Review
Bruce SpringsteenWorking On A Dream *** Columbia Bruce Springsteen had already recorded two songs with work in the titles and three songs with dream in the titles before he released "Working On A Dream" as the first single from Working On A Dream. You could say that, like very few rock stars, he's upheld a code of ideals throughout his career, one that hopes work will lead to the fulfillment of a dream, but recognizes how chance can ruin that glorious justice. Or you could say he's got a pretty limited imagination.
The end of the working day, the mark of Cain, to win, darling, we must pay - these phrases, variations on ones he's used previously, arise on his fifth studio album in seven years, until it seems his uncharacteristic prolific streak comes partly from lazy songwriting, maybe done with a set of Bruce Springsteen Lyric Magnets. Take "This Life" (please!): the rhymes are pat, flat, the melody as over-repeated as the basest Top 40 entry. "Queen Of The Supermarket" strains so hard to enshrine a homely grocery clerk that at the 3:00 mark, it accidentally turns into a Meatloaf song. Whether or not you think it's the worst song Springsteen has recorded depends on how willing you are to overrate "Gypsy Biker" or "Mary, Queen of Arkansas."
Most puzzling on this curious album is "Outlaw Pete," an 8-minute parable of western justice-is that Cormac McCarthy sitting on Bruce's bedside table?-that starts with a good joke, then lingers over one of the E Street Band's simplistic four-note riffs and a countermelody taken from Kiss' "I Was Made For Loving You," and crashes way before the modest payoff. Much of the joy here comes from admiring new E Street touches-Max Weinberg's cymbal work in "This Life," chirpy whistling in "Workin' On A Dream," a distorted Delta loop in "Good Eye," massed harmonies throughout-but Springsteen has never been an artist who specializes in subtlety.
His albums are always carefully plotted and sequenced, and this one gradually gives up its theme: dedication. The best songs are pledges in the style of 1960s rock, like the stompers on The River but at half the tempo, that draw from Springsteen's 18-year marriage to singer Patti Scialfa. ("Surprise Surprise" feels like it was written as a birthday ode to her.) Unlike a lot of singers, he doesn't lie about commitment or portray it as simple. In his code, a vow has to be renewed every day and every night. The song where Bruce and Patti are in bed counting their wrinkles and grey hairs hinges on another phrase he's used before: "Then prove it to me." Love, especially, requires-guess what—work.
Download "My Lucky Day," "What Love Can Do"
The end of the working day, the mark of Cain, to win, darling, we must pay - these phrases, variations on ones he's used previously, arise on his fifth studio album in seven years, until it seems his uncharacteristic prolific streak comes partly from lazy songwriting, maybe done with a set of Bruce Springsteen Lyric Magnets. Take "This Life" (please!): the rhymes are pat, flat, the melody as over-repeated as the basest Top 40 entry. "Queen Of The Supermarket" strains so hard to enshrine a homely grocery clerk that at the 3:00 mark, it accidentally turns into a Meatloaf song. Whether or not you think it's the worst song Springsteen has recorded depends on how willing you are to overrate "Gypsy Biker" or "Mary, Queen of Arkansas."
Most puzzling on this curious album is "Outlaw Pete," an 8-minute parable of western justice-is that Cormac McCarthy sitting on Bruce's bedside table?-that starts with a good joke, then lingers over one of the E Street Band's simplistic four-note riffs and a countermelody taken from Kiss' "I Was Made For Loving You," and crashes way before the modest payoff. Much of the joy here comes from admiring new E Street touches-Max Weinberg's cymbal work in "This Life," chirpy whistling in "Workin' On A Dream," a distorted Delta loop in "Good Eye," massed harmonies throughout-but Springsteen has never been an artist who specializes in subtlety.
His albums are always carefully plotted and sequenced, and this one gradually gives up its theme: dedication. The best songs are pledges in the style of 1960s rock, like the stompers on The River but at half the tempo, that draw from Springsteen's 18-year marriage to singer Patti Scialfa. ("Surprise Surprise" feels like it was written as a birthday ode to her.) Unlike a lot of singers, he doesn't lie about commitment or portray it as simple. In his code, a vow has to be renewed every day and every night. The song where Bruce and Patti are in bed counting their wrinkles and grey hairs hinges on another phrase he's used before: "Then prove it to me." Love, especially, requires-guess what—work.
Download "My Lucky Day," "What Love Can Do"
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