Review | Homeboy Got Game, Continued

To paraphrase a great song, he came out singing, didn’t do too much talking this time. When Jackson Browne launches — or more accurately, eases — into his minor masterpiece “These Days,” as he did midway through Sunday’s Lobero Theatre concert, it feels like an anthem both personal and universal. Although written when he was a fledgling and seemingly mature-beyond-his-years songwriter of 16, the song has resonated differently as Hollister Rancher Browne proceeded through his life-career to his current 75-year-old self.

By his own admission, Browne was less inclined than usual to talk between songs at this show, a special and very sold-out celebration of the centennial of this architectural iteration of the beloved Lobero. But, to quote another song, “That Girl Could Sing,” (allegedly about late, underrated Valerie Carter), Browne sure could sing, with his usual warmth and air of wisdom, over a two-set 24-song show spanning his 50-plus-year career.

He returned with the deep and empathetic family of bandmates we heard at his Bowl show in 2022, highlighted by the uncommonly musical and flavorful guitar section of telecaster master Val McCallum and Greg Leisz, on lap steel (an heir apparent to Browne’s old foil David Lindley) and with Leisz’s trademark pedal steel mastery and assorted guitar implements. Taste just oozed from that corner of the Lobero stage, not to mention the critical female background parts (and occasional stepping-out moments) of singers Alethea Mills and Chavonne Stewart.

Perhaps more than any other artist on the international stage, Browne has connected with his adopted hometown of Santa Barbara, and made his steady flow of concerts a somehow Santa Barbara–centric phenom. (Or are we just self-delusional as proud Santa Barbarans?) The Browne ritual goes back even before he took the stage of the Santa Barbara Bowl (née the County Bowl) during his high-flying Running on Empty period of the late ‘70s, back when the Bowl’s “lawn area” was actually a lawn.

Somehow, on the long list of Browne shows in town — many of them linked to his activist sensibilities — Sunday’s Lobero show was one of the more intimate and personal. His band helped flesh out the sound and textural diversity and grooved at the right times and in the right degrees. But as Browne reminded us when he moved from guitar to piano for the reflective “Late for the Sky,” a strong gospel/Biblical undertow marks his stylistic and thematic instincts. The presence of gospel-inspired backup singers and melodic lap steel parts as a surrogate for the “sacred steel” tradition enhance his lyrics, often seeking redemption or social justice, with or without a higher power in the mix.

Browne’s evolving life as a songwriter has admirably addressed matters of time’s and life’s passage in the past decade of his work, rather than basking in illusions or youthful “take it easy” flippancy. He touches on mortality with “The Long Way Around” (which quotes “These Days” in its opening line), “Time the Conqueror,” and “I’m Alive.” From his latest album, 2021’s Downhill from Everywhere, Browne called up the almost Tom Petty–ish rocker with a cause, “Until Justice Is Real,” joining a hand-picked pack of rock-inclined items from his songbook — “Somebody’s Baby,” “Boulevard,” and “The Pretender” (“I want to be happy idiot struggling for the legal tender” the hoi polloi–championing rock star sings).

Browne deserves kudos for choosing as his sole cover song this night to be “I’ve Been the One,” which he recorded as a tribute to the late, great American musician Lowell George. He dedicated the tune to George’s son Forest, in the house that night.

Abiding by trusty old showbiz impulses, Browne capped off the show with a few “greatest hits — ” “Doctor My Eyes,” “Running on Empty” and the low-hanging, crowd-pleasing fruit of the Eagles kickback anthem “Take It Easy” (which Browne co-wrote with Glen Frey). But, as if to segue into a more personal and emotionally true note, Browne snuck out the side door of the Eagles hit into a cooler-headed and, yes, spiritualized finale, “Our Lady of the Well.” It felt like a benediction, Browne-styled.