Bruce Springsteen is one happy guy. And why shouldn’t he be? He rocked the SuperBowl, penned a Grammy-nominated movie song, and performed for the nation on the eve of Obama’s inauguration.
His campaign song, “Working on a Dream,” caught on, and he sang at several key Obama rallies. He’s said that he feels the return of the America he’s always believed in.
And on this big-release studio album, currently riding the crest of the wave at #1 on the charts, is about as cheery as he’s likely to get. It’s even titled after that Obama-fest song – and why not? Gone here is the melancholy anguish of his working class roots, or his compassion for the rescue workers of 9/11, or even the underdogs like Amadou Diallo. But now, well, I guess “we” finally won.
His sound remains big, brassy, and optimistic. Musically, he’s generous, retrieving some riffs from some of the American rock canon: you’ll hear hints of the Beach Boys on “What Love Can Do” and Credence Clearwater Revival on “This Life” before he launches into his trademark big-band sound.
But, I’ve always thought that what makes Springsteen embody that working class sensibility is the trade off between two irreconcilable forces: lyrics of the downtrodden — those trapped and pained by their working class despair, who can only dream of getting out, and being born to run and a large, anthemic, almost mystically grand sound, filled with hope and glory.
That dichotomy is captured, most notably, on the iconic “Born in the U.S.A.,” whose sound is so anthemic that Ronald Reagan wanted to use it as a theme song (he didn’t listen to the lyrics of a guy in utter despair because of Reagan’s policies). Or “The Promised Land” – driving, cascading sound carrying lyrics of near-suicidal rage and anguish.
Not here, alas. Happiness has often, for Springsteen, thinned out his music — those two forces don’t crash into each other here. More often they blend, which is nice, I suppose, if you’re mixing a smoothie, but not if you’re the Boss. The production is a bit to big, almost bloated. And the songs are less compelling because there is less of Bruce in them.
And that benighted working class? No longer lost and anguished, now one character is “the queen of the supermarket.” Sorry, Boss, but great rock ‘n’ roll doesn’t happen when you’re pining for the cashier at the Stop and Shop. Unless, it’s unrequited. And when you’re Bruce Springsteen, no love is unrequited anymore.
