This came out in 1999 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Tom Petty used to seem pretty sure of himself. But don’t take my word for it: Go drag one of his old albums out of your record collection (come on, I know you’ve got them) and check out his expression on the cover — chances are he’s wearing a crinkly, damn-the-torpedoes smirk on that high-cheekboned mug of his.
Well, ol’ Tom ain’t been smiling so much these last few years — unless it’s through gritted teeth. Over the past several albums, he’s slowly matured from a superficial pop tunesmith into a seasoned, mature songwriter. And as his albums have become more complex and introspective, his universe of American girls and losers who get lucky sometimes has darkened to a world populated by rebels without a clue, and where the waiting isn’t even close to the hardest part.
Echo, Petty’s 12th album in his 23-year career — and first full studio outing with his long-serving Heartbreakers since 1991 — continues his freefall into the great wide open. On the one hand, it’s his most introspective and contemplative work yet, a ballad-heavy set seemingly forged from emotional hardship that he wears on his sleeve like a badge of honour.
And I’m not talking about simple heartache here. No, like a diary of love gone bad, Petty’s Echo reverberates with suspicion (“There’s a rumour going round, somebody’s gonna let me down”), denial (“There may have been a girl, there never was a kiss”), anger (“You let me down, you dropped the ball”) and vindictiveness (“Oh my love, if I reveal every secret I’ve concealed … how much of my pain would you feel?”). Talk about a breakdown.
Still, no matter how much Petty changes, some things always remain the same. Like his instantly recognizable sound — that rootsy, jangly, relaxed amalgamation ofThe Byrds, Eagles, Rolling Stones and half a dozen other classic rock bands. It’s been there since his first record, and it just keeps getting better with age. As does his songwriting. Troubled as many of these ballads are, they’re still instant classics, tunes you’ll be humming after just one listen.
At times, it seems even Tom can’t resist their charms. “We went down swingin’,” he intones on the country-tinged relationship tale Swingin’, setting us up for yet another fall before delivering the knockout punchline: “Yeah, we went down swingin’ … like Benny Goodman.”
Is that the beginning of a smirk I see?
