From sax solos to Weinberg’s walloping to those tinkling piano keys, they accomplish exactly what’s expected of them. The lyrics are often blindsided and buried away by the always-efficient E Street Band. If evidence is required: “Remember the morning we dug up your gun/ The worms in the barrel, the hangin’ sun.” And: “I’ll watch the bones in your back like the Stations of the Cross.” Then there are the mentions of snorting cocaine, insertions, and cinnamon skies turning candy-apple green. His images remain firm, ranging from raunchy to resplendent. We all need our breathers from Washington.Īs we take a breath, we can better appreciate the excellent lyrics Springsteen still crafts. Aside from a brief mention of waking up on an election day with ominous skies overhead, Magic is for the most part apolitical. (One still can’t escape Springsteen’s tendency towards la la la’s and na na na’s, though.) Springsteen also shows that, even in a post-9/11 world, you don’t have to be politically charged, that sometimes being charged through an unsafe outlet in a dingy garage is enough. Gratefully, it isn’t all anthems, with some innocent antics to balance the set. Magic is a sturdy, sure-footed Bruce Springsteen album. Magic? Really? You sure that isn’t some tentative inside-joke album title? Well, the album title - like a book cover - is not, and should not, be the basis for judgment. Another clue this album would clink down the cellar sink was its title: Magic. The man has had many missteps, and quite frankly, I feel he’s due for another one.Ĭoming off a string of formidable releases (2002’s The Rising was both comforting and cheeky 2005’s Devils & Dust was worthwhile enough for the sodomy and finger-licking goodness of “Reno” alone 2006’s We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions was what American musicians need always stay near to), I was poised for a Springsteen clunker, an album only the beckoners of BRUUUUCE! would hail as heaven in a Hackensack-made hand basket.
All this considered, I’m not so pompous to proclaim Springsteen’s entire catalog precious.
There are also music listeners who dismiss Springsteen’s body of work, all except for Nebraska, of course (because that one’s lo-fi and hip to listen to or at least own). Bruce Springsteen, believe it or not, functions within an artistic integrity that extends beyond state borders. As a citizen of the state, I cringe at the existence, and worse yet, the behavior of this jostling, fist-pumping, prideful bunch. There is a multitude of the New Jersey population who view Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi equally.
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