Echo (1999)
1. Room at the Top
2. Counting on You
3. Free Girl Now
4. Lonesome Sundown
5. Swingin'
6. Accused of Love
7. Echo
8. Won't Last Long
9. Billy the Kid
10.I Don't Wanna Fight
11.This One's For Me
12.No More
13.About to Give Out
14.Rhino Skin
15.One More Day, One More Night
Throughout his career, Tom Petty exhibited a recurring creative pattern: the follow-up to a major success would often mirror its predecessor in tone and execution, albeit with slightly diminished results. So it was with Echo, which arrived on the heels of Wildflowers—an album widely hailed as Petty’s most cohesive and emotionally resonant work. Once again produced by Rick Rubin, Echo attempts to replicate the stripped-back elegance of its forerunner, but the results, while commendable, never quite strike the same chord of brilliance.
Officially, this is a Heartbreakers release, whereas Wildflowers was categorized as a solo effort. In practice, the distinction is largely ceremonial. The personnel may shift slightly—most notably with the departure of longtime drummer Stan Lynch—but the sonic identity remains largely consistent. Indeed, by this stage, even the most attentive fans could be forgiven for failing to notice the label on the spine.
The album opens promisingly enough. A Room at the Top stands as the emotional centerpiece—aching, dignified, and vintage Petty. It’s the kind of song that manages to feel both deeply personal and universally resonant, and it easily ranks among his finest late-period compositions. Billy the Kid and Swingin’ similarly echo the familiar Petty tropes—jangling guitars, narrative swagger, and that singular vocal delivery that has always been more affect than affectation.
Elsewhere, though, the record begins to wander. Tracks like Free Girl Now and I Don’t Wanna Fight feel oddly self-conscious, as if Petty were momentarily tempted to chase the alt-rock currents of the late ’90s rather than stick to the rootsier terrain he had long since mastered. It’s not that these songs are bad per se—merely that they feel borrowed, whereas the best of Petty has always felt innate. More successful are the introspective pieces that dot the album’s second half: Lonesome Sundown, No More, and the title track Echo may take time to settle in, but they reward patience with quiet depth and understated grace.
At fifteen tracks and over an hour in length, the album is undeniably overextended. It’s not just that it feels long—it is long. That said, in the era of the compact disc, length was rarely a crime unless the quality flagged, and even here, there are enough well-crafted moments to justify the sprawl. If Echo doesn’t quite reach the lyrical heights or emotional economy of Wildflowers, it nevertheless stands as a thoughtful and occasionally bold entry in Petty’s canon.
Ultimately, Echo reveals an artist willing to shed old skins, explore new textures, and occasionally misstep in the name of evolution. For someone already entrenched in rock’s upper echelons, such restlessness is not only admirable—it’s necessary.
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