Bruce Springsteen Wins on Devils and Dust
Woody Guthrie, Hank Williams and other dust-covered folkies loom in the background of Bruce Springsteen’s 13th studio album, a spare, scuffed up jewel entitled Devils & Dust.
Despite having God on his side, Springsteen wonders on the opener, “What if what you do to survive kills the things you love?” The man is living proof that riches and fame don’t ever ease the ache inside.
He’s back from the Olympian grandeur of the recent E Street Band reunion tour, ready to tell tales of people “whose souls are in danger or risk”.
Describing himself in the documentary on the DVD side of this Dual Disc release as a “guy with an acoustic guitar”, Bruce probes further
into his favorite subjects – hearts and tired bones and the black bag of memories we drag behind us.
He cautions in the introduction to a series of sparkling solo acoustic performances of these new songs, “You have to constantly be writing from your own inner core in some fashion I find. The central core of who you are has to be in place in every song or that song dies.”
Others have cited Nebraska as a touchstone for his latest but this is far less of a spiritual wasteland. Hope now sneaks in on stocking feet and the blood & tears are wiped away by hands that care.
Sonically, this is closest to his Limbo soundtrack contribution “Lift Me Up” or Tunnel Of Love stripped of ornamentation. Well, not all
ornamentation . . .
Devils & Dust suffers from mushy production reminiscent of mid-’80s Dire Straits that insists on filling up all 64 digital tracks when a microphone and a guitar are all you need.
The omnipresent Fairlight synthesizer breaths like a mechanical lung behind material that would have been bettered served by a less-is-more philosophy, something made obvious by the acoustic versions on the DVD.
What redeems the misguided production is the most rock solid set of tunes Springsteen’s produced since the late ’80s.
Less artificial or self-important than The Ghost of Tom Joad, it contains workingman’s prayers like “Long Time Comin'” and “All The Way Home.”
“Jesus Was An Only Son” is as profound as anything U2 ever recorded though I think Bruce was trying for Dylan, whose freewheeling spirit he captures better on “The Hitter.”
Spots evoke Cat Stevens’ gentle understanding while others, especially the gentle gospel backline lifting his flawed but sweet falsetto, suggest he’s been listening to the Staple Singers.
Even if this falls short of masterpiece status it’s still a damn fine record. The “Boss” continues to inspires good will and makes us pull
for him despite being a little underwhelmed.
His best work is likely decades behind him but there’s ample life still flowing in his veins, which he opens up for us on his latest journey out of darkness.
