By TONY SAAVEDRA
The Orange County Register
Oh, my, my.
Oh, hell yes.
The music still means something.
It caresses and shoves and inspires and infuriates.
Tom Petty and Jackson Browne, the Southern rocker and the California troubadour. The two hearken to a different time in American music, when songs explored the world's soul, sometimes exposing social wrongs, sometimes simply exposing the human heart.
And rock 'n' roll was the backdrop. The sugar that made you take the medicine.
The songs were meant to make you move: to the dance floor, to the ballot box, to the side of a loved one.
Before electronica and rap and heavy-handed metal with expletives substituting for insight, there was a time when the music meant something.
Petty and Browne took the audience back to that time Saturday at the Blockbuster Pavilion in Devore.
Both are storytellers, weaving yarns about cruising with Del on the radio, running up 101, searching out dreams and never quite arriving.
Petty and the Heartbreakers never let up in a two-hour, 19-song set that interspersed the hits with rock standards and cuts off the new album, "The Last DJ," due in October.
Skeletal and clean-shaven, with long blond hair, Petty belied his 50 years, looking more like an off-kilter ingenue than an elder statesman of rock. He prowled the stage, feral and feline, armed with a procession of Telecasters, Stratocasters, Gibson SG's and the trademark Rickenbacker.
He thanked the audience often and castigated the sell-outs, the musicians whose songs are used to hawk everything from cars to light beer to bank loans. He pointed to the corporate boxes lining the back of the orchestra section.
"Being a rock 'n' roll band in the year 2002, it's really hard to avoid the corporate boxes," Petty said. "But I'm really proud to tell you, this tour has no corporate (sponsors) ... . We're brought to you, by you."
Ace guitarist Mike Campbell provided the petrol for Petty's scorching set, blistering through "Runnin' Down A Dream," "I Need To Know," "Refugee" and "American Girl." Original bassist Ron Blair, returning to the band after a 20-year absence, also energized the show with solid background vocals and pounding bass lines.
Petty's lyrics still hold up, from the defiant warning "You can stand me up at the gates of hell, but I won't back down," to the even more defiant exhortation "Baby, even the losers get lucky sometime."
The three cuts he played off the "The Last DJ" album brought huge applause from an audience hearing them mostly for the first time.
And Petty offered "Lost Children" as a prayer in the aftermath of this summer's child abductions, here and elsewhere. He began the song by saying, "I hope there's a time again when a child can go out his front door and be safe in America."
Opening before a half-filled arena, Browne leaned mostly on his electric songs, from "Runnin' On Empty" to "For A Rocker." But his is a more sensitive, softer place in rock. More poet than ax man.
"Out into the cool of the evening, strolls the pretender. Who started out so young and strong, only to surrender," Browne sang, in his new role as opening act after decades as a headliner.
But the music still means something. And in the end, that's all that matters.