Neither will the characters that populate his songs. Echo is filled with defiant men and women who stick their chins out and are proud to maintain a high level of resilience in the face of adversity. The guy who "went down hard" in "Billy the Kid" still "got up again." The subject of "Free Girl Now" wins her independence from oppressive boyfriends and groping bosses. In "Swingin'," one of those songs in which Petty draws a female protagonist to express his views, the heroine may go down but never gives up the fight. Even when Petty frets at one point that he's "about to give out," the song's furiously rocking energy lets us know that he'll more than likely power his way through. Strength is clearly an asset on the path Petty travels; "You need rhino skin/ If you're gonna begin to walk through this world," he explains in "Rhino Skin." But that's not simply macho posing, either; that same covering, he asserts, is necessary "if you're gonna pretend you're not hurt by this world." In songs such as "Lonesome Sundown," "This One's for Me," and "One More Day, One More Night," he acknowledges and even embraces the pain as another beautiful part of a complete experience.
Echo hits hard, in the same manner as their 1996 soundtrack for She's the One did, rather than the more delicate constructions heard on 1991's Into the Great Wide Open or on Petty's second solo album, Wildflowers. With one foot in the garage and the other in the Brill Building — by way of the Florida swampland from which it hails — the group fills Echo with songs that are sinewy and tightly performed, but that still convey a looseness and sense of space that speaks of a band that plays more by instinct than by careful arrangement. "Free Girl Now," "About to Give Out," and the punky "I Don't Wanna Fight" (penned by guitarist Mike Campbell) kick out the jams but never lose the Heartbreakers' inherent sense of dynamics. The rootsy flavor of "Won't Last Long" and the Byrdsy jangle of "This One's for Me" mix well with the rich, detailed soundscapes co-producers Petty, Campbell, and Rick Rubin craft on "Swingin'," "Billy the Kid," "Room at the Top," and "Rhino Skin." And quieter pieces such as "Lonesome Sundown," "No More," and the title track convey a genuine, heartbreaking ache that reminds us that in the right, skilled hands, rock and roll snot and tender balladry can not only co-exist but also improve each other by their association. Most importantly, Petty and the Heartbreakers still make it sound damn good.
— Gary Graff (Wall Of Sound)
s he finishes his 12th album with the Heartbreakers, Tom Petty informs us that "I had to fight/ To keep my line of sight/ On what's real." That's the story of Petty and the Heartbreakers in a nutshell: two-plus (recorded) decades of guitar-fueled rock and roll firmly rooted in the classic mid- and late-'60s, never bowing — either sonically or stylistically — to trends along the way. That's on top of battling contractual and pricing issues with his record companies early in his career. A decade ago Petty declared he "won't back down;" now, at a point where his career could comfortably slip into stasis, he still won't.