The Long Hard Road to Wildflowers and How Tom Petty Learned to Let Go
- Ben Preece
- 3 days ago
- 13 min read
A deep dive into Wildflowers, Tom Petty’s most vulnerable album, its lost songs, and the story behind the music that listens back.
Tom Petty, Wildflowers
I was always destined to be a Tom Petty fan. As a kid, I collected greatest hits CDs. If I heard an artist on the radio, I’d go out and hope there was a compilation waiting for me in the racks—something I could clutch like a map to a world I hadn’t fully explored yet. The Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers Greatest Hits compilation from 1993 was one of those records. A benchmark. One of those rare collections that felt as essential as the studio albums themselves—carefully sequenced, perfectly weighted, and capped off with two new songs like a gift at the end. It told a story, even if I didn’t know it yet.
Wildflowers wasn’t part of that story at the time—at least, not officially. It arrived just after, in 1994, when I was a burgeoning fan, ready to consume whatever Petty put out. For me, Tom Petty wasn’t just another name in the Americana songbook. He came from a long line of rock ’n’ roll that started with The Beatles and always seemed to find a deeper resonance in the UK than back home in the States. His voice carried a certain grit, his songs a particular openness that felt like they belonged to everyone, no matter where you were listening from. And he was an industry warrior, campaigning for less expensive concert tickets, keeping the music real and fighting with whichever DJ would get in his way.
But Wildflowers felt different. It wasn’t just another Tom Petty album. It felt like something quieter, more intimate, more... true. And I think I knew that even then, even as a kid just starting to put the pieces together.
The Long Hard Road to Wildflowers
Music is a unique art form—capable of showing you parts of yourself you didn’t know existed. Thoughts and feelings from your deepest subconscious can bubble up and spill across the page, even when you’re not sure what they mean yet. Tom Petty was a master at that.
He’d spent his career writing songs that sounded effortless—full of hooks, highways, and heartbreak. His motto with The Heartbreakers was “Don’t bore us, get to the chorus,” an ethos they lived up to for the most part. But beneath the surface, there was always a restlessness. A search for something more honest, more human. With Wildflowers, that search came into full focus.
By 1994, Petty was at a crossroads. The Traveling Wilburys had wound down—a project that had let him work alongside heroes like George Harrison and Bob Dylan, as well as Roy Orbison and Jeff Lynne, with whom he co-wrote Orbison’s posthumously released smash, ‘You Got It’. His time as Charlie T. Wilbury Jr. in the greatest supergroup of all time was the stuff of dreams, but when it ended, it left him creatively adrift.
The Heartbreakers’ Greatest Hits compilation had just been released—a runaway success that neatly tied a bow around the band’s first near-two decades. His long marriage to Jane Benyo was crumbling, weighed down by years of distance, drug use, and the unspoken strains of a life lived in the public eye. And while The Heartbreakers were still his family, there was a growing sense that he needed something different. Tensions with drummer Stan Lynch weren’t helping and he would soon leave the band for good.
Of course, Petty was no stranger to the solo album. His 1989 outing Full Moon Fever, produced by Jeff Lynne, had been a career high—yielding mammoth hits and a level of commercial success he hadn’t seen before.
Enter Rick Rubin. Known for heavy metal, hip-hop, and his shamanic sense of when to step in and when to step back, Rubin was an unlikely choice for Petty—but it worked. He encouraged Petty to write freely, to shed the expectations of the band dynamic, and to follow his own intuition. The sessions were loose, sprawling, and prolific—over 25 songs recorded, some of which would remain in the vault for decades.
Wildflowers is the sound of an artist letting go. It’s about freedom, yes—but also about the fear of what happens when you lose the things you’ve held onto for so long. A marriage, a band, a sense of control. It’s a record that seemingly floats between the light and the dark, the hopeful and the haunted. And it’s that tension—between beauty and sadness, between holding on and letting go—that makes Wildflowers feel so timeless.
Personnel: The Wildflowers Ensemble
While Wildflowers is technically a solo album, but it’s deeply entwined with the DNA of The Heartbreakers. In fact, everyone from the band played on it—except drummer Stan Lynch, whose relationship with Petty had become increasingly strained. Lynch did record one song during the Wildflowers sessions, but it didn’t make the final cut. Instead, the drum stool was handed to Steve Ferrone, who brought a steady, soulful groove that perfectly suited the album’s looser, more organic feel. Ferrone would go on to become the Heartbreakers’ full-time drummer, solidifying a new chapter for the band.
Mike Campbell’s guitar work is all over Wildflowers, his playing often subtle but essential—offering those slide flourishes, melodic lines, and searing solos that gave the songs their pulse. Benmont Tench’s keyboards weave through the record like threads of smoke—never overpowering, always serving the song. Howie Epstein, on bass, adds warmth and depth to the rhythm section, his harmonies often hovering just behind Petty’s vocal, adding to the record’s intimate feel.
Beyond the Heartbreakers, the album features a few unexpected guests including a Beatle and a Beach Boy. Ringo Starr contributes drums to ‘To Find a Friend’, a subtle but significant cameo that feels like a quiet blessing from one of Petty’s earliest heroes. Carl Wilson of The Beach Boys adds delicate harmonies to ‘Honey Bee’, a subtle touch that lends the track an extra shimmer of California sunshine.
And then there’s Rick Rubin, who played the role of producer and occasional spiritual guide—urging Petty to trust his instincts, to let the songs breathe, and to capture the performances as honestly as possible.
The result is an album that feels both deeply personal and quietly collaborative—a snapshot of a band in transition, a songwriter in flux, and a circle of friends making good music that mattered.
Track by Track: Listening in Layers
1. Wildflowers
"You belong among the wildflowers..."
A hymn for the lost, but also for those quietly seeking freedom. Petty sounds as if he’s sitting across from you, whispering encouragement, offering a soft place to land. The acoustic guitar drifts, the melody feels inevitable, and the whole thing seems plucked from the ether.
Key quote (Tom Petty, 1994): "I just took a deep breath, and it came out. The whole song. Stream of consciousness: words, music, chords. Finished it."
2. You Don’t Know How It Feels
"Let’s get to the point, let’s roll another joint..."
Laid-back and laconic, this is Petty at his most sly—half-smirk, half-sigh. The harmonica curls like cigarette smoke, and the whole track feels like a shrug against the world’s expectations. That line might have been the hook, but it’s the undercurrent of loneliness that lingers.
Listen for: Heartbreakers co-founder and keys man Benmont Tench’s organ, melting like dusk in the background.
Fun fact: The song’s infamous “joint” line was censored on radio edits, replaced with “let’s hit another joint”—a subtle but cheeky workaround.
3. Time to Move On
"It’s time to move on, time to get going..."
A bittersweet meditation on change—how it hurts, how it heals, and how sometimes there’s no other choice. This track was inspired by Petty’s own fears about breaking free from old patterns and expectations. The muted organ and acoustic shuffle feels just like a dusty highway stretching out into the unknown.
For fans of: Neil Young’s Harvest and Jackson Browne’s Late for the Sky.
4. You Wreck Me
"Tonight we ride, right or wrong..."
The one that resonated with me as a kid. Not knowing much about producers back then, it was the most Heartbreakers-sounding song to my ears, a logical grasp after loving Jeff Lynne-produced Heartbreakers hits like 'Running Down A Dream', 'Into The Great Wide Open' and 'Mary Jane's Last Dance'. Now I hear the album's rowdiest moment with Ferrone's tighter drumming than Stan Lynch would've played—still ragged, urgent, and barely holding on. Mike Campbell’s guitar burns hot, and Petty’s voice strains in the best possible way. It’s a barroom anthem that’s always a little frayed at the edges.
Fun fact: Petty wanted to leave this off the album. Rubin didn't.
5. It’s Good to Be King
"It’s good to be king and have your own way..."
A slow-burn reflection on fame, fortune, and the hollow comforts they bring. Campbell’s slide guitar aches, and Petty sounds both self-aware and resigned—knowing that the crown is heavy, but still wanting to wear it anyway.
Closest cousin: George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass.
Listen for: The gorgeous strings—quiet as a breath, but lingering in your chest.
Fun fact: Petty once said this song came from “a place of sadness,” not arrogance.
6. Only a Broken Heart
"Here comes that feeling, the one I’ve tried to lose..."
A fragile lament. Petty’s voice is hushed, almost tentative, like he’s still figuring out the hurt as he sings. The song drifts like smoke, barely tethered to the earth.
Collector’s note: Early vinyl pressings have this track slightly hotter in the mix, lending the vocals an extra rawness.
7. Honey Bee
"She likes to call me honey bee..."
Swaggering, swampy blues. Petty channels his inner rock and roller here, with a sly, playful tone. The fuzzed-out guitars buzz, and the whole thing feels like a dirty jam in the best possible way.
For fans of: Exile on Main St.-era Stones, The Black Keys, The Raconteurs.
Fun fact: With the departure of drummer Stan Lynch, Petty was eyeing a post-Nirvana Dave Grohl for the Heartbreakers’ next drummer. Grohl declined, choosing instead to start Foo Fighters, but he did sit in on this song during a legendary Saturday Night Live performance. Of the track, Grohl said: “It’s the kind of thing a bunch of 16-year-olds would play in the garage just to get off. It’s killer!”
8. Don’t Fade on Me
"I know you tried, but you can’t stop time..."
Acoustic guitars intertwine like threads in a tapestry, and Petty sounds almost pleading. There’s a vulnerability here that feels different from his other work—a sense of grasping for something slipping away.
Fun fact: Recorded in a single take, a spontaneous, late-night session that Petty later said “felt like the song was playing us.”
9. Hard On Me
"You’ve got to be hard on me, baby..."
A mid-tempo rocker with an edge. Petty sounds defiant, as if he’s pushing back against the weight of expectations and the passing of time.
Closest cousin: Echo—Petty’s 1999 album, soaked in heartbreak and resilience.
Listen for: The crackle of Steve Ferrone’s snare—tight, but never overbearing.
10. Cabin Down Below
"Come on go with me, babe, down to the cabin down below..."
A swampy, back-porch blues shuffle. Petty and the band sound loose, like they’re having a blast in the studio, and the whole track oozes charm.
Listen for: The subtle off-mic chatter at the end—proof that this was captured in the room, in the moment.
11. To Find a Friend
"In the middle of his life, he left his wife..."
Melancholy wrapped in gentle fingerpicking and harmonies. Petty sketches a scene of two lives drifting apart, and there’s a quiet, aching beauty in its simplicity.
Key quote: "I was writing what I was living."
12. A Higher Place
"We gotta get to a higher place..."
A bright, chiming melody buoyed by jangling guitars. It’s a song about hope, about striving for something better, even when it feels out of reach.
Closest cousin: 'Learning to Fly'
Fun fact: The song was inspired by Petty’s spiritual seeking at the time—he was reading books on Zen Buddhism and transcendence.
13. Crawling Back to You
"I’m so tired of being tired..."
The album’s emotional peak. Petty sounds haunted, confessing secrets in the dead of night. It’s a song that feels fragile, like it could crumble under the weight of its own sadness.
Listen for: The crack in Petty’s voice at 1:58—this is where the dam breaks.
14. Wake Up Time
"You wake up in the middle of the night..."
The final track, a slow, reflective closer that feels like the sun rising after a long, sleepless night. Petty seems at peace here, ready to face whatever comes next.
Key quote: "I’ve learned that the world doesn’t revolve around you. It just doesn’t."
For fans of: Van Morrison’s Into the Mystic, Neil Young’s Harvest Moon.
Fun fact: This was one of the earliest songs written for the album, but it always felt like the perfect ending—Petty called it “the sound of letting go.”
The Aftermath: Life Imitates Art
In many ways, Wildflowers was Tom Petty writing his own future in real time. The themes of loss, isolation, and self-reckoning were already blooming in the songs—but within a few years, they would fully take root in his life.
Two years after Wildflowers was released, Petty and his wife of over 20 years, Jane Benyo, filed for divorce. The split was a long time coming—strained by years of touring, the pressures of fame, and their growing dependence on drugs. Petty had always been the man in control, the one who kept the band together and the show on the road. But privately, he was slipping.
In the wake of the divorce, Petty spiralled into heroin addiction. It’s something he rarely spoke about publicly during his lifetime—another thing he kept hidden behind the Heartbreakers’ easy charm and laid-back image. But the darkness that crept into his music post-Wildflowers is undeniable.
His 1999 album Echo feels like the shadow twin of Wildflowers—where Wildflowers flirts with melancholy, Echo is drenched in it. Songs like ‘Room at the Top’, ‘This One’s for Me’, and ‘Swingin’’ are raw, exposed nerves. It’s almost as if Wildflowers cracked the dam, and Echo was the flood that followed.
But Petty wasn’t done. He got clean. He credited his then-girlfriend, later wife, Dana York, with helping him pull back from the brink. They married in 2001, and the years that followed saw Petty regain his footing, both personally and creatively. He never lost the reflective edge that Wildflowers gave him, but he found a way to balance it with a sense of resilience and, ultimately, peace.
The Ones That Got Away
For Wildflowers, Tom Petty wrote and recorded dozens of songs during the sessions, and the original plan was ambitious: a sprawling double album with 25 tracks. It was a bold vision—one that captured the breadth of Petty’s emotions, ideas, and creative outpouring at that pivotal time. But Warner Bros. Records executive Lenny Waronker felt the album was too long. He suggested trimming it down, arguing that the sheer volume could dilute its impact. Petty reluctantly agreed, paring Wildflowers down to a leaner 15 tracks.
Of the ten tracks left off, a few would eventually find their way into the world, often in unexpected forms.
'Leave Virginia Alone' became a hit single for Rod Stewart the following year, after Stewart recorded it for his 1995 album A Spanner in the Works.
Four other tracks—'California', 'Hope You Never', 'Hung Up and Overdue', and 'Climb That Hill'—resurfaced, in altered form, on Songs and Music from the Motion Picture She's the One, the Heartbreakers’ 1996 soundtrack album. Notably, 'Climb That Hill' was re-recorded entirely for the film, while the others were remixed or edited.
'Girl on LSD', an outtake that was too playful (and perhaps too risqué) for Wildflowers, was released as the B-side to first single 'You Don’t Know How It Feels' in 1994.
In 2018, 'Lonesome Dave', an outtake recorded in July 1993, was finally unearthed on the posthumous Petty box set An American Treasure.
And in 2021, a cover of J.J. Cale’s 'Thirteen Days', recorded during the Wildflowers sessions, found a home on Angel Dream, the reimagined version of the She’s the One soundtrack.
The 2020 Box Set: All the Rest
All ten of the original Wildflowers outtakes were finally released in their intended form on the 2020 box set Wildflowers & All the Rest—a long-awaited closing of the circle for fans and, of course, for Petty’s vision. These songs aren’t leftovers, they’re branches from the same tree, part of the same emotional landscape. Taken together, they show Wildflowers for what it truly is: a body of work too big for a single album to contain.
For years, Wildflowers carried a kind of mystery for fans. Rumours swirled about the “lost songs”—the tracks Petty recorded during those sprawling sessions but left off the album. Petty himself had talked about wanting Wildflowers to be a double album, but the label pushed back, and the extra material stayed in the vault.
When Wildflowers & All the Rest finally arrived in 2020, it was like opening a long-locked attic door. There were alternate takes, home demos, live recordings, and most importantly, the long-lost “other half” of the album. Songs like ‘Something Could Happen’, 'There Goes Angela (Dream Away)‘, Leave Virginia Alone’, and ‘Confusion Wheel’ offered a fuller picture of where Petty’s head and heart were at during that time.
For collectors, the Wildflowers & All the Rest box set is a treasure trove. There are deluxe editions with exclusive packaging, a super deluxe with a hardback book of photos and handwritten lyrics, and a limited-edition coloured vinyl pressing that became an instant grail. The original 1994 vinyl pressing of Wildflowers remains a holy grail in its own right—scarce, expensive, and highly sought after by fans and audiophiles alike.
But beyond the rarity, what All the Rest gave us was context. It showed that Wildflowers wasn’t just a moment—it was a whole season of Petty’s life. A time of change, of loss, of quiet revelation. A time when the songs didn’t just flow—they poured out of him.
Wildflowers as a Friend
Some albums are companions. They don’t just soundtrack your life; they sit with you. They’re there when you need a voice that understands, when the world feels too loud or too empty or too much. For many, Wildflowers is that album.
It’s not a record that demands your attention—it politely offers it. It’s there for the late-night drives, the quiet mornings, the times when you feel a little lost and need a guide who’s not offering easy answers, just honest ones. Petty wasn’t telling you everything would be fine—he was saying, “Yeah, it’s hard. But you’ll get through it.”
There’s a reason so many fans returned to Wildflowers after Petty’s passing in 2017. It wasn’t just nostalgia—it was because this album seems to listen back. It’s a friend who knows when to speak, when to sit in silence, and when to remind you that, you too, belong among the wildflowers.
It's a healing record. It’s a map for letting go, for accepting loss, and for learning to move forward, no matter how much it hurts. And sometimes, that’s exactly the record you need.
Letting Go
The magic of Wildflowers is that it holds both joy and sadness in the same hand. It’s an album about freedom—about the possibilities that open up when you loosen your grip on the things you’ve been clutching too tightly.
But letting go is never simple. It’s messy. It’s painful. It’s necessary.
Wildflowers is Petty’s quiet, unflinching meditation on that process. It’s a reminder that even as the world spins out of control, there’s still a place for you. A place where you can sit by the river, let the wind carry your burdens away, and maybe—just maybe—find your way back to yourself.
For me, Wildflowers has always been that place. It was there when I needed it as a kid, discovering Petty’s music beyond that Greatest Hits CD. It’s still there now, years later, offering comfort, perspective, and a quiet kind of grace. It is a gift.
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