Biography:
Lee Mergner is currently the Editor-in-Chief of JazzTimes magazine. JazzTimes, which has won numerous ASCAP-Deems Taylor awards for music journalism, was founded in 1970 and has been described by the All Music Guide, “arguably the finest jazz magazine in the world.” It has been chosen as the Best Print Jazz Publication by the Jazz Journalists Association for 11 straight years.
Mergner also contributes reviews, columns, news features and profiles to the magazine and oversees the magazine’s web site jazztimes.com. He is a self-avowed magazine junkie who still gets nearly 50 magazines per month.
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There's a good chance that a large part of the audience coming to see Sunday's show at Wolf Trap billed as "Jackson Browne with David Lindley" expected to see a stripped down acoustic duo, in a format similar to their new recording Love Is Strange (taken from their joint 2006 European tour) or similar to the numerous solo shows Browne has been doing over the last few years and from which two of his more successful recent albums were drawn. In that format, Browne sits surrounded by what appears to be a hundred guitars and mines his own extensive songbook with a few covers thrown in, while he actually encourages the audience to throw requests at him (more on that later). In fact, the audience would have been nearly half-right, because strolling out to open the show were Lindley and Browne, dressed in complementary yet nicely unmatched paisley polyester shirts, taking seats across from each other surrounded by acoustic guitars, as if it were 1972 all over again: the ageless wonder Browne looking almost exactly like he did 20 years ago and the chunkier Lindley, with his bald pate rimmed by frizzed out hair, now looking more like the eccentric musicologist that he's always been. Certainly the audience is fully aware that Lindley knows Browne's songs and a few hundred more.
Indeed, the two have about as long a professional relationship as possible for two 70s rockers. Browne once said that back in the early 70s, he had been following Lindley's LA cosmic rock band The Kaleidoscope and pestering the guitarist to work with him, but it took a recording session in England where the two did take after take of "Song for Adam" while waiting for the producer who never showed up. Eventually they went to an Irish bar next door, where a bunch of Jamaicans were drinking green beer and the two young LA musicians "got pissed as newts." Browne said at that point that he told Lindley, "I'll be in your band, if you'll be in my band," and the rest is rock history. During the early years of Browne's career, the two worked as a duo, eventually expanding the band as his popularity grew, but always keeping Lindley's distinctive lap steel guitar as a sonic complement to Browne's own guitar, piano and voice all the way through the end of the '70s. Eventually Lindley left Browne to work on his own solo projects, including El Rayo X, but would occasionally collaborate here or there as a guest in concert or on record. At Wolf Trap, Browne explained that he had to pursue Lindley to do this tour, so the dynamics of their relationship remain the same, nearly forty years later.
They opened the show with a Warren Zevon/Carl Hiassen tune, "Seminole Bingo," whose references to the SEC and junk bond kings on the run seem even more timely now than they did back in 1995 when the late singer-songwriter recorded it on his Mutineer album. Browne and Lindley were both very close to Zevon, Browne having championed and produced him first and Lindley having accompanied him intermittently over the years (including on that particular album). Lindley handled the vocals on the offhand sardonic opener and although his nasal voice is certainly an acquired taste, you have to remember that a good part of the audience has a history with the quirky guitarist and have no problem indulging Browne’s trusted sidekick. So there was barely a rustle in the audience. In fact, there was barely a rustle the whole night. The audience was about as quiet during the quiet passages as you'll hear outside of a classical performance. I had expected the crazy and grating call-out of songs favorite and obscure (Browne's old friend J.D. Souther, in a solo performance earlier this year at The Barns, said that he told recently Browne, "You know, you don't have to do that.").
But the audience simply accepted what they were given, which included acoustic and impassioned versions of Springsteen's "Brothers Under the Bridge," "For Everyman" and "Looking East" with Browne and Lindley harmonizing beautifully, then followed by a mini-set of a lone Lindley doing Blind Willie Johnson's "Soul of a Man" (made famous by another great guitarist Bruce Cockburn) and Danny O'Keefe's bitterly ironic "(He Would Have Loved You) More Than Eva Braun." Lindley played a Middle Eastern oud ("made in Anaheim," Browne explained) as well as his trademark lap guitar with his usual facility. When Lindley walked offstage, ending the first set, a different audience might have wondered if they were eventually going to get the headliner they paid to see or the way-too-gracious colleague (anyone see Adam Duritz and the Counting Crows recently?). But Browne has engendered a trust from his audience that is palpable. No screaming out for the star and his hits. Just take a break to hit the bar and the bathroom. Perhaps it helped that they saw the equipment of a full band or maybe they just googled previous shows, in between checking on the Redskins-Cowboys score.
The second set was perhaps remarkable for being conventional, yet no less satisfying. Browne, backed by his longtime band, worked through his catalogue fluidly, doing the songs very much like they had been originally recorded, with an occasional flourish. His dusky voice has deepened over the years, but it remains a strongly emotive instrument, so that when he sings mournfully or nostalgically of romantic dischord, it rings true. He really does sound like he's nearly crying, a stylistic nuance that Coner Oberst has consciously or unconsciously absorbed. Much of the set came from his halcyon days with Elektra/Asylum for whom he recorded his first four albums, each of which successively pushed him to larger and larger audiences, as he refined his own confessional and literate songwriting style. Among the songs performed from that period were "For A Dancer" and "Late for the Sky" from Late for the Sky, "Bright Baby Blues" and "The Pretender" from The Pretender. He also did a few songs from his brilliant and underrated I'm Alive album ("My Problem Is You" and "Too Many Angels") and a few of his more accessible tunes ("Off of Wonderland," "Giving that Heaven Away" and "Just Say Yeah") from 2008's Time the Conqueror. Given that his audience is likely not much older than him, yet looks at least a decade older, you have to wonder who conquered who, but it's a lot better to look at the way we'd like to see ourselves rather than at some bitter reminder of the years gone past.
In any case, Browne knows that his audience has come to hear his "hits" and in addition to his FM classics, he gave them two of his earliest AM hit singles from his debut album - "Doctor My Eyes" and "Rock Me On the Water," dedicating the latter to the coalition of organizations fighting the use of plastic containers, which are indirectly but surely polluting our oceans. It wouldn't be a Browne show without a touch of activism. That's expected and accepted as well. Though a fan might quibble with his omitting "These Days," there are certainly enough cover versions of that tune to satisfy any Browne-ophile. Even Fountains of Wayne have covered that one. And it was a tune made more popular by countless other people. Same with "Take It Easy."
In the end, by the time the band had heated up to do "Running on Empty" and Chuck Berry's "Mercury Blues," and closed with a gospel-like version of Steve Van Zandt's "I Am A Patriot," the audience left hearing nearly every notable tune in Browne's long oeuvre. And feeling that they heard them done right and done well. If he coasted during that second set, it's because they wanted him too. And the way Browne looks and sounds, he should be good for another 10-20 years, no problem. Time hasn't seemed to conquer him in the least and how many singers and bands from that era can say that?
Indeed, the two have about as long a professional relationship as possible for two 70s rockers. Browne once said that back in the early 70s, he had been following Lindley's LA cosmic rock band The Kaleidoscope and pestering the guitarist to work with him, but it took a recording session in England where the two did take after take of "Song for Adam" while waiting for the producer who never showed up. Eventually they went to an Irish bar next door, where a bunch of Jamaicans were drinking green beer and the two young LA musicians "got pissed as newts." Browne said at that point that he told Lindley, "I'll be in your band, if you'll be in my band," and the rest is rock history. During the early years of Browne's career, the two worked as a duo, eventually expanding the band as his popularity grew, but always keeping Lindley's distinctive lap steel guitar as a sonic complement to Browne's own guitar, piano and voice all the way through the end of the '70s. Eventually Lindley left Browne to work on his own solo projects, including El Rayo X, but would occasionally collaborate here or there as a guest in concert or on record. At Wolf Trap, Browne explained that he had to pursue Lindley to do this tour, so the dynamics of their relationship remain the same, nearly forty years later.
They opened the show with a Warren Zevon/Carl Hiassen tune, "Seminole Bingo," whose references to the SEC and junk bond kings on the run seem even more timely now than they did back in 1995 when the late singer-songwriter recorded it on his Mutineer album. Browne and Lindley were both very close to Zevon, Browne having championed and produced him first and Lindley having accompanied him intermittently over the years (including on that particular album). Lindley handled the vocals on the offhand sardonic opener and although his nasal voice is certainly an acquired taste, you have to remember that a good part of the audience has a history with the quirky guitarist and have no problem indulging Browne’s trusted sidekick. So there was barely a rustle in the audience. In fact, there was barely a rustle the whole night. The audience was about as quiet during the quiet passages as you'll hear outside of a classical performance. I had expected the crazy and grating call-out of songs favorite and obscure (Browne's old friend J.D. Souther, in a solo performance earlier this year at The Barns, said that he told recently Browne, "You know, you don't have to do that.").
But the audience simply accepted what they were given, which included acoustic and impassioned versions of Springsteen's "Brothers Under the Bridge," "For Everyman" and "Looking East" with Browne and Lindley harmonizing beautifully, then followed by a mini-set of a lone Lindley doing Blind Willie Johnson's "Soul of a Man" (made famous by another great guitarist Bruce Cockburn) and Danny O'Keefe's bitterly ironic "(He Would Have Loved You) More Than Eva Braun." Lindley played a Middle Eastern oud ("made in Anaheim," Browne explained) as well as his trademark lap guitar with his usual facility. When Lindley walked offstage, ending the first set, a different audience might have wondered if they were eventually going to get the headliner they paid to see or the way-too-gracious colleague (anyone see Adam Duritz and the Counting Crows recently?). But Browne has engendered a trust from his audience that is palpable. No screaming out for the star and his hits. Just take a break to hit the bar and the bathroom. Perhaps it helped that they saw the equipment of a full band or maybe they just googled previous shows, in between checking on the Redskins-Cowboys score.
The second set was perhaps remarkable for being conventional, yet no less satisfying. Browne, backed by his longtime band, worked through his catalogue fluidly, doing the songs very much like they had been originally recorded, with an occasional flourish. His dusky voice has deepened over the years, but it remains a strongly emotive instrument, so that when he sings mournfully or nostalgically of romantic dischord, it rings true. He really does sound like he's nearly crying, a stylistic nuance that Coner Oberst has consciously or unconsciously absorbed. Much of the set came from his halcyon days with Elektra/Asylum for whom he recorded his first four albums, each of which successively pushed him to larger and larger audiences, as he refined his own confessional and literate songwriting style. Among the songs performed from that period were "For A Dancer" and "Late for the Sky" from Late for the Sky, "Bright Baby Blues" and "The Pretender" from The Pretender. He also did a few songs from his brilliant and underrated I'm Alive album ("My Problem Is You" and "Too Many Angels") and a few of his more accessible tunes ("Off of Wonderland," "Giving that Heaven Away" and "Just Say Yeah") from 2008's Time the Conqueror. Given that his audience is likely not much older than him, yet looks at least a decade older, you have to wonder who conquered who, but it's a lot better to look at the way we'd like to see ourselves rather than at some bitter reminder of the years gone past.
In any case, Browne knows that his audience has come to hear his "hits" and in addition to his FM classics, he gave them two of his earliest AM hit singles from his debut album - "Doctor My Eyes" and "Rock Me On the Water," dedicating the latter to the coalition of organizations fighting the use of plastic containers, which are indirectly but surely polluting our oceans. It wouldn't be a Browne show without a touch of activism. That's expected and accepted as well. Though a fan might quibble with his omitting "These Days," there are certainly enough cover versions of that tune to satisfy any Browne-ophile. Even Fountains of Wayne have covered that one. And it was a tune made more popular by countless other people. Same with "Take It Easy."
In the end, by the time the band had heated up to do "Running on Empty" and Chuck Berry's "Mercury Blues," and closed with a gospel-like version of Steve Van Zandt's "I Am A Patriot," the audience left hearing nearly every notable tune in Browne's long oeuvre. And feeling that they heard them done right and done well. If he coasted during that second set, it's because they wanted him too. And the way Browne looks and sounds, he should be good for another 10-20 years, no problem. Time hasn't seemed to conquer him in the least and how many singers and bands from that era can say that?
Very nice recap. I was there, and this sums it up very well.
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