50 Years Later: Jackson Browne Melts Themes Of Love & Loss Into Harmonious Rock Jewel With ‘Late For The Sky’

With fifty years’ hindsight, Jackson Browne’s Late For The Sky (released 9/13/74) stands as his definitive work. Most of the entries in his discography, from his earliest eponymous release (often called ‘Saturate Before Using’ based on its cover graphic) to his latest, 2021’s Downhill From Everywhere, have more than a few brilliant moments. 

However, none of those twenty-some records capture and sustain the essence of Browne’s art like his third effort. It is a unified piece of work that wholly deserves cover art as striking as the image displayed on the front (an homage to a Rene Magritte painting referenced in such self-deprecating fashion in the liner notes that it precludes any pretension).

Ironically enough, however, the key to the fall 1974 LP resides in its least significant composition, “Walking Slow.” The penultimate track of the eight is by far the most upbeat, lyrically and musically. Yet it almost sounds forced, as if the author is pushing himself to embrace the high spirits described in the lyrics (available in printed form in their entirety on the 2014 CD remaster). 

‘Don’t know why I’m so happy…I’ve got no reason to feel this good’ Jackson sings on, not coincidentally, one of this LP’s shortest cuts (only the relatively abandoned escapism of “The Road And The Sky” is of lesser duration). And, hardly surprisingly, Browne and his sensitive core of accompanists capture the ambivalence in their musicianship. Indeed, the deceptively bright outlook, corresponding to the jaunty tempo, is a marked contrast to the generally somber and occasionally ominous atmosphere of the remaining thirty-five minutes. 

With its forlorn vocal delivery and skeletal arrangement, the title song that begins the album sets a tone that also pervades “Farther On” and the fitting closing of an implicitly topical piece called “Before The Deluge.” The continuity of emotion(s) arising from those songs is directly reflected in the arrangements, not the least ambitious of which is that of “The Late Show,” complete with David Campbell’s ascetic orchestration (like the rest, co-produced by Browne and the man who mixed the record, Al Schmitt). 

Jackson’s band of the time, including the brilliant (now deceased), David Lindley, is similarly in tune with each other. Permeated with judicious silence, their accompaniment adds only the slightest ornamentation, the latter’s guitar lines intermingling with Jai Winding’s piano and organ notes. Meanwhile, bassist Doug Haywood’s and drummer Larry Zack’s drum patterns reside not underneath that instrumentation but inside it: the unobtrusive rhythm section works like a heartbeat and, in so doing, the pair’s playing heightens the introspective intimacy of this music. 

Meanwhile, a corps of harmony singers add warmth to a delicate and detailed depiction of the fragile feelings that arise within narratives like that of  “Fountain of Sorrow.” The voices of Eagles’ Don Henley, that iconic band’s frequent collaborator JD Souther and a kindred spirit in the person of Dan Fogelberg, emphasize the momentous nature of the characters’ interactions in the songs.

Browne’s own studied piano playing radiates a gospel element that also imbues the music with a deep, genuinely religious fervor. As does his singing on a track such as “The Late Show:, “which is not blessed with a great range of voice, Jackson turns that liability into strength via the level tone he maintains. As a result, the poet-laureate of California folk-rock approaches his accounts of life’s turning points–for himself as well as those close to him–with a saintly and benevolent air. 

Whether sounding like excerpts from a personal diary or a first-person account of profound rapport with another, the performances on Late For The Sky represent vivid glimpses into human relationships (personal and political) that, a half-century after their first release, continue to resonate with fundamental truth(s).