I can tell you specifically why I’ve never really gotten into Springsteen, nor Dylan, nor Van Morrison, nor countless other artists. It’s because a lot of the work by these artists sublimates the music to the vocalist/lyricist. In other words, it’s poetry of varying quality set to music, not music with a singer accompanying it. Come to think of it, even all the hip hop I like starts with the groove too.
Put it this way — my favo(u)rite Springsteen song — by a long, long way — is “Blinded By The Light” . . . Manfred Mann’s version. Why? Because the musical twist is absolute genius and filled with hooks, while the nonsense lyrics are secondary.
That said, I have an incredible amount of respect for Springsteen as an artist and wouldn’t ever gainsay anyone who loved him (nor would I those who love Dylan). Four hour shows, very little pretension, honesty and work ethic all go a long way for me. The variety of styles and tempos and the full-fledged celebration of multi-cultural NYC and its surrounds on display here really are remarkable, whatever I think of the individual tunes. As a Yank, I feel it a responsibility to point out that Bruce is about as “heartland” as the fucking Talking Heads — only if you live on 82nd and Park in a $15M co-op is New Jersey the “heartland”, whatever you think of “The River”, “Nebraska” or his good-hearted embracing of Americana.
It’s no secret Rosalita is the gem here, and a lot of this record is Bruce finding his feet. But the pictures he paints are wide-ranging. His sonic choices seem to come from twisting a radio dial up and down on a hot summer Sunday morning. I hear a LOT of Steely Dan here (on Kitty’s Back especially, which I’ve heard before) but much of this appears a unique pastiche — almost a scrapbook. I know Sandy too, but I’d never heard the opener before which I really enjoyed. As such, the first three had me wondering if everyone had underrated this in the Springsteenian panoply — it’s almost a joyful romp.
Unfortunately it is almost utterly ruined by Circus Story. I hated this song. HATED it. The lugubrious tempo (hey, just a thought: maybe there’s a reason pop musicians don’t use tubas), the inane meandering observational lyrics about midgets and ringmasters in the fake southern accent. God dammit.
Anyhow, thankfully, Incident brings back the casual rollicking Bruce (love the bridge with the piano and the organ — “Tell me what’s your naaammmee?”) with Rosalita — truly a brilliant song (I’d forgotten how much I LOVE the lyrics) — to follow. I’m not sure another Springsteen song — even Born to Run — has the sheer energy of this tune. It’s just so galvanizing and all over the place. Just superb. Serenade isn’t an especially moving nor joyful closer — maybe Bruce was out of breath after Rosalita — nor are the observations that keen — I do love his continual nickname references to Spanish Johnny and their ilk, and it’s missing those.
Of seven songs I’d say there are five I really enjoy — one terrific one and four quite good ones — then one okay, and one awful. I think I’d call this about a 7/10 going on the math(s), not an 8. I’d happily hear it again (skipping Circus) if someone suggested it. I liked it a bit more than I expected. And I have a little deeper understanding of the obsession so many have of him, even if I don’t share it.
And remember — “I ain’t here on business baby, I’m only here for fun.”