the Dalaverse

Because goddammit, I will express some manner of creativity tonight.

I've seen people do this before, notably musesfool. Basically, a favorite song of mine, what it means to me, why I love it, etc. But 'favorite song' doesn't really cut it. I have lots of favorite songs, hundreds probably, but then there are songs like this. If you cracked my brain open and took a peek inside, these lyrics are some of the words that would come pouring out first. They're like free therapy when absolutely nothing else will make me feel better except a good cry. Not that I'm particularly down tonight; I was just listening to my Jackson Browne mix and got inspired.



There's no possible way for me to separate this into two songs, even though they'll play separately on any Jackson CD you can buy. They were recorded back-to-back at Merriweather and there's no break between the end of the first and the beginning of the second. My father was looking to fill space at the end of one of his Jackson tapes and he had space for "Stay" but not "The Load Out," because together they clock in at nine minutes exactly. First time he played it during a summer road trip, I threw a fit and personally re-recorded that portion of the tape, knocking off a song and a half to make room for the whole thing. Because...because they just go together, full stop, end of story. So it's the song from now on, not the songs.

One thing it's important to know about me is that I'm a total and complete daddy's girl. I like to think I'm close to my mom, and I certainly understand her better than I would like to, at times. But I've always gotten along better with my dad for whatever myriad reasons, and it was no different when I was little. Most of my early childhood memories are connected to him; it was my dad who read to me every single night, it was my dad who gave me baths, it was my dad who took me bike-riding and museum-hopping. And it was my dad who used to twirl me around the living room to the tune of Jackson Browne. I'd wait impatiently for the second half to start up, because that was when I got to be dipped. I'd tip my head back and look at the ugly old sofas (orange, chintz, with brown flowers ::shudders:: They were comfy, though) upside down, always with a little edge of fear that I might be dropped. He never did, of course, but he pretended to, because it made me giggle. Years later, I would watch "Dirty Dancing" and wonder why they were messing up my song (using the Zodiacs' original "Stay," in the scene where Baby proposes her brilliant plan to Johnny and Penny, if I remember correctly). The living room dances had ended by that point, because it seemed silly and babyish, but I was still highly insulted to hear my song anywhere other than our own stereo. I was either at the end of grade school or just starting middle school when I first began to get an inkling that maybe there was more to music than the newest pop everybody in class had to have. Jackson, fittingly, was the first classic artist I actually sought out on my own. I remember one specific day when I needed music to do math homework to, and I somehow managed to find Daddy's tape of Running on Empty. I hadn't thought about the magical song in what felt like forever, but suddenly it all came rushing back, this time with a name and a face to put to the memories. I popped it in my little brown Fisher Price tape player, and damn near wore the thing out by the time we finally wised up and switched to compact disc (we were always a little behind with technology). Jackson was kind of an anomoly until the summer in the Outer Banks when II was forced to listen to Fleetwood Mac in Aunt Carolyn's car for three hours and decided that they were actually pretty awesome (when we got home, I stole The Dance and listened to it in secret for a couple of days before I was found out). I forgot about him again for awhile, until the spring of senior year when I was desperate for a car of my own and a whole album about the long, lonely road was exactly what assuaged my wanderlust. "The Load Out/Stay," however, was the one song that held a special meaning, even more so once I actually took notice of the first half.

It really starts after the applause on "Nothing But Time," in which Jackson Browne explains to the audience that he's trying out a new song. Then he sits down at his piano and that pretty, simple melody starts up.

Now the seats are all empty
Let the roadies take the stage

You can hear the weariness of being on tour in his voice, slightly huskier than it is on a studio album, and you instinctively know that this is a set closer.

Pack it up and tear it down
They're the first to come and last to leave
Working for that minimum wage
They'll set it up in another town

Tonight the people were so fine
They waited there in line
And when they got up on their feet they made the show
And that was sweet

A little respect for the hard-working roadies, not to mention the fans. I hate crowds with a passion, but the atmosphere of a good concert is another matter entirely. You're all packed in tight, swaying to the music, standing and sitting in unison, completely under the spell of the tiny people on the stage. The casual fans who do this on a regular basis, the people out just for some Saturday night entertainment -- they pay the same ticket price as everybody else, but it's the true fans I love, the people who are mouthing every word and tapping their feet and grinning at you because they've been waiting for this feeling for weeks, for months, maybe for years. They're here, to steal an appropriate line from an appropriate movie, because of the music, because they love it. And in those few lines, the music loves them right back.

But I can hear the sound
Of slamming doors and folding chairs
And that's a sound they'll never know
Now roll them cases out and lift them amps
Haul them trusses down and get'em up them ramps
'Cause when it comes to moving me
You know you guys are the champs

But it's not a one-night experience for the guy on the stage. He does this on a nightly basis and each time blurs together in his mind, easily deconstructed and rebuilt again in the next town. And again, yay for roadies.

But when that last guitar's been packed away
You know that I still want to play
So just make sure you got it all set to go
Before you come for my piano

And I love that ephemeral as it is, that moment onstage is what the speaker lives for, and he's going to make it last as long as he can.

But the band's on the bus
And they're waiting to go
We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago
Or Detroit, I don't know
We do so many shows in a row
And these towns all look the same

This sentiment's all throughout Running on Empty -- the sheer tedium of passing through other people's lives.

We just pass the time in our hotel rooms
And wander 'round backstage
Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd
And we remember why we came

Here the tempo picks up; the drums kick in and there's a short solo from...it's really pathetic that I don't know what that is, isn't it? Some kind of horn, whistley thing, a keyboard effect? The piano's still keeping pace in the background as well, which is one of the things I like about Jackson Browne; every now and then, I really like a little piano in my rock 'n' roll.

Now we got country and western on the bus
R and B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereo
We've got rural scenes & magazines
We've got truckers on CB
We've got Richard Pryor on the video

I love the little twang on 'country and western;' I love the disco noise even more. Ad I love how badly these few lines date this song.

We got time to think of the ones we love
While the miles roll away
But the only time that seems too short
Is the time that we get to play

Back to the music again, and what it really means to an artist to be sitting up on that stage looking out on a sea of people.

People you've got the power over what we do
You can sit there and wait
Or you can pull us through
Come along, sing the song
You know that you can't go wrong
'Cause when that morning sun comes beating down
You're going to wake up in your town
But we'll be scheduled to appear
A thousand miles away from here...

And here's the segue into "Stay," which is perfectly smooth if you're listening to the two songs in conjunction but incredibly jarring if you separate them, both in the ending of first and the beginning of the second. Because! They're fabulously long song!

Awww, my burned CD takes a little pause first. That makes me sad.

People stay just a little bit longer
We want to play -- just a little bit longer

And that's where I would get my first dip, and the whole band feels more involved in the song, and you can practically hear the crowd going "Ah, we gotcha now."

Now the promoter don't mind
And the union don't mind
If we take a little time
And we leave it all behind and sing
One more song--

I always liked the altered lyrics, and finally, we get the first appearance of an actual chorus. First Jackson does it, then a woman with a good voice who reminds me vaguely of Bonnie Rait. After a nice little electric guitar foray, one more repeat, this time with Maurice Williams himself starting it off, and the crowd gets a little excited when they recognize that high pitch. Jackson finishes it off with more of that instrument-where-I-don't-know-what-it-is, more guitar, and some nice, steady work on the piano and drums. It fades out after a faint "Alright, thank you all again."

When I saw Jackson Browne last summer, I was really disappointed that he didn't do this song, especially since it was Merriweather, where he'd first played it live and recorded it for the album. He didn't do very many of his better-known songs, however, so I don't know what was up with that (link to my concert review, for the sake of completion). Actually, I have crappy luck with that -- CSNY didn't do "Teach Your Children" when I saw them (thought it might have something to do either with Jerry Garcia's death or the fact that Graham Nash's voice had weakened considerably). ANYWAY. Hearing it live would've been amazing, but doesn't change the fact that it is on the short list of most very favoritest songs of all time, and it's irrevocably tangled up with dear childhood memories, and I love it.