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Label: Columbia
Sound/Style: Thoughtful and slightly modernized roots-rock with ‘60s overtones
By Steve Morley
On his 1984 hit “Glory Days,” Bruce Springsteen sang about the peak moments of youth and of coming to terms with their rapid passing. Now, as a musical legend in his fifties, he could easily coast on former successes. He’s pulled the proverbial rabbit from the hat, though, on Magic, a sterling return to form that again summons his semi-retired E Street Band to his side. The album lurches into gear with “Radio Nowhere,” a commentary on assembly-line music and the prevailing disconnect in a society that once found common ground in rock and roll and the ideals it held in its best moments. (“This is Radio Nowhere/ Is there anybody alive out there?”)
Undaunted, Springsteen turns up the collar of his leather jacket against the increasingly cold culture he portrays, and rocks fiercely, though in a lower register and a more measured tone than in days of yore. His songs, thanks to the collective muscle flexed by his famous septet, echo the triumphant spirit of Springsteen’s late ‘70s work. But most are flecked with telltale signs of trouble in the wind. The themes of youthful escape once woven into reckless anthems like “Born to Run” have given way to observations of an America whose once distinct character is being weakened by internal pressures and external threats. In “Your Own Worst Enemy,” even the outside dangers have made it through the gate, leaving residents of Anytown U.S.A. to question the security they could once take for granted. (“Yesterday the people were at ease/ Baby slept in peace/ You closed your eyes and saw her/ You knew who you were/ And your own worst enemy has come to town/ Your own worst enemy has come…”)
He leaves the enemy unnamed, allowing room for the idea that it could be ourselves, and closes with the suggestion that there may be consequences to patriotism of the extreme and unexamined variety: Your flag it flew so high/ It drifted into the sky.”
Springsteen avoids one-dimensional messages, even on the album’s most overt anti-war lyrics. “Last to Die” borrows a quote from former U.S. presidential candidate John Kerry but sets it in relief against random scenes of American life, with war’s death toll a dimming concern to people caught up in their daily routines. (“The kids asleep in the backseat/ We're just countin' the miles you and me/ We don't measure the blood we've drawn anymore/ We just stack the bodies outside the door/ Who'll be the last to die for a mistake?/ The last to die for a mistake/ Whose blood will spill, whose heart will break/ Who'll be the last to die for a mistake?”)
More often, the symbols of eroding values are dropped between the lines, like the silent veteran’s hall and the boarded-up family diner depicted in “Long Walk Home,” which contains a poignant nod to the promise of small-town America circa 1960. (“My father said ‘Son, we're lucky in this town/ It's a beautiful place to be born/ It just wraps its arms around you/ Nobody crowds you and nobody goes it alone/ You know that flag flyin' over the courthouse/ Means certain things are set in stone/ Who we are, what we'll do and what we won't’/ It's gonna be a long walk home…")
The glory days haven’t yet ended for the Boss, but according to his latest report, they’re at risk of disappearing in the land of apple pie and baseball. On Magic, Springsteen entertains no illusions, calling the foul balls as he sees them while still putting his whole heart into the game.
Audio Clips
"Radio Nowhere"
"You'll Be Comin' Down"
"Livin' in the Future"
"Your Own Worst Enemy"
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