Love Is Strange / Stay — a spirited glimpse of youth, friendship, and the magic of music shared onstage
There is a rare kind of joy that rises the moment Jackson Browne and David Lindley launch into their live medley “Love Is Strange / Stay.” It’s the sound of two artists so deeply in sync that the music seems to smile. Recorded during Browne’s legendary early-80s tour and released on the live album Running on Empty, the medley quickly became one of the most beloved moments in his catalog. When it was issued as a single in 1978, it climbed into the Top 20 of the Billboard Hot 100, peaking impressively at No. 20, a remarkable achievement for a live track woven from older songs.
From the very first notes, you can hear why it resonated so strongly. There is a playful looseness, a sense that the stage itself has turned into a living room where friends gather to remember old tunes, tease one another, and let the night run warm and unhurried. Browne provides the steady rhythm — reflective, grounded, full of that familiar California warmth — while David Lindley, ever the musical shapeshifter, steps into the spotlight with a voice that soars, jokes, pleads, and charms in equal measure. Their chemistry is effortless, the kind that only grows after years on the road, where songs become stories and stories become part of the band’s shared heartbeat.
The medley itself blends two classics: “Love Is Strange,” first made famous by Mickey & Sylvia, and “Stay,” originally by Maurice Williams & the Zodiacs. But in Browne and Lindley’s hands, they become something entirely new — a theatrical, humorous, deeply human exchange. Lindley’s falsetto plea of “Won’t you stay… just a little bit longer?” is half-joke, half-truth, and Browne answers like a weary friend who has heard the request a thousand times but still loves him for asking.
For listeners who were there when the album came out — or who later discovered the performance on late-night radio — the track carries a sense of community, a memory of nights when concerts felt like conversations, and music wasn’t consumed but shared. You can almost see the audience grinning, swaying, clapping along; for a few minutes, everyone in the room becomes part of the band’s inside joke, part of their long-running friendship.
Behind that playful veneer, however, lies something more enduring: a snapshot of two musicians at their creative peak, bound by respect and affection. Browne, the introspective songwriter whose lyrics often ache with meaning, lets the light in here — lets the music be fun, loose, spontaneous. And Lindley, whose mastery of strings and unmistakable voice had colored Browne’s sound for years, shines with a warmth that feels like watching an old friend tell his favorite story. Their collaboration, then and always, was more than musical; it was emotional, a kind of chosen brotherhood.
Why does this medley still feel so alive? Perhaps because it captures that fleeting feeling we all know: the wish that a beautiful moment might last just a little longer. The wish that the night won’t end. The wish that someone dear might stay — if only for one more chorus, one more joke, one more song.
“Love Is Strange / Stay” is more than a live performance. It is a celebration of companionship, of shared history, of the small joys that keep us young no matter how many years have passed. Listening today, one can almost feel time folding back — the stage lights glowing, the audience cheering, Browne smiling shyly, Lindley laughing into the microphone.