It's hard not to love Jackson Browne, even if you're not a teenage girl who can't believe how cute he is. Because the power of his songs extends beyond their compact, bittersweet appeal. They consistently express moods and emotions many of us have felt but couldn't conjure up the words to describe. Yet there is something about [Late for the Sky] that irks me. Something about what Jackson does and where he is going, or better, where he is not going, is beginning to show. (p. 74)

[This] recognizable persona comes across in the plaintive tone of his weighty statements that often border dangerously on the whine. And after a while, too much of this stuff is depressing. The combined effect of his straining, mournful voice, the resigned profundity of his lyrics, and the predictable sound of his musical style has begun to wear thin.

Unlike the gospel roots...