That whole record was probably his last great one. . .I remember it well. The whole CD flows nicely. . .and still sounds good after nearly 20 years.

Strictly speaking, it's somebody else's video under his song.

But it is really good. .he wrote that song about Reagan's adventures in Nicaragua but it's even more chilling now, IMO.

Here's my Jackson Browne story.

I used to love JB, totally adore him, when I was a teenager. In 1976 he played a theatre in Manchester and I and a friend went to see him. It was a freezing cold October night, really chilly for that time of year.

After the show a few fans (me included, of course) hung around the stage door hoping to get a word or an autograph. We waited. And waited. Everyone drifted away except me and my friend. We were there for over two hours (presumably while they partied inside).

The tour bus pulled up outside. The door opened, JB came out, glanced at us, totally ignored our requests for autographs and got on the bus.

Warren Zevon (who was the support act, a total unknown in the UK at the time, his first album had just come out) and David Lindley (JB's awesome guitarist) both stopped and signed our notebooks. They chatted to us for a few minutes, despite the cold. Both very nice guys. David Lindley had just become a dad and showed us pictures of his new baby. Warren Zevon took our notebooks onto the bus for JB to sign, but he refused. Asshole. Fucking asshole. He knew how long we'd been waiting. We could hear them "Aw, c'mon man, just sign the books" "Get on the fucking bus, Warren. Let's get the fuck out of here"

He brought our unsigned notebooks back out. "I'm really sorry ..." and gave us both a little hug.

Since that night I've not had a minute of time for Jackson Browne. For all his right-on-leftie posturing, he doesn't have time for a couple of fans. But I bought every record Warren Zevon ever made and cried my eyes out when he died. What he did that night was very, very sweet and I'll never forget it.

<drop class="name">

My Jackson Browne story is from about 1994 or so. I'm Alive has just been released and my buddy and I are on our way to the Santa Barbara Bowl to "work" a fundraising event which features Jackson, Bonnie Raitt, and John Prine.

My buddy is closely involved in the organization that puts on the events and it has close ties to all these artists.

When we get there it ends up they don't really need us to work, so we get all access without having to hide when something needs to be done ;)

Just before Jackson's set I go up on the hillside with Jackson's then assistant (she quit shortly thereafter because she found him insufferable) to smoke some weed. About the only time his assistant gets time off is when he is on stage. When I returned to backstage, Jackson has just started playing all these new songs from I'm Alive. No one had heard any of these songs yet. I am standing behind the mix board on stage left (stoned silly) when someone puts their hand on my shoulder and says "this is fuckin' excellent." I turn my head and it is John Prine. I mumble something stupid and grin. I mean it's John Fucking Prine.

After the show, I am asked to watch over Bonnie while she greets some fans. When everyone has left I tell her how much I enjoyed the show (especially Angel from Montgomery since Prine was there to do the duet) and she replied with s weet southern "ain't you a doll for saying so." I blushed.

We went back to the building behind the stage for the post show party (all of these events have these for the folks who can shell out a little extra for the cause), and am standing in a wide circle chatting with some folks (mostly co-workers and friends of the band), when Jackson finally shows up, and joins the circle. He starts rocking back and forth on his heals and asks what everyone's talking about. I can't be sure, but I think he was wired.

Anyway, while I have heard MORE than my share of stories (true no doubt) about Jackson that sound a lot like essexjan's, that was one of the best night's of my life. But not as good as working with Indigo Girls (or Nancy Griffith).

</drop class="name">

I have never met him. Growing up in So Cal, I had heard OF him. . .even been a a couple parties at the same time but he was a star long before his records started coming out. "Life in the Balance" was his shark-jump moment. . .nothing ever was a good after that.

At the height of his fame, I had a friend who was his personal physician.

But based on the celebs I have met (Bukowski was the worst) I am ready to believe the worst.