Mojo (2010)
1. Jefferson Jericho Blues
2. First Flash of Freedom
3. Running Man's Bible
4. The Trip to Pirate's Cove
5. Candy
6. No Reason to Cry
7. I Should Have Known It
8. U.S. 41
9. Takin' My Time
10.Let Yourself Go
11.Don't Pull Me Over
12.Lover's Touch
13.High in the Morning
14.Something Good Coming
15.Good Enough
When word first circulated that Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers were preparing a “blues album,” it was difficult not to greet the news with a measure of apprehension. The blues, as a genre, carries its own mythology and its own baggage—revered by purists, overplayed by imitators, and notoriously difficult to render with freshness. For listeners less enamored with its repetitive structures and stock lyrical themes, the prospect of Petty turning in a set of 12-bar tributes was more daunting than enticing. Expectations were tempered accordingly.
Fortunately, as has so often been the case, Petty confounded expectations in the best way possible. Mojo, for all the advance labeling, is not a blues album in the conventional sense. Rather than reaching back to the Delta or the Chicago barrooms of old, Petty seems more inspired by the psychedelic haze and garage-rock edge of the late 1960s—territory previously staked out by The Yardbirds, early Hendrix, and, of course, The Byrds. Yes, the blues is part of that lineage, but this record bears more resemblance to late-night FM radio circa 1968 than to Chess Records compilations.
Even so, the opening track—Jefferson Jericho Blues—does little to ease early concerns. It’s a strangely limp affair, built around a repetitive, skeletal riff and saddled with lyrics of questionable taste and little wit. Petty has rarely misfired so quickly out of the gate. But the stumble is temporary. What follows is a far more engaging collection of material—texturally rich, musically relaxed, and sonically immersive. The album doesn’t trade in sharp contrasts or standout singles so much as it sustains a mood. And in this case, that mood is both inviting and oddly nostalgic.
Petty has, by now, made a habit of delivering generously long albums—fifteen tracks here, as with several of his post-Wildflowers efforts. The pacing can sag slightly in places—Takin’ My Time and Reason to Cry being the most expendable—but the core of the record remains strong. The highlights are centered in the album’s midsection: Candy is a sly, tongue-in-cheek gem, and I Should Have Known It delivers a shot of snarling power that would have sat comfortably on Damn the Torpedoes. The blues-informed U.S. 41 and the gently kaleidoscopic Let Yourself Go round out the most memorable entries.
Technically, this marks the return of the Heartbreakers moniker for the first time since 2002’s The Last DJ, though—as always—the line between “solo” and “band” remains porous. The lineup here features a few new faces, but the constant presence of Mike Campbell ensures continuity. His guitar work is, as ever, fluid, inventive, and perfectly attuned to Petty’s sensibilities. Whatever the shifting personnel behind him, the core identity remains intact.
Mojo may not reinvent the wheel, but it doesn't need to. It’s a warm, analog-sounding record that avoids the trappings of nostalgia while drawing from the best parts of Petty’s influences. For an artist more than three decades into his career, this is not just a respectable showing—it’s a convincing one. The skeptics, it turns out, had little to worry about.
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