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**Jackson Browne - For Everyman**
★★★★☆

By 1973, Jackson Browne had already established himself as the poet laureate of California's sun-drenched melancholy with his self-titled debut, but it was with *For Everyman* that he truly stepped into his role as chronicler of the American dream's beautiful decay. Following the commercial and critical success of his first album—which spawned the classic "Doctor My Eyes"—Browne found himself at a crossroads, grappling with newfound fame while wrestling with the personal demons that would define much of his work.

The album emerged during a period of intense creativity and personal turmoil. Browne was navigating the complexities of his relationship with Phyllis Major, whom he would marry later that year, while simultaneously processing the weight of expectation that comes with being hailed as the next great American songwriter. The sessions at Crystal Sound Studios saw him collaborating with a murderer's row of West Coast talent, including David Lindley's otherworldly slide guitar work and the rhythm section that would become the backbone of the Laurel Canyon sound.

Musically, *For Everyman* finds Browne expanding beyond the folk-rock template of his debut into richer, more sophisticated territory. There's a cinematic quality to these songs, as if each track is scoring a different scene from some great American novel that exists only in Browne's imagination. The production, handled by Browne himself alongside Al Schmitt, strikes that perfect balance between intimacy and grandeur—close enough to hear every crack in his voice, expansive enough to contain his ambitious arrangements.

The title track opens proceedings with a statement of intent, Browne's voice floating over gentle acoustic strumming as he paints portraits of ordinary people struggling with extraordinary loneliness. It's a song that could have been maudlin in lesser hands, but Browne's empathy transforms it into something transcendent. "I Thought I Was a Child" follows, a devastating meditation on lost innocence that showcases his ability to find universal truths in personal experience.

But it's "These Days" that stands as the album's masterpiece—a song so perfectly crafted it feels less written than discovered. Originally penned when Browne was just sixteen, it finds its definitive reading here, his mature voice lending gravity to lyrics that were already wise beyond their author's years. The way he delivers "I've been out walking / I don't do too much talking these days" is nothing short of heartbreaking, each word weighted with the accumulated disappointments of early adulthood.

"Take It Easy," co-written with Glenn Frey and already a massive hit for the Eagles, appears here in its original form—more contemplative, less anthemic, but no less powerful. It's fascinating to hear Browne's version alongside the Eagles' interpretation, like comparing a watercolor to an oil painting of the same landscape.

The album's emotional centerpiece might be "Colors of the Sun," a gorgeous ballad that finds Browne at his most vulnerable, while "Our Lady of the Well" showcases his storytelling prowess with its tale of small-town dreams and disappointments. Throughout, David Lindley's instrumental contributions are nothing short of inspired, his lap steel and violin adding textures that transform good songs into great ones.

*For Everyman* stands today as perhaps Browne's most cohesive statement, a perfect snapshot of an artist hitting his stride while American optimism was beginning to curdle into something more complex. It's an album that predicted the spiritual exhaustion of the mid-seventies while offering its own form of hard-won wisdom as antidote.

The record's influence can be heard echoing through decades of American songwriting, from the introspective singer-songwriters of the eighties through to contemporary artists like Phoebe Bridgers and Father John Misty. It established the template for what thoughtful, adult pop music could be—neither cynical nor naive, but clear-eyed about both love's possibilities and its limitations.

Nearly fifty years later, *For Everyman* remains a high-water mark of American songcraft, a reminder that the best music doesn't just soundtrack our lives—it helps us understand them. In an era of increasing noise, Browne's quiet wisdom feels more necessary than ever.