Tom Petty was my Bowie

The news that Tom Petty passed away hit me harder than I thought it would. Memories of seeing him and the Heartbreakers on the Mojo tour with my best friend clouded over with the knowledge that both of those people are dead now.

The opener that show? Joe Cocker. Another person I saw that night that I never will again.

In the time since my friend passed, I turned to Petty’s music often as a way to remember the last great outing we had while his cancer was under control enough to go. We went to the show after hours of singing along to those timeless tunes on a series of trips. It was an amazing night, and I remember to this day how often and enthusiastically Tom thanked all of us for being there.

I grew up on Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers — as a child of the 80s, they were established enough to pop up repeatedly throughout my childhood, and Tom’s solo efforts and side-projects kept popping up throughout. His songs seemed timeless in a way that many didn’t, never overtly flashy, but with strong melodies and heartfelt sentiment.

I grew enamoured of the tales told in those tunes. Like Mark Knopfler, he often told stories of other people, from down-on-their-luck folks struggling to get by to women of all stripes dealing with their place in the world. In times of worry or doubt I’d often turn to his catalog to buoy my spirits, especially since most of his tunes split the difference between hope at getting to a better spot and dealing with the hand you’ve been dealt.

As I grew older, I appreciated more and more the wide range of styles packed into each album, changing with the times yet hewing to the solid rock sensibility. Look at the first side of the Southern Accents album — you start out with the hard rocking Rebels, moves into the funky It Ain’t Nothing to Me, moves into the synth-rock of Don’t Come Around Here No More, and closes out with the somber eponymous ballad (one of my all-time favorites). And that’s only the first side!

When Bowie died, much was made of his wide-ranging influence on numerous styles of music. And he deserves every word of praise. But while I remembered Bowie, I’ve been mourning Tom (and by extension my friend as well). His catalog was always a strong shelter in times of turbulence for me, and although I can still find respite within, it’s now a bit emptier since his spirit left that place.

Thanks for everything, Tom. And may my love travel with you always.

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