Album Reflection and Review
3-Stars
By Anthony Kuzminski
-“Radio Nowhere”
The art form that is the album is one I revere infinitely. Sure, I hold dear the exhilarating singles that lighten my day and make dozen of playlists on my iPod, but the album…that is something mysterious and miraculous. Ever since Dylan and the Beatles started creating collections of songs with scope, the album and not individual songs have resided closest to our hearts. Few artists utilize these long form creations with as much care and attention as Bruce Springsteen. Over his entire storied career, there are usually themes, arcs and characters that flesh out over the course of the entire album. “Thunder Road” and “Jungleland” are immeasurable songs on their own, but hearing them open and close an album, well, they become something far more than mere songs. Individual songs from Nebraska are great but mean less without being aware of the context of the other nine songs. Then there’s “Wreck on the Highway”, which by itself is a downer of a song, but when its heard as the 20th track from The River, it’s a wake-up call that holds more weight as the end of a story rather than a stand alone track. Even the heavy handed nature of The Rising and The Ghost of Tom Joad are better experienced as complete albums rather than cherry picking certain songs from it. While individual songs may streamline the listening experience, it doesn’t give the listener a widescreen view. Bruce Springsteen’s albums at their best are cinematic events whose plot and cohesiveness are held together by the strength of the songs on the record. However, there is a downfall to having an album where weighty themes hurt the overall impact an album have, which is why I have had such a hard time accepting Magic, released in the fall of 2007, as a classic Springsteen album.
Upon its release, it was heralded as a masterpiece about the bewilderment of the human soul. Critics, fans and many of my dear friends all hailed it as Springsteen’s finest record since The River. Upon my first dozen listens, I wondered what I was missing. After seeing a half dozen live shows and another two dozen listens, the album finally began to grow on me. I warrant repeat listens for certain artists, among them Wilco. Jeff Tweedy’s charm is best personified by multiple listens, but I’ve always felt that Springsteen is an artist that should grab from at the jugular right from the get go. That didn’t happen on Magic. I have come to the conclusion my initial reaction was wrong, but that doesn’t mean that I still don’t have issues with the record which I feel is awash in paranoia to the point of exasperation.
Let’s start from the bottom and work our way to the top. Most great albums have one or two songs that people could live without. Even the nine-track Thriller could have possibly lost “The Lady in My Life”. The listener can do one of two things; they can accept the limitations of that one song and let the immensity of the rest of the songs carry the record, or they can let those one or two songs drag all the other down. On Magic, I let my hatred of two songs almost ruin the album for me. The nostalgic throwback “Livin’ In The Future” drowns in its own wistfulness. Cut with a classic E Street echo, the song proved to be too much of a hint from the past for me to enjoy. As I re-listened to it for this review, I found the song to be not as deathly as I initially thought, but I still feel a tedious nature to the song I can never get past. While Springsteen doesn’t deal with the events of a post 9/11 world as specifically as he did on The Rising, I feel that the overall tone of dread, even amidst the jubilant E Street sound, to be too much for me. Even worse is the abhorrent, “Your Own Worst Enemy”, sung in a dreary monotone delivery, I rank it as the single worse track in all of Springsteen’s cannon of songs. To write an entire song about an Orwellian government where our freedoms disappear looks good on paper, but the end result feels, cold, jilted and distant, almost as if he can’t feel his own lyrics or what they mean. While listening to this record, I felt a tinge of self-righteousness seep through because ultimately I found its theme, delivery and performance to be misguided and smug.
When Springsteen created his masterworks from 1975 through 1987 he sung from what appeared to be a vivid first-person experience. He was revered because of his authentic voice. After the critical slamming Human Touch and Lucky Town took in 1992, I felt that Springsteen lost that voice. He may have lost it after Born in the U.S.A. for all I know. It’s unlikely someone who never has to worry about money again could ever retreat to the same frame of mind that they did when they were under pressure. I guess that is where I find Magic has its faults. Instead of a first person narrative, I feel the album’s voice comes from a distant third-person perspective. Even though Springsteen didn’t go to Vietnam, he knew people who did, he felt the effects of that war which is what make songs like “Born in the U.S.A” and “Shut Out The Light” so remarkable. Whereas while I am sure he was disenchanted in the direction of America during this time, I feel as if he experiences all of this from a distant distorted reality. I believe Springsteen is a genuine and candid human being, but when was the last time he had my worries?
Despite my reservations of the isolated themes on Magic I have come to enjoy a lot of the record immensely, even if it is a bit faulted. Disillusioned with the state of affairs of the US, Springsteen turned inward and created his most sonically appealing album in over two decades. Brendan O’Brien returns for another trip behind the boards adding his own touches and updating the classic E Street sound. However, faith has been erased and a once limitless vista that has turned into an empty wasteland of not just darkness but total despair. A dark cloud, ready to pour down in torrential downpour, lingers over the whole record lyrically.
“Radio Nowhere” angrily commences the festivities with a biting performance that erupts out of the speakers where he is “searchin’ for a world with some soul”. What could be dismissed as power-pop song is so much more. The character isn’t just seeking a better tomorrow, but they severely doubt that there is anyone out there who understands them, especially when he questions “Is there anybody alive out there”? “You’ll Be Coming Down” truly could have been a Born in the U.S.A. outtake. A finger-pointing rocker with bite, it’s directed from a scorned heart, “You'll be fine long as your pretty face holds out”. Instead of wallowing in their own grief, they rebound with cynical expression where they find comfort in karma. “Gypsy Biker” finds a group of friends coming to terms with the loss of a friend who returned from war in a box. Featuring a pair blistering solos by Steve Van Zandt and Springsteen, the song echoes what the band brings to the stage when they perform live. I felt a distance from this song originally but changed my mind as seeing the song in concert which proved to be downright explosive and when the band reached its finale, their hands were dirty amidst a field of smoke as the emotions poured over on this one. “I’ll Work For Your Love” harkens back to The River with a wonderfully pining piano intro that feels like a storybook romance. The band embellishes the whole pop spectrum here as the yearning narrator proclaims an edict of devotion. “Girls In Their Summer Clothes” {Official Video Link} oozes with studio wizardry. A favorite of many fans, I never could get my head around the cold production values. It should be noted, I believe I am the only person on the planet who doesn’t think this is an instant classic. The layered, almost orchestral, production leaves me cold and is clearly a product of Brendan O’Brien’s production.
“Magic” is about illusions and deceit. What dragged “Your Own Worse Enemy” down was its in-your-face finger pointing whereas here he’s a magician at the peak of his poetic powers. The understated delivery makes you play close attention to the lyrics, which beautifully weave a moral tale. The subtle flourishes on this song make me love it; Van Zandt’s mysterious mandolin, Tyrell’s that fills in colors and the rhythm section of drummer Max Weinberg and bassist Garry Tallent that deliver their most hushed performances of the record, but the way the rhythm slowly builds is downright beguiling. “Last To Die” features the E Street Band at their most piercing with Tyrell’s violin providing the melody amidst a searing chorus. “Long Walk Home”, the album’s most exultant track {Video Link}, showcases the same father from “My Hometown” as he points out the security and freedoms of their home amidst turbulence. It’s a metaphor for our world as a whole. Sometimes Springsteen’s tumultuous nature gets the best of him (as head on “Future” and “Enemy”), but on “Long Walk Home”, he soars. Questioning values that have been crushed in recent times, he reminds his son that we all still stand to make our own choices and decisions, “That flag flying over the courthouse, means certain things are set in stone, who we are, what we'll do and what we won't." “Long Walk Home” better exemplifies deceptions and lost dreams better than half of the songs on Magic. Sometimes one song can provide a more potent and longer lasting effect. One well written songs infused with top-tier quality will always win out over sheer quantity. The album’s esoteric finale, the evocative “Devil’s Arcade”, twists and turns into a typhoon of emotions into a fraught and dazzling climax amidst a thunderous wall of echo and messianic drums that eventually fade to black leaving you speechless and pondering “where do we go from here?
As time has passed, I have delved into this album deeper and as the world crumbles around us, there is more on Magic than meets the eye and the album houses several transient moments. It’s not a perfect album and that’s OK. I believe it would have been better suited with a less concentrated approach. The themes of disillusionment wouldn’t feel as heavy handed with the inclusion of a few carefree rockers. Regardless, Springsteen has enough face cards in his hand to win us over. A deeper look at the lyrics reveals a unique collection of songs where the characters of Magic don’t just find themselves at a crossroads or even at the end of the line. Sometimes it’s not the harsh realities of life that prove to be the scary, but rather the unknown. These characters question how they came to be in their current state. Instead of optimism, downright despair and yearning, Magic is infused of characters who ask the terrifying question, “Where did it all go wrong and where do we go from here?”
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network and his daily writings can be read at The Screen Door and can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com.
