MUSIC
Jackson Browne
Glasgow Royal Concert Hall
THERE was a certain comfort to be drawn from the presence of Jackson Browne, even as he shook his head at the craziness of the world and prescribed Carlos Varela’s MOR ballad Walls and Doors for the times.
With his “all-time favourite band” in tow and way more stringed instruments lined up than they could reasonably require for one set, this quintessential Californian roots rocker dispensed the easy mid-paced listening of Just Say Yeah, embellished with the soft eloquent twang of lead guitar, the wistful nostalgia of The Long Way Round and Before the Deluge’s gentle paean to hopeful, holistic living, all delivered with a casual dexterity and the occasional splash of modest heroics.
Just as the soothing sound verged on the soporific, Browne broke out the merry canter of Doctor My Eyes, and introduced some mild peril to this laidback pow-wow by the radical act of choosing not to wear his glasses, the rebel.
He lived relatively more dangerously in the second half of the concert by turning the setlist over to the audience, taking a cacophony of requests he could barely discern from the floor. Browne was amused by the audience’s juxtapositions – did we really want to hear Sky Blue and Black immediately after In the Shape of a Heart? The rabble response suggested that we did.
But whatever the fans threw at him, he was always going to find time for a closing run of 70s favourites in Jamaica Say You Will, Running on Empty and an encore of Take It Easy, advice by which he abides.