Tom Petty

An American hero. Hair blowing in the wind and guitar slung over his shoulder, Thomas Earl Petty always rode the green prairies of rock "with one foot in the grave and the other on the pedal," as he put it in his own "Rebels". Half-Seminole, deeply attached to the roots of tradition and to the dusty epic that shaped the history of American rock, Petty embodies the archetype of the unblemished rocker, yet at the same time steps outside the cliché, thanks to an uncommon versatility and self-deprecating wit. Sardonic and irreverent, just like the Mad Hatter from "Alice in Wonderland" that he played in one of his famous music videos. An atypical figure, closer to the pop sensibility of a Ric Ocasek than to the populist rhetoric of Bruce Springsteen, to whom so many have forcibly likened him. Because his songwriting, looked at closely, is far more multifaceted than it's usually portrayed: an explosive blend of hard rock, blues, FM-ready AOR, Byrds-like jangle, Dylanesque touches and aching Beatles-style melodies, all seasoned over time with increasingly varied and unpredictable arrangements.

His career, spent largely alongside the legendary Heartbreakers, one of the most powerful bands in rock history, was a headlong dash through a dream that captured the hearts of Americans, selling tens of millions of records. Only in Europe, and in Italy especially, did his name inexplicably remain in the background, never quite managing to break through completely.

The sound of Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers established itself as an unmistakable trademark right from their self-titled debut album. Subsequent releases consolidated it, first and foremost "Damn The Torpedoes" (1979), which would serve as the launchpad for stardom. And yet, after establishing themselves in the heart of the 1980s and even backing Bob Dylan on the "True Confessions Tour", Tom and the Heartbreakers seemed tired, almost drained. "Let Me Up (I've Had Enough)", released in 1987, was something of a flop. And Tom's private life took a hard hit too, when an arsonist set fire to his home in the San Fernando Valley, destroying his possessions and terrorizing his wife and two daughters, who fortunately came out unscathed.

Petty then took a break, during which he worked with Jeff Lynne of Electric Light Orchestra on a new project: the Traveling Wilburys, a supergroup with Bob Dylan, George Harrison and Roy Orbison. In short, one of the most extraordinary all-star bands of all time. Our heroes crossed guitars and, gathered in a circle around a microphone, unleashed a handful of breezy, good-times rock'n'roll. The project would last only two albums, cut short in part by Orbison's death, but it proved decisive for Petty, marking a crucial turning point in his career.

"Full Moon Fever" is its most precious fruit. An album credited for the first time to him alone, without the Heartbreakers, with only Campbell serving as multi-instrumentalist and co-producer. Because its sound cannot be attributed to that glorious brand name. It's a brand-new sound. And an incredible one.

Full-moon fever bewitches Petty. And Lynne, master of the chorus hook, is his sorcerer: he takes the producer's chair and architects his typically rich, imaginative arrangements, forging a sound decidedly rounder and more polished than the Heartbreakers line. A sophisticated pop shell that is through and through a child of the Eighties. Lending a hand are two more Wilburys: George Harrison (acoustic guitar and backing vocals on "I Won't Back Down") and, shortly before his death, Roy Orbison (backing vocals on "Zombie Zoo").

Illuminated by Lynne's melodic grace, Petty lands a string of killer singles and breathtaking ballads. The gorgeous harmonies from Campbell and Lynne, the shimmering layers of keyboards and the Beatlesque charm of the melodies (almost inevitable, putting together two Fab Four obsessives like Petty and Lynne) reinvigorate a sound that had seemed to run dry, giving it a second life. Because the folk-rock roots, the jangly Byrds-like echoes and even the lyrics themselves, with their small and large-scale sagas of small-town loners, haven't disappeared. It's, in short, one of those magical alchemies that can turn a career around. And so it would prove: the album became Petty's bestseller, even reaching No. 3 on the American charts.

The first hit, "Free Fallin'", gradually eases us into this new frontier, with harmonies and arpeggiated guitars accompanying a free fall into an emotional whirlwind of inadequacy and impossible loves, with that touch of disenchanted irony that has always defined the man: "She's a good girl, loves her mama/ Loves Jesus and America too/ She's a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis/ Loves horses and her boyfriend too... And I'm a bad boy, 'cause I don't even miss her/ I'm a bad boy for breakin' her heart". But already "I Won't Back Down" is a striking foray into velvety pop-rock, practically a cold fusion of ELO and the Heartbreakers, with the "gentle weeping" of Harrison's guitar backing another proud declaration of independence. The sound gains speed and rock swagger on the other tour de force, "Love Is A Long Road", with a play of stops and keyboards that recalls the Who's "Baba O'Riley".

Softer and hazier, "A Face In The Crowd" slips into an abyss of melancholy, lost in memories and reflections on the passage of time, with those wonderfully dense, elegant arrangements into which the slide guitar languidly insinuates itself. Petty pulls off the miracle of carving out glimpses of desolation and making them look like a waking dream. Dreams to be chased at full tilt, behind blazing hard-rock riffs ("Runnin' Down A Dream", with Campbell in the spotlight) or exuberant beats of yesteryear (the cover of the Byrds' "Feel A Whole Lot Better").

When that drive is paired with the melodic charm of "Yer So Bad", with its chiming guitars and peerless harmonies, Petty truly seems to reach the zenith of his art of nostalgia, in which irony always arrives just in time to save you from tears ("My sister got lucky, married a yuppie/ Took him for all he was worth/ Now she's a swinger dating a singer/ I can't decide which is worse"). Only to then undo you with melancholy through the disarming simplicity of an acoustic lullaby ("Alright For Now") that throws your heart wide open: "I've spent my life travelin'/ I've spent my life free/ I could not repay all you've done for me/ So sleep tight baby/ Unfurrow your brow/ And know I love you".

After so much grace, one could easily be satisfied, but it doesn't end there. "Depending On You" plays again on keyboards, with brisk, driving cadences, while "The Apartment Song" keeps the link to tradition alive, returning to folk'n'roll roots and proving to be the most "Heartbreakers" track of the bunch. But the album confirms its original trademark right through to the end too, thanks to the buoyant dynamics of "A Mind With A Heart On Its Own" and the even dancey cadences of "Zombie Zoo", which winks at the irreverent Cars of "You Might Think".

It closes on festive tones, but melancholy is always just around the corner. All of America is cradled within the ballads of the Full Moon. Millions of everyday working-class heroes see their own desperate dreams reflected in this Southern Man, eternally clinging to his guitar, in his sagas of solitary, unyielding pride.

With "Full Moon Fever", Tom the hatter pulls the perfect record out of his hat. But his career would carry on with full dignity right up to recent years, continuing to deliver, here and there, further gems of healthy, simple and necessary rock'n'roll.

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24/06/2012