Wrecking Ball - Bruce Springsteen

Noteworthy

The Boss returns for the first time since the passing of saxophone colossus Clarence Clemons, and he turns his attention to the rather conflicted stance concerning where the country is headed.

Springsteen's newest album is a tale of two halves: one of indignation and one of cautious anticipation. As quickly he yells, "If I had me a gun / I'd find the bastards and shoot 'em on site," he then turns to sing, "Let your mind rest easy, sleep well my friends / It's only our bodies that betray us in the end." Much like in the Biblical sense, Springsteen embodies both the mentality of the Zealot and the Essene — the angry revolutionary and the stolid transcendentalist — at different times as the listener plays this effort through.

Springsteen's complexity in songwriting and his understanding of where songs fit allows him to keep reverential nicknames like "America's Shakespeare" even at the ripe old age of 65. However, despite its dynamics, this album will not rank among Bruce's masterpieces like Born to Run, Darkness on the Edge of Town or Nebraska. Musically, there is too much of a sense of longing and distraction. While fans cannot continue to carry the grief of losing the Big Man, it is noticeable that Springsteen's heartland rock swerves too close to country, with too many fiddles like those on "Easy Money" and not enough of longtime keyboardist Roy Bittan's comforting piano that has become synonymous with the E-Street sound.

This is not a knock against country music; however, when it comes from Springsteen, something seems amiss. Although he's shown to be a great folk musician, there was always something grounding him to his own style when he moved into that genre. While Clemons's absence forces Springsteen to automatically lose the saxophone synonymous to urban Jersey, this move to country is a misstep.

There is still a lot of enjoy on Wrecking Ball. The title track is a vintage Springsteen ode to the Old Meadowland Stadium that arouses nostalgia to the artist of yesteryear and to beloved memories of places long gone. "We Take Care of Our Own," the single, starts the diatribe in the Boss's most ironic song since "Born in the USA" echoing the sentiments of the boondocks' blue-collars and the ghosts of Katrina with the only reply coming in the form of a deliciously sarcastic refrain. "Land of Hope and Dreams" is also a track of note. While it appears at first rather unremarkable musically by forcibly combining the grittiness of folk with the fire of gospel, the fact that it was recorded in 1999 allows us one last solo from Big Clarence, the presence that gave the E-Street Band's Americana the distinct flair only a jazz musician can provide.

While one can easily pinpoint the bleak conflict and careful salvation common in Springsteen's emotional lyrics, what holds this album back are the high-flown experiments throughout the melodies. Down-home protest songs like "Shackled and Drawn" and almost-Irish bar shanties like "American Land" make us wonder where the the one born in Stratford-upon-Asbury wandered off to. As Springsteen wants to give voice to the oppressed, it would appear he lets them all speak at once: the Southerner in the shotgun shack, the entitled who have lost their way, the new arrivals at Ellis Island, those left behind in a New Orleans flood. These voices, however, are not the same. Allowing them to sing out at the same time leaves the listener little time to process their fears and hopes as time goes on.

For Your Consideration: "We Take Care of Our Own," "Wrecking Ball," "Land of Hope and Dreams."

For Next Time: Nothing on the horizon.