THE WILD ONE, FOREVER
Remembering Tom Petty 

by Steve J.
Originally published on Medium.com/Cuepoint May 29, 2016

Strange. I’m sitting here sharing, I think, a weird moment between the present of this mortal coil, and the afterlife, as conflicting reports about one of my all-time favorite artists also vacillates between the two. It was reported that Tom Petty had passed, and social media exploded with instant grief, sadness and remembrances before giving way to — maybe, just maybe — that Petty was still clinging to life. Still, the outcome looked dire. Discovered in cardiac arrest and rushed to the hospital, there was no pulse and no brain activity. Reports cited a DNR and that the singer had been removed from life support from his family, who awaited the inevitable. Regardless, the outlook for one of his generation’s greatest songwriters and performers did not look good.

Musically speaking, growing up in Florida in the Seventies was pretty bleak… certainly not cutting edge. And, for those who did look for that edge, as I did in the Ramones, the Sex Pistols and the Clash, it was even more dire than just the tired-ass radio offerings. Humiliation and the threat of an ass-beating certainly awaited those not genuflecting at the altar of Boston, Kansas, and Styx . Let’s not even get into the Charlie Daniels Band and the Marshall Tucker band. It was rough.

But then along comes Gainesville’s own Tom Petty. His debut album hit in 1976, the same year as The Ramones. The cover featuring TP in a leather jacket and smirk was confusing; was this punk rock? Hard to tell; the classic “Flying V” logo” looked more classic rock. But, of course, the music triumphed. Pick your favorite: “American Girl” or “Breakdown” — both will go down in the annals of all-time great rock’n’roll songs. And I will submit a couple of other favorites, in “The Wild One, Forever.” “ Strangered In The Night,” “Fooled Again,” and the transcendent “Luna.” That’s half a dozen classics on a debut album.

I could go on and on about his killer, sometimes overlooked, sophomore album, although I blanched at that cover photo as well. But you can’t argue with “When The Time Comes,” “I Need To Know,” or “Listen To Her Heart,” which featured the then-controversial line “You think you’re gonna take her away, with your money and your cocaine.” When record company execs suggested Petty change “cocaine” to “champagne,” he famously responded “Champagne? What’s that..like, 10 bucks a bottle?” Tom Petty always perfectly straddled that line between pop, rock and roll, and — yes — a punkier outlook than his contemporaries, although always wrapped up in classic rock riffs.

And then, the deluge; Damn The Torpedos seemed a premeditated assault on the MOR/FM airwaves and, man, did it deliver. Everyone knows *that* album: “Refugee,” a song that couldn’t be written in these times, “Even The Losers,” which gave voice and hope to those who were not star athletes, the homecoming king or queen or the most popular kid in class, and the immortal “Here Comes My Girl.” That song would forever be cemented in my mind by the throwaway, so-proud-boyfriend spoken line of “Now watch her walk…” God. It was…perfect. That tour was my first Petty concert. Oddly, there in his home state, riding his hugely successful album, they only sold out half the venue. Petty performed with a curtain behind him closing off half of the auditorium. WTF?

Hard Promises gave us “The Waiting,’ but perhaps more importantly insight into Tom Petty, the person, who withheld the album due to rising record prices and then stickered it, telling consumers “Do not pay more than $9.99” for the album. I loved that.

As radio and the music industry changed, Petty would rise and fall, until his solo entrees delivered the massive hits “Free Fallin’’ and “You Don’t Know How It Feels,” which, in my opinion, features the single greatest drum track in the history of rock and roll. Seeing “Learning To Fly” live was just amazing, a total joyous connection between the performer, the audience, and the song’s bittersweet message. I liked the song, but after seeing it live, it left an indelible mark that I won’t ever forget. I think about that moment now every time I hear it. That’s what good music does to you.

But I digress. Tom Petty was an everyman, an under-the-radar bonafide rock god, and The Heartbreakers were one of the greatest self-contained bands of all time. That’s so easy to see now, and perhaps it always was. Maybe the great ones are always taken for granted ’til they’re gone. I caught Petty and company here on the East Cost whenever I could, from the Garden to Fenway Park, and then back to the Garden just this past August, with my daughter in tow. From my perspective, Petty and his band were a beacon of light, a reminder of both what was once great about rock music and FM radio, and a pointer to where passion and heart could lead it.

For those of us who loved the Beatles, albeit too young to be Beatlemaniacs, had just missed the Stones at their peak, and who embraced the fervor and energy of punk rock but craved both melody and musicianship, there was Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. Solid as a fucking rock, and ten times as good. Nobody hated Tom Petty. Everyone sang along with their favorite songs. Losing the people who created the soundtrack to your youth is never easy, especially when it comes too soon. John Lennon, Bob Marley, Jerry Garcia and Joe Strummer come to mind. So why is it that this one, Tom Petty, seems to dig so deep?

“People come, people go
Some grow young, some grow cold
I woke up in between
A memory and a dream…”

Miss you already, TP.