Songs like ‘Easy Money‘, taking a highly satisfying swing at the bankers of Wall Street, certainly feel like the kind of music Guthrie might make if he were alive today. This whole shaking, rattling Irish wake of a record is about life on the poverty line, laying down simple melodies written expressly for a stadium of voices to sing along to. Springsteen knows, and has always known, that he doesn’t have a job without that stadium of voices, and he takes every opportunity he can to give something back to those voices.
This has been called his angriest album yet. Perhaps it’s because the focus on suffering and salvation is sharper, keener, more immediate. No need for stripped-down production gimmicks or a full-blown reinvention of the wheel. Springsteen is bigger than ever before, and so is his band. Banjos, mandolins, mandolas, sousaphones, accordions, bassoons, euphoniums, lap steel guitars and every kind of brass a man can hold up to his lips are on this record, and when they’re making such a glorious racket as this, you can’t help but welcome and warm to every man jack of them.
Springsteen has made tentative footsteps toward folk before; ‘Nebraska‘ was nothing but the man and his guitar and a town full of desperate strangers. ‘The Seeger Sessions‘ saw him take on ‘Jesse James‘ and ‘We Shall Overcome‘, songs that shaped and matured a nation of immigrants and pioneers. He runs with that very theme here, celebrating the communities that drew together to build a better place to live. So it is that ‘Shackled and Drawn‘ stomps and rolls along like a lumber-yard work song; even the penny whistles and thunderclap bass drum of ‘Death To My Hometown‘ might just as well sound out on the picket line as on the stage.
You can spot some definite fan-favourites-to-be in ‘We Take Care Of Our Own‘ and ‘Wrecking Ball‘. The latter has already proven itself as part of the ‘Working on a Dream’ tour; finally laid down on tape, that killer arrangement sees that we feel every earth-shattering slam of every crashing chord. It’ll certainly guarantee that the fans know every word spoken in anger by the time the E Street Band roll into their town.
It’s easy to hurl superlatives at an established act like this, but the effect of ‘Wrecking Ball’ as a whole simply cannot be underestimated. Especially since we have such a hard time getting America’s brand of patriotism over here in the UK. Maybe we’ll wear a Union Jack bowler hat and wave a little flag as we watch the Queen wave a limp wrist at us from a carriage, but in general, it’s a calm, reserved sort of love for our country.
It may be that this record is the closest we’ll ever get to understanding a nation who look at their flag with their hand on their heart and feel genuinely proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with their fellow Americans.
It’s this spirit of unity that defines ‘We Are Alive‘, making a mad dash for the finish with every indication that this band could play another twenty songs just as tight and tense, happy to sweat for music they believe in. Springsteen chronicles the horror, the sorrow and the salvation of the dead and it all stills feels strangely uplifting. Bonus tracks ‘Swallowed Up‘ and ‘American Land‘ tread more or less the same ground, but a listener will find himself only too ready to wander out onto the dancefloor once more.
Yes, ‘Wrecking Ball’ is missing something. It’s missing more of the Big Man. He solos on the title track and the momentous ‘Land of Hope and Dreams‘, but then again, there’s a strong case that this is all for him anyway. The triumph of this record is its fierce, uncompromising approach – the ultimate tribute to Clarence Clemons, the man too big to die.
This album and every other note that ever issued from that sax is his lasting legacy to music. A note from his best friend (you know who) at the back of the lyric sheet says it best: “Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street band when he dies. He leaves when we die.”
Bruce Springsteen isn’t here to wallow in misery. He’s angry, so very very angry, but he channels that anger into something immense and beautiful; something to lift the heart and bring you out in goosepimples. He’s using the words that don’t come so easily to the depressed and the downtrodden. Bring on your wrecking ball. Take your best shot, let’s see what you got.
He’s daring us to stand up and fight. Damned if we don’t feel like we can win with him on our side.
(Simon Moore)
