Jackson Browne, "Late for the Sky"

Ken kicks-off our "Most Loved Albums" month with something fine

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Feb 03, 2021

Ken’s Pitch:

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” - Atticus Finch

I don’t think it’s hyperbole to say that Jackson Browne turned my life around. Technically, he helped me get the clarity to see how I could turn my own life around. I had experienced a lot of loss by the time I was in my mid-teens, and while there were so many people around the world that had it worse than I did, as a kid in pain I didn’t care about that. All I wanted was to see some light at the end of the tunnel.

When I was hurting, I just wanted someone to listen to me and understand what I was going through. I wasn’t looking for anyone to take pity, just someone to empathize. But in the 1980s, we didn’t share our feelings; in my little suburban, blue-collar town we suppressed emotions and played our dutiful roles assigned to us 25 years earlier on Leave it to Beaver.

But playing a role and having to be “on” day in and day out got tiring, so I retreated from society a bit, went through the daily motions of a seemingly regular kid, and put my head down on the pillow every night desperately hoping that the next day would be just a bit brighter than the day before.

I bumped into this album by accident in the early fall of 1987; I had gone to the record store to buy the album with “Somebody’s Baby” on it, only to find out that (at that point) it had only been released on the soundtrack to Fast Times at Ridgemont High, so I picked up another Jackson Browne CD instead, one with a cool-looking old car on the cover called Late For the Sky. What I discovered was a man who beautifully and eloquently wrote about what I was feeling.

While Browne wrote within the context of adult relationships and the feelings of love, loss, death, and rejection, it still spoke to a seventeen year old kid that was in the throes of loneliness and isolation.

Late For the Sky helped me understand that I wasn’t alone and that everyone has their story. And that discovery helped me to open up to the people I love. It was arguably the greatest lesson I’ve ever learned, and I began to heal almost immediately. No one had ever spoken to me as compassionately and as gently as Browne, and the album to this day serves as a shoulder to lean on anytime I need it.

This is a pitch about an album, though, and not an autobiography, so let’s talk about Browne’s ability to succinctly and poetically capture some large concepts in just a few words. We’ve all had breakups, and at some point in our lives, we’ve all been wounded in love. The song “Late For the Sky” says

“You never knew what I loved in you, I don’t know what you loved in me

Maybe the picture of somebody you were hoping I might be.”

Over the years, I’ve talked to a lot of people that have been through divorce or breakups and there’s a really common theme that comes with hindsight: why were we ever together in the first place? A twenty-five year old Jackson Browne said it so profoundly in 27 simple words.

With a band that included Browne’s longtime musical partner David Lindley, backup singers with household names like Fogelberg, Henley, and Souther, and some incredible orchestration by the legendary David Campbell (on top of working on 400+ certified gold and platinum albums...he’s also Beck’s dad), this is one of the all-time great singer-songwriter albums.

Thank you for this gift Jackson Browne. The final lines of “For A Dancer” go like this:

“And somewhere between the time you arrive and the time you go

May lie a reason you were alive, but you'll never know”

I’d like to think that part of the reason you arrived here Jackson, was to help people like me get through some rough times. And I hope you realize the impact your music has made before you go.

CJ’s Response

I listened to Late For The Sky seven times before I read Ken’s pitch and could not for the life of me determine why he made this his most loved album. Sure, it’s lovely and melodic and completely disarming, but most loved?!? Like the album you can’t live without? Hmm.

To be fair, my favorite Jackson Browne song is “Rosie” because it’s probably the most cleverly-penned song about masturbation this side of “Pictures of Lily”. And because I had a girlfriend who claimed it was her favorite love song. When we broke up, I told her what it was really about out of sheer spite. Clearly I haven’t been using Jackson Browne music as it was originally intended.

Then, I read the To Kill A Mockingbird quote and thought, “Ah shoot! Now I’ve gotta pay attention.” (Note: If you ever want to hook an English major, Mockingbird quotes are a good place to start.) So, I took a couple of more passes at Late and I get it now.

If I were a heartsick young man looking for answers and explanations, this album would’ve held great appeal for me. There’s tremendous empathy in Browne’s words, a feeling that he understands what you’re going through because he’s walked around in your skin, so to speak. At some point, though, the sadness has to end. And it never really does.

From a musical perspective, the SoCal/Eagles/Seven Bridges Road harmonies wear very thin after a while. And, if we’re being honest, there are some truly dopey lyrics among all that world-weary wisdom.

Now, can you see those dark clouds gathering up ahead?

They're gonna wash this planet clean like the Bible said

Now you can hold on steady, try to be ready

But everybody's gonna get wet

Oh boy.

Look Ken, I want you to know that this was a very successful pitch. It made me understand why this album could be someone’s most loved. It’s just not mine.

Pitch Failed

Mitch’s Response:

"It’s a lovely marriage of words and music, written by Stephen Sondheim.”

Jackson Browne’s Late For the Sky always makes me think of that iconic Frank Sinatra quote about “Send in the Clowns” for a few reasons: first, because Frank calls the shots for all those guys; secondly, because Ken and I have been quoting that line to each other since little Kenny would hit Fun and Games for a game of Ms. Pac Mac on the way home from buying his Jackson Browne CDs; and thirdly, because Late For the Sky really is a lovely marriage of words and music and it’s precisely that union that makes this album so powerful.

Ken did a beautiful job talking about the poignancy of Browne’s wise-beyond-his-years lyrics and the universality of the themes that he addresses. Like many great artists, JB makes people feel better about themselves by helping them to realize that they’re not alone, that other people have loved and lost and survived, and you can too.

What elevates Late for the Sky to masterpiece status is the mournful wail of David Lindley’s lap steel guitar and violin. It’s the defining sound of this record, and the sad cries emanating from David’s strings reflect, refract and amplify the sad words coming from Jackson Browne’s voice. The effect is profound, allowing the listener to truly feel JB’s pain on a visceral level. It provides the album with such a unique, distinct and memorable high lonesome sound.

Melancholy albums full of infinite sadness may be cathartic for the sufferers, but they’re also a hard sell in El Lay in 1974, so I can only imagine that some coked-up studio head asked JB to throw in a rocker or two to try to deliver another hit like “Doctor My Eyes”. This gives us the only low-light of the album - “The Road and the Sky” - an insufferable boogie-woogie tale of Jackson Browne getting high and stealing cars (I believe exactly half of that story).

Aside from that little detour into the ditch, Late For the Sky is one of Ken’s - and my - most loved albums of all time.

Pitch Successful

Don’s Response

I’ve played Late For The Sky more than any record we’ve studied these last few months. It’s sparse arrangements and simple production providing constant, soothing background music while I’ve worked, run errands, and paid bills. On the surface, it sounds nice, like classic Jackson Browne, with lovely melodies, floating vocals, and gentle instrumentation. It feels good.

But while I’ve heard it non-stop for a week, it didn’t catch my attention until I truly listened. Because once you let the lyrics in, it’s quite compelling at its best. Especially on Side A, with four good to great songs packed with the raw confessions, fear, and confusion of a young man turning into an adult. Such as this knockout punch from “The Late Show”:

Maybe people only ask how you’re doing

‘Cause that’s easier than letting on how little they could care

Yet for some reason, even with its profound themes and the wondrous guitar playing of David Lindley – the undisputed highlight of the record – it runs a little empty. While I understand Late for the Sky is considered Browne’s masterpiece, I think what prevents it from reaching that status to my ears are the two tunes that break the melancholy mood: “Walking Slow” and the forced (to be kind) “The Road and the Sky.” You could say that for most of Side B, Browne doesn’t do much for me.

But Late For the Sky is redeemed in the end, with the cathartic “Before The Deluge,” soaring with the beautiful background vocals from an all-star cast of Laurel Canyon troubadours. I just wish those two clunkers didn’t spoil such an otherwise great record.

Pitch Successful

Ken’s pitch tugged at our heartstrings and got Jackson Browne’s Late for the Sky added to the Newbury Street Collection.

Is Jackson Browne somebody’s baby or is he running on empty with Late for the Sky? Take it easy on us in the comments these days.

Exile on Newbury St.

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