Experiments in Living --

* a defeat for a generation lost in a world with no taste

Bruce Springsteen: The Boss is Back

There’s always something vaguely comforting about the release of a new Bruce Springsteen album. Despite the fact that lyrically and thematically his subject matter rarely changes, generally always concerning his love-hate relationship with his homeland (an America that he typically views differently from that of much of his countrymen), the familiarity that accompanies each of Springsteen’s new works rarely leaves the listener dissatisfied. Perhaps it’s because he at times seems to stand as a pillar of stability amidst the constantly shifting musical, spiritual and political landscape of America. No wonder the Springsteen faithful know him as ‘The Boss;’ particularly within the world of popular music he is often a lone voice of sanity, crying out in mournful solitude for greater equality and justice within both his beloved America and the world at large.

His most recent album is no different, and maybe it’s because of that that Magic is superb. Recovering from the slightly turgid Devils & Dust (his previous album of original material, sadly lacking when compared to 2006’s brilliant We Shall Overcome: the Seeger Sessions), on his latest record Springsteen re-discovers how to write songs that are both anthemic and intimate in the melodies as well as the lyrical matter.

The opening track, ‘Radio Nowhere,’ whilst charged with the kind of power-to-glory sentiments reminiscent of ‘Born in the USA,’ has a chest-thumping feel which is deceptively bleak, hiding lyrical scars. In the chorus Springsteen addresses an America that appears to be morally dead, asking “Is there anybody alive out there?” In keeping with Born in the USA’s ill-fated title track, the singer comes across as being mired in his own disillusionment and spiritual isolation from America.

‘Livin’ in the Future’ is also misleadingly optimistic, but to a lesser degree. Although Springsteen’s description of how he “woke up on election day” with “shades of grey/beneath the dirty sun,” he also assures us that “we’re livin’ in the future/and none of this has happened yet.” Catchy and melodious, this is a big anthem which makes the heart sing, almost forcing you to feel Springsteen’s sense of pride in the everyday routines of American working-class life, despite its grime and drabness. Further flickers of hope start to appear as the album progresses. On ‘Girls In Their Summer Clothes,’ the grittier images are replaced with Springsteen singing with heart-warming nostalgia for a lost American idyll. In a glorious ballad awash with lyrical poetry, he describes how the “lovers they walk by.....the breeze crosses the porch/bicycle spokes spin round.” But cynicism quickly dissolves the nostalgia when he declares that “Tonight I’m gonna burn this town down.” The singer seems almost aware of his own vulnerability to being captured by the picturesque, but ultimately false, dream of perfection lying in the introverted nature of small-town America. However, the scene is still shot through with little glimpses of magic and redemption, epitomised by the sight of the “girls in their summer clothes/in the cool of the evening light.”

All summery images are soon lost after this however. The tone of the album darkens considerably on ‘Magic.’ Springsteen delves into familiar political territory when, in an angry rant against George W. Bush’s foreign policy, he warns the listener to “trust none of what you hear/less of what you see – this is what will be.” With his claim that “I’ve got shackles on my wrist,” there are echoes of the brutality of Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib, whilst he also bemoans the loss of civil liberties in the name of the so-called ‘War on Terror’ that have been brought about due to the complacency of the populations of the West, reminding us of “the freedom that you sold/drifting like a ghost among the trees.” The spectre of Billy Holiday’s ‘Strange Fruit’ also lingers in the references to the horrors of America’s past, when he describes the “bodies hanging in the trees." Lost in the dark underbelly of the American dream, for a moment the listener wanders if Springsteen will ever emerge. But all is redeemed in the final track, ‘Terry’s Song,’ a touching, Dylan-esque folk hymn extolling the virtues of human qualities and the healing power of music, as opposed to the materialism and cynicism explored in the previous songs. In a return to non-monetary values, Springsteen sings, assumingly to the ‘Terry’ of the title, that the “Taj Mahal and the pyramids of Egypt are unique I suppose/but when they built you brother, they broke the mould.” Springsteen seems here to be almost reassuring the listener that despite the poison inherent in the world, redemption can be found in people, not things. He claims that “Love is a power greater than death/just like the songs and stories told. Attitudes are a power stronger than death/either burning or stone-cold.” We should be thankful, he seems to be saying; a change of attitude is all that is needed to mend our broken world.

And never forget that love can conquer all. Go, and sin no more. Magic does contain forgettable moments, such as the song ‘I’ll Work For Your Love.’ The Christian imagery in the lyrics - “I watched the bones in your back like the stations of the cross” - is disappointingly vague when compared to the brooding contentment inherent in ‘Jesus Was An Only Son,’ Devils & Dust’s standalone moment.

‘Gypsy Biker’ also appears as being a little too close to ‘Born To Run’ for this listener’s liking, with the claim that “Mama’s pulled the sheets up off your bed” serving as an unconvincing attempt to portray the adolescent longing to cast off convention and domestic repression – desires that you can’t help thinking Springsteen has become a little too old to be feeling. One can’t help thinking that this is particularly so when listening to an album that consists, essentially, of re-trodden content. But despite this, Magic is still probably Springsteen’s finest record since The Rising; and by the time you reach the end, you feel certain that it is indeed because of the continuous returns to familiar Springsteen territory. On his latest album, he continues to lead us on journeys through a flawed America, yet one that in many ways still doesn’t lack beauty; he warns us that sin, corruption and temptation are always just around the corner; and despite the misery of the world, he reminds us that there exists small glimpses of beauty within something as light as a human heartbeat or the twang of a guitar string. One of the few remaining musical consciences of the West, Springsteen remains a house built on a rock. That’s what he’s always been; and yet right now, perhaps that’s exactly what we need.

Contributed by Maddy Fry