Personnel: Jackson Browne (vocals, guitar, piano); David Lindley (guitar); Craig Doerge (piano, organ, Fender Rhodes piano, keyboards); Bill Payne (organ, synthesizer); Bob Glaub (bass); Russ Kunkel, Rick Marotta (drums); Danny Kortchmar (maracas); Doug Haywood, Rosemary Butler (background vocals).

Recorded at The Sound Factory and Record One, Los Angeles, California.

If Jackson Browne had convincingly lowered the bar set by his first three albums on his fourth and fifth ones, his sixth, Hold Out, found him once again seeking some measure of satisfaction, albeit in reduced circumstances. His songs were less philosophical, but they were also more personal. In "Of Missing Persons," he once again took on a eulogy as his subject, but unlike "Song to Adam" or "For a Dancer," there the song was directed to his late friend's daughter and encouraged her recovery: it was more a song for the living than for the dead. Newly aware of the world around him ("Boulevard"), he was also newly sensitive to others, notably on the mutual dependency song "Call It a Loan." But the personal tone sometimes made him less sure-footed as a performer; "Hold on Hold Out," the traditional big, long, last song on the album, was awkwardly, not winningly, intimate, just as the attention-grabbing lead-off track, "Disco Apocalypse," was merely foolish instead of whatever it may have been intended to be (satire? drama?). If Browne was still trying to write himself out of the cul-de-sac he had created for himself early on, Hold Out represented an earnest attempt that nevertheless fell short. ~ William Ruhlmann

If Jackson Browne had convincingly lowered the bar set by his first three albums on his fourth and fifth ones, his sixth, Hold Out, found him once again seeking some measure of satisfaction, albeit in reduced circumstances. His songs were less philosophical, but they were also more personal. In "Of Missing Persons," he once again took on a eulogy as his subject, but unlike "Song to Adam" or "For a Dancer," the song was directed to his late friend's daughter and encouraged her recovery: it was more a song for the living than for the dead. Newly aware of the world around him ("Boulevard"), he was also newly sensitive to others, notably on the mutual dependency song "Call It a Loan." ~ William Ruhlmann

Browne, the quintessential sensitive singer-songwriter, entered the '80s with a harder, more commercial sound on HOLD OUT. Foreshadowed by 1978's RUNNING ON EMPTY, HOLD OUT is full of biting electric guitar courtesy of David Lindley, and a booming drum sound that crosses the '70s L.A. sound with the burgeoning arena-rock aesthetic. Though the elaborate poesy and introspective acoustic meditations of Browne's early work are absent here, the songs are full of thoughtful observations and well-crafted lyrics.

"That Girl Could Sing" and "Hold On Hold Out" take an uncompromising look at troubled romance without losing the endearing wistfulness that is Browne's secret weapon. On "Boulevard," Browne takes a shot at Springsteen-ish street vignette, and the driving rhythm makes the perfect springboard for what could be seen as a worthy successor to "Running On Empty," but this time focusing outward rather than inward, an important progression in Browne's work.