It didn’t take twenty years of hindsight years to discern that Tom Petty and the Heartbreaker’s album The Last DJ (released 10/8/02) was about more than the corporate takeover of commercial radio. Certainly, there are tracks on which the pugnacious Floridian homes in on the antiseptic and anonymous in what used to be a bastion of good exposure for popular music of all kinds. But there are also songs of personal expression that present an implicit homage to Tom’s recently-departed good friend George Harrison, who had passed just the year prior to this Warner Brothers release.
At the very outset of this eleventh Petty/Heartbreakers studio album (and the third for the major label), the title track and “Money Becomes King” are both critical of greed in the music industry. Yet as much as that first number captures the quintessential sound of the band in its driving rhythm guitars and Steve Ferrone’s foursquare drumming, on the latter tune, the band’s chief songwriter and leader takes a more oblique angle on his subject than in the other diatribe.
“Dreamville” moves along similar lines on a topic slightly-related to the latter number. Petty suggests nostalgia is no less self-deceiving than mercenary pursuits (and often inextricably intertwined)and, in keeping with such lofty thoughts, the swells of orchestration arranged by Jon Brion distinctly recall the layered production of the aforementioned ex-Beatle’s halcyon solo debut All Things Must Pass.
The guarded stomp of “When A Kid Goes Bad” also sounds like something personal to Tom Petty–again, especially so for those cognizant of his childhood history. But it’s hardly so illuminating as “Like A Diamond,” paean to love as a refuge from a bizarre world that, in its deliberate gait and soft chiming guitars again recalls vintage Harrison. The twisting fretboard figures of Mike Campbell and languorous vocals are an even more explicit tribute to the author’s bandmate in the Traveling Wilburys and keyboardist Benmont Tench is never more prominent on The Last DJ than here; as if it were necessary, it’s evidence of his indispensable yet unremittingly understated presence on the group’s recordings.
“Joe,” however, is another unrelenting screed aimed at a record company exec (hitting VERY close to home for those familiar with the WB hierarchy). Meanwhile, “The Man Who Loves Women” would sound like an indefensible glorification of misogyny if not for its lighthearted tone, elevated by Beach Boys-type harmonies from Fleetwood Mac’s Lindsey Buckingham and an arrangement anchored by ukulele: it was a favorite instrument of Harrison’s in his later years and one he actually taught TP to play it as they became close.
Perhaps the most genuinely upbeat cut here in both mood and beat, “You And Me” is even more explicit in its depiction of devotion with a life of its own. In that respect, the self-renewing dynamic so described in that song is very much akin to this Heartbreakers band, at this point including returnee bass-player Ron Blair alongside new recruits multi-instrumentalist Scott Thurston and former Average White Bandman Ferrone at the kit.
Appropriate to the folk-like acoustic guitar foundation of “Blue Sunday,” the chief songwriter also shines a light on the complex nature of relationships, this time in a dramatic narrative populated by the same kind of vivid characters that peopled “Into The Great Wide Open.” As black and white as Tom paints the business issues on The Last DJ, he’s not so naive when it comes to the human condition.
Petty’s singular voice rings loud and clear as ever on this LP’s highlights. Nevertheless, clear-headed as he sounds in those moments, there’s no question the man’s in a shaken state, quite likely because of the late Beatle’s passing; it’s perfectly understandable then to hear Tom’s homage to another good friend with the knowing Bob Dylan vocal impersonation on “Have Love Will Travel.”
Perhaps not so surprisingly, The Last DJ ushered in a protracted seven years of personal and artistic reflection. The next release with the Heartbreakers was A Live Anthology, followed by a digression into his Southern heritage of the blues with Mojo and then an almost complete return to immediately recognizable form with Hypnotic Eye.
The longstanding unit’s final studio effort prior to the leader’s unexpected passing in 2017 preceded his last solo album, 2006’s Highway Companion (during the road support for which filmmaker Peter Boddonovich filmed his splendid authorized documentary Runnin’ Down A Dream) and the initial reformation of Petty’s pre-heartbreakers band Mudcrutch.
As TP sings with wide-eyed openness and acceptance on the Abbey Road-reminiscent “Can’t Stop The Sun:” ‘…life goes on and on and on…’ By the time his voice fades away on that final track, the mundane and venal with which he’s so preoccupied at times have become properly relegated to much less pressing concerns.
In the wide-ranging activities during this reflective period of his life, it’s quite evident Tom Petty regained his clarity of mind, for all intents and purposes, as a direct result of the mixed messages he conveyed with this two-decade-old LP.
One Response
I’ve been obsessed with this record as of late. This is a good one to get re-acquainted with after a prolonged period of not hearing it. Nice article and it’s interesting to hear how George’s passing had some influence. There’s definitely Beatles all over it. I actually think The Man Who Loves Women is kind of a self referential joke, or maybe it’s about someone he knows but I don’t see it in any way being a glorification of misogyny. It’s a condemnation no doubt, and if Petty is singing it about himself he’s just looking at the jerk in all men who can’t help themselves with falling in love with every beautiful woman they encounter.