Bruce Springsteen - Magic

Two years shy of 60, the voice of several generations

An articulate chronicler of the American condition in general throughout his lengthy career, Springsteen now finds himself, for the third time since the turn of the century, reacting to specific events troubling the nation’s psyche. The Rising, from 2002, was an intelligent and uplifting response to a country shocked and bewildered by 9/11, while 2005’s Devils & Dust caught The Boss in reflective mood after the disappointment of Dubya’s election to a second term, the singer’s own activism on the campaign trail seemingly having made small difference. Magic, in turn, boasts numerous songs which directly address the war in Iraq or, more accurately, the fallout for the folks back home. But though lyrically the record may be unavoidably and unashamedly couched in the here-and-now, its music revisits touchstones from Bruce’s history, due in no small part to his reconvening with The E Street Band for the first time in five years, and three-and-a-half decades since they initially busted out of New Jersey. Like most of Springsteen’s best work, the album sneaks up on the listener after repeated plays, the songs growing in stature as they become more familiar. The two tracks which may, given time, emerge as Magic’s pivotal moments recall bygone glories but, subject-wise, could have been lifted straight from last night’s local news bulletins. Gypsy Biker eavesdrops on a community preparing for the return of one of its own in a body bag, the brave boy’s clothes and other belongings packed up and given to the neighbourhood charity stores. However, his friends and contemporaries, those who weren’t flown overseas to a war they’ve never fully understood, pay their own tribute by sprucing up the young man’s beloved motorcycle and torching it on the outskirts of town. Devil’s Arcade also touches upon the senseless nature of the conflict, while saluting the unfortunate souls who risk their lives at the whim of their elders’ political machinations. An understated string motif cradles a scenario of wounded soldiers literally and figuratively putting themselves back together in a veterans’ hospital ward: “The cool desert morning, then nothing to save/Just metal and plastic where your body caved.” There’s a preoccupation with death liberally sprinkled throughout the record, from the opening Radio Nowhere and its chorus cries of “Is there anybody alive out there?” to the sinister-sounding title track’s list of conjurer’s tricks ultimately ending with the image of “bodies hangin’ in the trees”. Even The Long Walk Home, previewed during the Pete Seeger Sessions live shows last year, is a funereal lament to a once thriving burg after its major industries have relocated. While Magic may be mournful, it’s rarely maudlin. Livin’ In The Future is vintage, anthemic Bruce; an uptempo return to the finger-clicking pop-minded soul that permeated through 1980’s The River. Similarly, I’ll Work For Your Love, with its chiming Roy Bittan piano and blue-collar declarations of the heart (sung, almost inevitably, to a downtrodden waitress) sees our middle-aged hero effortlessly recapturing the naive enthusiasm of Rosalita, or the yearning for a better life of Thunder Road. Any artist who’s spent as long in the saddle as Springsteen might be expected to suffer, forgiven even, lapses in energy, opting to follow the lazy road. But at 58 his mind is as sharp as ever, his songs are as vital as at any point in his past, and his ethics, morals and ability to care unquestioned. It’s both refreshing and reassuring that he continues to pull something special out of the hat.

Columbia | 88697170602

Reviewed by Terry Staunton
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