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Time The Conqueror

by

Jackson Browne

 
Time The Conqueror
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Avg: 4.0 (76 ratings)

His best album in 15 years. Is that enough?

  • We Say...

    I've been expecting the worst from Time the Conqueror. Although I'd call myself a Jackson Browne fan (to quote Jack Donaghy, I have two ears and a heart, don't I?), I'm Alive in 1993 was the last album of his that I can really endorse; in the 15 years since, he has fallen into a familiar rut for Boomer stars: the fire dying, the passion misplaced and the music — worst of all — just competent. Age certainly brings many things — perspective, wisdom, regrets — but, with rare exceptions, it does not often bring a creative influx or a flash of inspiration.

    All of that said, Time the Conqueror exceeded my expectations. After hearing a lot of chatter about this being his most political album (which is true: Browne has always been much more about the politics of domesticity and the heart), I approached with extreme caution, and songs like "Where Were You" and "The Drums of War," despite, melodically, a very nice bridge, confirm our worst fears: even for the most talented and knowledgeable artist, it is extremely difficult to articulate specific, partisan opinions in song without sounding trite, red-faced and, well, like a jackass. Look at Guthrie or Dylan or, hell, even Green Day: you gotta backdoor this stuff to pull it off, and Browne feels too righteous to metaphor his emotions.

    Anyway, there are highlights. "The Arms of Night" is beautiful. Browne's voice is soft, the backing R&B vocals comfort his tortured coo and the arrangement — which features the surprising and welcome appearance of a muted organ solo — really suits the mood well: doesn't overplay it, just lets the obvious emotion of his voice and song speak for itself. It's tastefully done. "Just Say Yeah" spices up the second half of the record (a lot of slower songs packed together) with a bit of pep, and the opening one-two of "Time the Conqueror" and "Off Of Wonderland" are an excellent beginning — and a really good pair of song titles.

    I can't predict how this album will sound a decade from now or where it really ranks in Browne's overall discography, but it's certainly a notable step up from his recent past. Sometimes time doesn't conquer, after all.

  • They Say...

    Time the Conqueror is Jackson Browne's first studio offering in six years. The last was 2002's Naked Ride Home for Elektra. Browne established his sound in the '70s and has made precious few adjustments, with the exception of a couple of records in the '80s where the keyboards and drum machines of the period were woven into his heady, West Coast pop, singer/songwriter mix. Whereas his '90s albums I'm Alive and Looking East, as well as Naked Ride Home, mirrored the personal concerns of his '70s records in more elegiac terms, Time the Conqueror returns in some ways to Browne's more overtly political statements from the '80s such as Lives in the Balance and World in Motion and weighs them against the personal, but he's all but forgotten how to write hooks. The title track is as personal as it gets; its breezy, cut-time beat and airy melody signals motion like the white lines clicking by on a highway. They underscore both time and life passing away, juxtaposed against the need to appreciate each moment. Browne accepts the blindness of the future as he does the helplessness of the past, though he doesn't accept aging. The next couple of tracks underscore this. There's the elegy to the '60s in "Off to Wonderland," a paean to the lost innocence of the heady years of idealism betrayed in both the Kennedys' and Martin Luther King's murders. The last line in this midtempo rock ballad is: "Didn't we believe that love would carry on/Wouldn't we receive enough/If we could just believe in one another/As much as we believed in John." It was wonderland, all right; these ideals were not hollow but they had no basis in American reality. The hardest rocking cut is "The Drums of War," which is Browne at his most didactic. It's as much a renewed call to arms as it is an indictment of the Bush years. It's a quickly passing moment, however, in that the very next track, "The Arms of Night," is a spiritual paean urging the listener to seek love in the right places. It's tender, confused, and authentic, but dull. "Where Were You?" has more teeth with its stuttering attempt at 21st century funk. Musically it serves more as a rock track with actual rhythm than it does funk. It's another socio-political indictment of alleged apathy in the post-millennial age. This album goes on, with no real aim other than telling us things that Browne's been thinking about these days (with the exception of the Latin-tinged "Goin' Down to Cuba," the best tune here; it's the only song with something resembling a hook). Browne seems to be speaking to his own generation; he's still trying to make sense of the world he wanted to live in and the one he actually does. Next time out, though, instead of worrying about his "enlightened" perspective, perhaps he should pay more attention to what made his earlier songs feel as if he actually owned one: craft.

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