Bruce Springsteen is not cool. Odds are, one or both of your parents probably adore him, occasionally dusting off an old LP copy of “Born to Run” to wax nostalgically about their wayward youth. Couple that with all the droopingly reverent press he gets about being the last great American rock star, and it’s almost enough to make you miss the fact that Bruce Springsteen makes astonishingly good music.
You know the caricature: sweat-drenched, headband-clad, fist in the air, hoarsely crowing something about how damn great it is to be born in the U.S.A. You may even know the lyrical hook; guy and girl climb in car, escape small town, have idealism crushed, seek redemption. American flags, working class posturing, saxophones, “Glory Days”. True to a point, they’re still only the fragmentary reflections of a truly great American songwriter and performer.
There’s so much a Springsteen record collection can offer beyond the percussive synth riff of “Dancing in the Dark”. There’s the rolling, Van Morrison-tinged street funk of “The E Street Shuffle,” the operatic three-chord panorama of “Jungleland,” the goofy frat-rock of “Sherry Darling,” the lonesome howl of “Atlantic City”…to pigeonhole Bruce Springsteen is to ignore the kaleidoscopic range he’s demonstrated over three decades in an industry that rarely carries one beyond their first single.
There’s also that intoxicating aura of authenticity about him. It’s tough to explain to those who grew up with rock stars cloaked in irony and self-loathing. Bruce doesn’t license his songs for commercials, he plays until you’re exhausted, he shills endlessly for community charities, he shows up at local diners…..there’s so little pretension about him that it’s often startling. As Bono once said of Bruce, “Credibility you couldn’t have more, unless you were dead.”
To cut through the hype is to discover someone who sings because he believes that it still matters. In soft mid-strum or one of his dissonant guitar freakouts, Bruce unerringly communicates a sense of place and purpose. His fans love Jersey because he loves Jersey. When you give “Darkness on the Edge of Town” a spin, you’re not just hearing a ramshackle collection of riffs and bridges, but the sound of someone trying to remind you he’s alive.
And, of course, there are the men and women of the mighty E Street Band. Now nine strong, they’re a walking microcosm of the Springsteen universe, his wife and best friend among them. Flanking him on stage each night is the very kind of community that Springsteen spent so many years searching for in song.
Maybe he is the last great American rock star. It probably doesn’t matter. His music is worth a listen, even if it’s not cool. Because, chances are, neither are you.
[Where to start? With one of these: 1973’s “The Wild, The Innocent and the E Street Shuffle,” 1975’s “Born to Run,” or 1984’s “Born in the U.S.A.”]
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