The Groove Den Confessions and The Pretender
So it's late up here in the Groove Den tonight. The glow from the LED strip is casting that familiar mood light across the room. I haven't bought a single record in over a month. Part of it is just keeping an eye on the budget, but if I'm being honest, the hunt has been dragging on me a bit lately.
You ever get that feeling? Like you're searching for a specific piece of vinyl to fill a hole that can never actually be filled. Especially since I foolishly ditched my original collection years ago, and yes, I still regret it every single day. I decided to stop overthinking it tonight, dropped the needle on Jackson Browne's The Pretender, and just let it soothe the soul. Sometimes you don't need to analyze the music.
Sometimes the mood is just right.
This mood probably kicked off a few days ago. I got tagged in a Facebook post dragging up the old radio days back in Knoxville. A former mentor of mine, a guy I really looked up to, dropped a comment naming a different DJ as the best night guy ever. He did this knowing full well that I was also his night guy, and knowing I was tagged right there in the thread. I am not going to lie, it felt like a direct shot. But why? We are talking about thirty years ago, and my ego is not that fragile anymore. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe it was just a comment from a guy casually scrolling his feed. And maybe the other DJ really was the better jock. I am not suggesting I was the king of the airwaves. I really don't care either way at this point, but it brought up a much bigger issue about how we communicate these days.
We drop these seemingly harmless comments on social media, but they carry a real weight. It got me curious, so I actually looked up the psychology behind it. Researchers have found that being subtly excluded or diminished online, triggers the exact same neural pathways in your brain as physical pain. Psychologists call it social ostracism. Even when you know it doesn't matter, your brain processes that tiny digital slight like a punch to the gut. It's wild how we just casually inflict that on each other every day.
Driving home today, I called my best friend Rob and relayed the whole Facebook story to him. We ended up having a long talk about friendship and this weird modern culture we live in. I told him very honestly that he is the best friend I've ever had. That's no knock on anyone else in my life, but he has known me the longest and he gets me the best. But the thing I keep circling back to is the purity of it. He is my friend even when I have absolutely nothing to offer him but my friendship. He’s been the same friend when I was living the high life in business, and when I was at the bottom with nothing.
True friendship is strictly about giving. It reminds me of this famous Harvard study from the 1930’s that tracked people for over eighty years. The researchers wanted to find the secret to a happy life. It wasn't fame, and it certainly wasn't wealth. The only consistent predictor of happiness and health was the quality of your close relationships. Period. Having someone who expects nothing but your presence is the ultimate wealth.
And that brings me to the biggest lie we tell ourselves in the professional world. You've heard it a million times. Someone looks you in the eye and says it's not personal, it's just business.
That is absolute bullshit and we all know it.
Everything is personal because we are human beings. We spend years working together, we bleed for the same goals, and we form bonds. So when a business deal shifts directions, how could the other party feel anything but hurt or betrayed? You get told for years that you are vital to the success of the company. You are the ride or die partner. Then one day, the spreadsheet changes and you are out. I speak from a very bitter experience after losing my own business after nearly twenty years. And yes I still have a lot of scar tissue with it. When they say it is just business, what they really mean is they want permission to treat you poorly without feeling guilty about it. And then when you have nothing left to offer, well, the phone calls and texts stop.
This is all hitting right in perfect rhythm with the title track of the album spinning on the turntable. Jackson Browne really nailed it when he sang about being "caught between the longing for love and the struggle for the legal tender." That is exactly where the friction lives. We want that genuine human connection, but the cold machinery of business just wants the cash. We are all just out here trying not to become the pretender he warns us about.
So what do we make of all this late night rambling?
I guess it's pretty simple. Be kind to one another. Remember that there is always a heavy burden someone is carrying that you know nothing about. Skip the silly comments. Put down the “computer” part of the phone and tap the green button to call a friend who expects nothing from you.
I'm going to finish packing my bags now. Emily and Matt are getting married this weekend in New York City and I couldn't be more thrilled for them. It's going to be a beautiful weekend, and you better believe I am carving out some time to do a little crate diving in the big apple. Say a prayer for the Pretender…maybe the magic of the hunt is still waiting for me in some dusty Brooklyn record shop.
Retro Spin Liner Notes
The Production Powerhouse
Produced by Jon Landau and recorded at The Sound Factory in Los Angeles during the spring and summer of 1976. Mixed by Val Garay. The Pretender was born out of profound grief following the tragic passing of Jackson Browne's first wife, Phyllis. Despite the heavy emotional undercurrent, Landau and Garay engineered an incredibly crisp, pristine sounding record that defined the polished aesthetic of late 70s Southern California rock. It remains a masterclass in balancing raw vulnerability with immaculate studio sheen.
The Players
Jackson Browne handled lead vocals, acoustic guitar, and piano, bringing his signature earnestness to every track.
He was backed by the absolute royalty of the 70s LA session scene, famously known as The Section.
Leland Sklar anchored the groove on bass with his unmistakable melodic touch.
Russ Kunkel provided the perfect, understated drum pocket.
Craig Doerge layered the tracks with rich keyboards and synthesizers.
David Lindley, Browne's secret weapon, delivered soaring lap steel and slide guitar work that gave the album its weeping, soulful signature sound.
The Radio Stats
The Pretender was a massive commercial success, peaking at Number 5 on the Billboard 200 chart and eventually certifying multi-platinum.
The lead single, Here Come Those Tears Again, reached Number 23 on the Billboard Hot 100 and became a staple of FM radio.
The title track, The Pretender, charted at Number 58 but went on to become one of the most enduring anthems of Gen X disillusionment, cementing its place on classic rock and adult contemporary playlists for decades.
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