For a musician who has come to be identified with all-American rock-and-roll, Bruce Springsteenโs songs emanate from a very specific, very private imagination. From his early stories of Asbury Park rabble-rousers and the hardships of The River to his mid-ย80s divorce album (Tunnel of Love) to his Grapes of Wrath-inspired The Ghost of Tom Joad, he sings about subjects and characters that fascinate and obsess him but on a scale that belies his celebrity. As a result, even when his songs arenยt about him ย when theyยre about laid-off factory workers or Mexican immigrants ย theyยre still about him.
That is why 2002ยs The Rising was such a disappointment: Springsteen tried to speak not for himself but for an entire nation still nursing its post-9/11 wounds and looking desperately for a rock-and-roll album on a par with Born To Run or Born in the U.S.A. Such an admirable undertaking produced an awkwardly public album, the scope of which dulled his empathy for his subjects despite the immediacy of that national tragedy.
Fortunately, the Bossยs 11th album, Devils & Dust, sounds personal again ย weirdly, defiantly, eccentrically, indulgently personal. Whereas The Rising chronicled the resilience of common Americans, Devils & Dust charts the current political and cultural landscape during an administration that Springsteen publicly opposes. In doing so, he has made an album that sounds bleak and hopeful in equal measure, evoking an America made dangerous by the powers-that-be but inhabited by individuals strong enough to survive. Devils & Dust sounds like a reaction to The Rising, made by an artist whoยs no longer sure he wants to represent his country.
A grave acoustic ballad with arena-ready gimmicks courtesy of producer Brendan OยBrien, the title track name-drops Dylan and sets the stage with the bleak Dustbowl imagery of ยa field of blood and stone.ย That imagery reappears briefly at the end of ยBlack Cowboys,ย which is one of several slow, quiet songs that recall the hushed tone and the short-story scale of 1995ยs The Ghost of Tom Joad. ยSilver Palominoย and ยThe Hitterย tell long stories full of hard times, but only the album closer, ยMatamoros Banks,ย manages to rise above monotony.
Itยs the sex that has people talking about Devils & Dust, although it shouldnยt be a surprise. Springsteenยs music has always had a lusty quality. Listen to ยRed-Headed Woman,ย his early-ย90s ode to oral sex and possibly wife Patti Scialfa (ยYour lifeยs been wasted/Til youยve got down on your knees and tasted/A red-headed womanย), or ยLetยs Be Friends (Skin to Skin),ย from The Rising, which is as close to Marvin Gaye as the Boss gets. For the narrators of ยLong Time Cominยย and ยMariaยs Bed,ย sex can be redemptive and celebratory, a respite from everyday oppressions ย ยItยs me and you, Rosie, cracklinย like crossed wires,ย he sings on ยLong Time Cominย.ย
But ยReno,ย the song that got Devils & Dust banned from Starbucks, gives a franker, more dire depiction of sex. The narrator describes a tryst with a prostitute, comparing her to a lost wife or lover. ยShe took off her bra and panties, wet her finger,ย he sings, ยslipped inside her, and crawled over me on the bed.ย The contrast between the workmanlike sex and the wistful memories (ยSunlight on the Amatitlan, sunlight streaming thru your hairย) creates a far grittier account of longing than anything on The Rising, but Springsteenยs descriptions, while purposely unerotic, seem tedious and mechanical. Until the understated, yet devastating, ending, his lyrics and vocals are as businesslike as the charactersย hotel-room transaction. That may be the point, but it doesnยt redeem the song or the characters.
A gutsy album, Devils & Dust definitely tests the goodwill Springsteen enjoyed with The Rising, which garnered his highest sales and was pronounced a classic even before its release. Itยs a minor step up, but it still sounds particularly weak, partly due to OยBrienยs slick production, which, without the E Street Band to contend with, threatens to burnish away all of Springsteenยs eccentricities.