By Michael Goldberg

Tom Petty reminds me of that boyish stoner dude I saw around Tam High School in Mill Valley, CA, when I was going there in the late '60s, back when I was a teenager trying to get by, and find my place in the world. That skinny dude, man, straight dirty blond hair down past his shoulders, those round John Lennon wire frames, walk past him, he often smelled like he'd just finished a doobie.

I think his name was Dillon. Not sure if that was his first name or his last. I didn't know him; just saw him there at the school. Man, that dude never sweated nothing, at least that's how it looked. He'd hang out in the empty amphitheater back behind the school at lunch, just kicking back, chatting up the chicks.

Grace. That dude lived his teenage life with grace, and that's no easy deal.

When I hear Tom Petty's music, I think of Dillon.

Never sweated nothing. That's how I imagine it's been for Tom Petty.

Like the lazy-ass stoner groove of "Breakdown," a standout on Petty and the Heartbreakers' '76 debut that shows up on Petty's new four (or five - more on that later) CD "The Live Anthology" (Warner Bors.) from a 1981 performance at the L.A. Forum. You hear that groove, makes you just kick back. How hard can shit be, lazy-ass stoner groove like that one on the stereo. Coming out of the ear buds. Or the laptop.

"It's alright," Petty sings.

And then some of the 16,000 or so fans in the audience way back when, 1981 for God's sake, answer him back. "It's alright."

On a Roll, Baby

Tom Petty's been on a roll since that mid-'70s debut. Fuck yeah, thirty-three years ago. And from where I sit, Petty never broke a sweat. Never showed it anyway. That first album, "Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers," is a masterpiece that found Petty riding a sound that seemed to effortlessly draw from the Stones, Beatles and Dylan. It's a sound that Petty has stuck with, and listening to "The Live Anthology," I hear a continuity of sound and attitude and soulfulness that I find reassuring.

Reassuring. Is rock supposed to be reassuring?

A live album is nearly always a trip down memory lane, you know, like where were you the first time you heard "Breakdown"? Or "Refugee"? Or "The Waiting"? And we control those memories, revise them, and change them, so they tell the story we want to hear. There's a comfort in a good live album from a favorite band. Songs that often found their form in the studio, that we know from multi-track perfect takes, only truly find their groove after they've been beaten into shape on the road.

Is rock supposed to be reassuring?

When you've been listening to an artist for more than half your life, for over three decades, as they've grown, as you've grown, I mean even though they don't know you, and you don't really know you, there's a bond. I don't mean the fan/artist deal. I mean the artist's music sinks deep into who you are; it's not just a soundtrack to your life, which is easy and throwaway. An artist like Petty, or Springsteen or Neil Young. There are truths in the lyrics, the voice, and of course the music.

"You don't have to life like a refugee," Petty sings during a June 1983 performance at Irvine Meadows in Southern California.

I heard him sing "Refugee" on record for the first time back in the fall of '79, that would be thirty years ago, and I was twenty-five then. Fuck yeah, I didn't want to live like a refugee. Wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but I knew I didn't. But there was more.

"Everybody's had to fight to be free," Petty sang.

And he wasn't talking global politics, he was talking about life, his life, your life, my life, and the line you have to draw in order to become your own person.

Yeah, now that was some truth.

If you take that to heart, it changes you. You understand it doesn't always come easy. To be free, beholden to no one. You have to earn that state of grace. That lazy-ass stoner grace. In a world where everyone pretty much ends up working for the man, maybe a line like that makes you figure out a way not to. And makes you willing to fight for it.

Tom Petty on the Superhighway

Four Cds, forty-eight songs. OK, that's the four-CD basic version. We are, of course, in the age of multiple versions of albums. In this case, that's the basic version, which you can pick up for about $18, bargain of the year for sure. Thirty-seven cents a song.

Far better IF you're a hardcore fan who wants more than just the music, is the online digital download version AKA The Superhighway Tour. Sure you get the same 48 songs, but you also get access to audio commentary from Petty, guitarist Mike Campbell and other band members that you can listen to online about many of the tracks, as well we links to reviews, images of tour memorabilia, cover art, and more.

And then there's the far more elaborate (and expensive) Deluxe box set that includes a fifth CD of 14 additional live tracks, two DVDs, one with the previously unreleased New Years Eve 1978 Santa Monica, CA concert, and the other with the "400 Days" 1995 Wildflowers Tour documentary. Also a Blu-Ray Disc with all 62 tracks in both stereo and surround sound, a vinyl LP of the re-mastered 1976 Official Live 'Leg bootleg album. And a book. And a poster. And other stuff.

What About the Music?

It's awesome. These are stunning live performances. I've been living with the set for a few days, so at this point, have more of a sense of the totality of Petty's achievement, rather than specific details that stand out on each track. A damn good collection.

Petty didn't use the false construct of chronology to organize the material, instead going for a sequence that "felt right," creating an ultimate concert by cherry-picking highlights from across his career -- the 48 tracks are drawn from gigs that stretch from 1980 to 2007 (the span is even broader with the Deluxe box) - and structuring a multi-hour listening experience that is both heavy as the love of your life, "Here Comes My Girl," and light as the rock 'n' roll semi-gibberish that is "Diddy Wah Diddy. I suggest you block out the time, kick back and listen from start to finish in one sitting. As the 'show' unfolds, the sheer breadth of Petty's four decade career stretches out, you feel the awe of viewing the Pacific from up on the cliffs as the sun rises back behind you and all at once you see the infinite ocean stretching out before you.

He's in his fifties now, that Dillon dude I was talking about earlier, but I bet he's still living life with an enviable grace, and if he's a Tom Petty fan, and could he not be, I'm sure he'll soon be kicking back, grabbing a cool one or lighting up, and grooving with Petty for around four hours, give or take. I suggest you join him.