least and most

Least and Most: Inyo

/ Tony / Leave a comment

Much like The Ghost of Tom Joad, Inyo is the album from Tracks II: The Lost Albums that, while I liked well enough first, has grown in my estimation with each listen revealing more.

Its similarity to …Joad in that respect shouldn’t be much of a surprise as this continues where that album left off. Glancing back The Bruce Springsteen Timeline, Inyo‘s seat in 1997 puts it a couple of years down the line from that album and a year or two ahead of the reunion tour and 2002’s The Rising. Previously that seven year gap between studio albums felt like a gulf – as though, following the ‘Shut the Fuck Up Tour’ that followed ...Joad, Springsteen looked back with the release of Tracks in ’98 and the eventual reunion the E Street Band rather than creating new material.

However, we know that Bruce seems to have had at least four things on the boil at once in those days. With the ’90s proving just as prolific in terms of writing (if not releases), while touring …Joad across 18 months, Springsteen kept writing with many more songs written in hotel rooms after shows. While we got some of those songs on 2005’s Devils & Dust, it’s on Inyo that these are finally presented as a piece – albeit with the later additions of ‘Adelita’ and ‘The Last Charro’ date from 2010 and the initial accumulation of work for the Western Stars project. This does present an interesting crux – Springsteen’s singing voice and production style of the mid-to-late ’90s was very different to that of the Western Stars era and running material from that era through the Ron Aniello filter / processing creates an odd effect that means quieter songs from the original ‘batch’ like ‘One False Move’ have a very different sound and listening experience to the ‘newer’ material enough to feel like two distinctly different sessions rather than one complete set.

This sits one of the stronger parts of Springsteen’s California Cycle – those early ’90s albums reek of L.A over-production but as he travelled around – on motorbike, in car or tourbus – and became infatuated with Californian culture and its history you feel the search for voices that represent all sides and from both sides of the border.

This, to me, is a fascinating period of Springsteen’s career, this exploration of different themes and voices as he continued his own search for his ‘solo’ voice, a stretch of his career where the music narrowed in sound but widened in scope — fewer characters chasing escape, more people simply trying to endure. Like Joad, then, the songs on Inyo are mostly acoustic and restrained, built around his voice and guitar, but there’s a subtle expansion in texture that sets it apart and adds a delicious flavour. Mariachi-influenced horns, accordion, and violin drift in and out, not as novelty or genre exercise that had overwhelmed Somewhere North of Nashville and will eventually become the focus rather than the songs on later albums, but as atmosphere — a way of grounding these stories in a specific cultural and physical landscape. The arrangements remain sparse, almost severe at times, but they’re carefully shaded, giving the songs a cinematic sense of place without ever tipping into overstatement.

Least: Indian Town

This isn’t necessarily a bad song, there aren’t any on here for me. More that ‘Indian Town’ doesn’t stand out or add as much as the other songs. It feels very much of a piece with Joad and even Nebraska‘s songs and gets a little lost in the memory after listening to the album.

Most: Ciudad Juarez

There are a number of songs on Inyo that could sit as ‘Most’, for me, the closing trilogy in particular is one of the strongest in Springsteen’s catalogue. However, “Ciudad Juarez” is the song on Inyo that completely levels you. It’s a haunting, politically charged ballad, that’s told with such stark clarity that you can hear every word with a directness that makes it so heartbreaking. Springsteen places us in the shoes of a grieving father whose daughter vanishes in the border city, offering no closure, only loss. It’s one of the saddest songs he’s ever recorded, stripped of sentimentality and all the more devastating for it.

The song sits in familiar Nebraska/Ghost of Tom Joad territory but with a distinct, mournful arrangement, punctuated by two tragic trumpet solos that hover like funeral hymns. Beneath Bruce’s restrained delivery is a quiet, seething indictment of the violence and systems that enable it: drugs flowing north, guns flowing south, blood left behind. It’s heartbreaking, enraged, and deeply empathetic—arguably one of Springsteen’s finest and most politically pointed songs and is one of many on this album that make you wonder how the hell it sat in the vaults for so long.

Least and Most: Somewhere North of Nashville

/ Tony / 1 Comment

Quick side note: I’m addressing these in their presumed chronological order were they to have been released as the albums they’ve been grouped as rather their ordering in the box.

Aside from being a fascinating look at Springsteen’s working process, Tracks II: The Lost Albums provides an insight into his archival management too. Somewhere North of Nashville is a prime example of both: work on the project that became Western Stars actually began in 2010. That places its genesis between Working on a Dream – his last album with Brendan O’Brien – and Wrecking Ball – his first with Ron Aniello. It’s also the period of time when he was rooting around in his vaults for The Promise and the archival box-set release of Darkness…

Given that theWestern Stars project didn’t reach full fruition until 2019 – the process for which we’ll get to in a few albums time – it’s indicative of how many different projects Bruce had (and, seemingly, has) on the go at anyone time. At the start of that project, in 2010, Springsteen told Aniello “come out here, we have plenty of material to work with” and handed over “a country record [that] was basically cut with musicians in LA – live with a tight band – in the 1990s.”

Quite a find I’d guess…. ish. If we go back again to the Bruce Springsteen Timeline and move the dial back to 1995 we’ll find a pretty busy period. Having popped his ‘loops’ album on the shelf, completed the Greatest Hits material and accompanying promotion, Bruce decided to leave the band to it once again and make a ‘country’ record. With two different recording setups in place and a backing band that included a couple of E Streeters, he’d work on the livelier stuff in the afternoon and save the more sombre material for the evening. The story goes that the Boss was originally making one album before the narrative voice and style of the Ghost of Tom Joad material became the more cohesive of the projects and while the ‘other’ material remained a good way to get the band warmed up, it remained in the vault instead.

All we had, until now, was a smattering of track names that were known to have been recorded at the time like ‘Tiger Rose’ and ‘Poor Side of Town’ that were presumed in the same mould as the ..Joad material. Turns out, they’re very much not. Somewhere North of Nashville wasn’t a complete album. It couldn’t have been, really, given that …Joad soon took other focus. Instead, as part of the archival process, Bruce and Aniello recruited the same players that featured on the original material – including Marty Rifkin on pedal steel guitar (if you’re ever wondering ‘how much pedal steel guitar is too much pedal steel guitar?’ this album has your answer) – and added some songs to the mix that matched the initial clutch. Songs such as ‘You’re Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone’ and ‘Somewhere North of Nashville’ (which would be revisited and retooled again for Western Stars) are among the ‘new’ songs.

This isn’t one of the strongest albums in the set. In fact, there’s a lot of material here that could, really should, have stayed in the vaults and nobody would have minded. While it certainly fleshes out the picture of Springsteen’s output during that era and, again, gives a revealing look at his working process, this isn’t a ‘holy crap, Ghost of Tom Joad should’ve been a double album’ revelation. I don’t have to wrack my mind to chose a weak moment here, I’m afraid….

Least: Detail Man

I could’ve gone with any of the three ‘man’ songs on this set to be honest but ‘Delivery Man’ is perhaps the most redundant thematically and, as the third of the set the prospect of an over-active pedal-steel accompanied “baby I’m a double glazing selling man” or “here comes a British Gas boiler repair man baby” arrives there’s no denying the skip button comes in to play. At least ‘Delivery Man’ is funny.

The other element here is that this plays to the weakest link on the album: a few too many of these songs lean into a very particular style of ‘country tonk’ that would sound more at home soundtracking a film with Clint Eastwood and an orang-utan than they do on an album made in 1995.

But….. but, but but. This is still a Bruce Springsteen album and – as I’ve often pointed out – some of his finest songwriting occurred during this decade so beyond the dross, there’s some real gold here and – once you get past the aforementioned ‘country tonk’ – there’s the inescapable sound of a strong, tight band letting rip. You can practically picture Bruce pulling out his notebook of songs and counting them off as they tear into great versions of older material like ‘Janey Don’t You Lose Heart’ or ‘Stand On It’ (the former working beautifully) and the exquisite ‘Under A Big Sky’ which, though dating back to the ’80s as a song, is wonderful highlight.

Having initially binged through Tracks II: The Lost Albums like an addictive Netflix series, I’ve since been spending more time with them on an album by album basis and letting each one breath in its own right and asking myself ‘would I still want to buy this one if it was a stand-alone release?’

Obviously, while that’s usually a given with Bruce I’ve become a bit more selective of late, which is probably why his soul karaoke album still isn’t on my shelves. The quality of his songwriting is usually enough of a reason to pay the price of admission – even if that price is this much pedal steel guitar – and the ’90s were still fertile ground.

Having initially binged through Tracks II: The Lost Albums like an addictive Netflix series, I’ve since been spending more time with them on an album by album basis and letting each one breath in its own right and asking myself ‘would I still want to buy this one if it was a stand-alone release?’

Obviously, while that’s usually a given with Bruce I’ve become a bit more selective of late, which is probably why his soul karaoke album still isn’t on my shelves. The quality of his songwriting is usually enough of a reason to pay the price of admission – even if that price is this much pedal steel guitar – and the ’90s were still fertile ground. When he’s not rhyming ‘Tiger Rose’ with ‘Joe Blows’ some of his lyrics on here are on a par with his stronger material.

Most: Silver Mountain

As with any archival release there’s often a track that begs the ‘how was this shelved?’ On Somewhere North of Nashville that track is ‘Silver Mountain.’ It’s pure gold. It’s catchier than anything resigned to the vault has business being, it’s infectious – of all the album’s songs it’s this one that I find myself singing days after hearing – and the combination of joyous, foot-stomping energy in performance with tragic narrative of forbidden love places it more in line with a rootsy Americana than the cringe-and-pedal-steel of, say ‘Poor Side of Town.’

Least and Most: Streets of Philadelphia Sessions

/ Tony / 2 Comments

If LA Garage Sessions ’83 was the collection of songs I was most familiar with ahead of Tracks II: The Lost Albums‘ release, then Streets of Philadelphia Sessions was the one I was most looking forward to. Despite there being three albums from the ’90s in the set, this was the most infamous of his ‘lost’ albums and one that had been referenced variously over the years as either his ‘loops’ or ‘hip-hop’ album as all that was known was that it utilised the same drum-machine and loop approach as his ’94 single ‘Streets of Philadelphia’ but that, due to it being ‘another relationship album,’ was benched.

Going back a way – and as previously quoted on one of my former Springsteen posts – Bruce said of it: “there’s a record that we recorded, mixed and didn’t put out. Bob Clearmountain mixed it, spent a lot of time on it… didn’t put it out. That was, like, ’94. And it still intrigues me. I still go back to it. There are still things on it that I really like, and I may go back to sort of say, ‘Okay, well, why…?’ Sometimes it’s timing, you know. There was a particular reason that I didn’t put out that group of music. Sometimes the timing just doesn’t feel right for that kind of record.”

So why wasn’t the timing right? It was 1994 and if we look once again at the original Bruce Springsteen Timeline it’s an otherwise blank space between his tour to promote Human Touch and Lucky Town with ‘the other band’ and the year before the mini E Street Band reunion for Greatest Hits. The ’90s are often considered a fallow period for Bruce, but this box set has at least upheld my long-held belief that his output remained strong but his continual-second guessing after the relative mauling of the aforementioned double-header of ’92 albums meant we missed out on a lot. And miss out we certainly did for Streets of Philadelphia Sessions is the strongest set of songs he put together that entire decade.

‘Streets of Philadelphia’ was recorded by Bruce alone, using a drum machine and synths. While he bought in other musicians to round it out, he stuck with the ‘demo’ version for release. The success of that song – both critically and commercially – as well as the process, must have unlocked something as he decided to cut a whole album using the same approach. The ‘loops’ disc that Springsteen had been given to use only appears on a couple of the tracks, the rest are spare, bruising and subdued synth-lead pieces but often shot through with piercing guitar work and a number of songs on which a small band was bought in to round out the sound. The album was completed, mixed and was ear-marked for release early the next year (1995) and then, Bruce hesitated. Was it Roy Bittan suggesting that a fourth relationship-focused album would be one too many for his audience that triggered the hold? Was it Springsteen unsure of such a diversion from his established sound? Was it the record label pointing out a ‘Hits’ album was expected? Given that Bruce is now in the habit of ret-conning events to fit a certain PR-Friendly version of history, we’ll never really know. We do know that we almost got it during his residency on Broadway – perhaps he was tired of having such a considered ‘blank’ in his story for the ’90s that he wanted to set the record straight – and that this is only one of two albums in the set that Ron Aniello was forbidden from tinkering with. For which we can all be grateful.

This, for me, is the Springsteen album I’d been waiting for. The over-produced element that plagued Human Touch and Lucky Town is entirely absent, there’s a maturity and confidence in his restraint that means no feel or sound is overdone and nothing overshadows the lyrical content and, perhaps for the only time on a Springsteen record, there’s no feeling that there’s a ‘this the radio hit!’ moment. In fact, in between taking credit for ending the Cold War, Apartheid, world hunger and averting World War 3, Steven Van Zandt points out in his autobiography that it was this lack of an obvious ‘hit’ that lead to Springsteen canning it and reverting to his ‘Nebraska persona.’ Either way, Streets of Philadelphia sessions is a gorgeously produced and crafted set of songs that take the narrative and themes Tunnel of Love ushered in and adds a level of lived-in authenticity that works wonderfully with the singing voice he found in his forties.

If there were someway to have this on wax without plumping down the £300 (ish) needed for the box this wouldn’t have left my turntable this year. As it is, the mp3 versions have barely left my stereo.

Least: The Little Things

You know that mp3 version of the album I have? This isn’t on it. While there’s no ‘that’s the hit!’ moment on Streets of Philadelphia Sessions, this is the dud. While the remainder of this album’s songs feel true, this feels flippant, out of synch with the remainder and unnecessary (almost like the odd tangent of ‘Reno’ on Devils and Dust).

Most: Something In The Well

I could very easily have gone for many another track here. ‘One Beautiful Morning,’ ‘Between Heaven and Earth’ or ‘Waiting On The End Of The World’ are clear highlights but ‘Something In The Well’ is one of those songs that sits amongst his best work and points and future material too. Springsteen’s fights with the black dog are now well-documented but I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a struggle ever put so compellingly into song before that has made me go ‘holy fuck, that’s it’ – what I’ve often referred to as a ‘deep hole in a field,’ Springsteen casts as a well. Like so many other moments across this album, the instrumentation is minimal but not sparse and wholly effective. There’s also an element to the sound – if you strip it back to his guitar and vocal delivery – that’s at one with that which he’d flick back to in the following year for The Ghost of Tom Joad.

What makes Springsteen, when he’s on form like this, great as a song writer is his ability to look within, find what’s inside him and us, and turn it into something we can, and want, to listen to and ‘Something In The Well’ is another strong example of just that.

Least and Most: LA Garage Sessions ’83

/ Tony / 6 Comments

Just when I thought I was out…

In a very selfish and inconsiderate manner, Bruce Springsteen decided to wait until I’d finished my Least and Most series on his work to announce the release of Tracks II: The Lost Albums containing SEVEN entire albums pulled from the vaults.

Except… that’s not entirely true. Of the seven albums one is a mass collection of demos, one an actual album that was ready for release and then shelved, a soundtrack album that never went further than recording, a couple of ’90s album projects that got rounded out by songs added during the ‘boxset’ project, the remainder of a glut of songs recorded while finding the voice / angle for Western Stars and a disc of holdover ‘rock’ songs. However, as these have been packaged, labelled up and marked as albums proper, the Boss has forced my hand here.

There’s a lot of music here. An embarrassment of riches for Springsteen fans. Almost too much to be consumed and considered in one go. Whereas Tracks was pared down from six, to five and eventually a four-disc, 69-song offering, the aforementioned seven albums here (the disc number varying according to format) offer up 83 songs of varying vintage and quality. This being Springsteen, aside from a couple of howlers, the quality here barely drops below solid, often hits dizzyingly high levels and frequently contains moments that make you wonder how they stayed gathering dust for this long. While the marketing around the release contained the suggestion that each of these finds Springsteen playing in genres and sounds unexpected, the truth is that’s only so much hype: taken in context with where these sit chronologically in his ‘canon’ catalogue, they make not only make perfect sense but provide a fascinating insight into his working process.

So, that’s the intro outta the way. Let’s get into it…

LA Garage Sessions ’83

Of the lot, this was the album I was most familiar with ahead of release. I’d mumbled before about the bootleg of a lot of these songs and where they fall in the great Bruce Springsteen Timeline. However, as a quick recap: with most of the songs for Born In The USA written and recorded by mid ’82, the group of songs from his original working tape that he was least happy with the band versions of, was released ‘as is’ as Nebraska. While fully committed to the material and the voice, I think it’s fair to say the positive critical reception to these caused Springsteen to pause for a moment on the big rock record that was in progress. It probably didn’t help that he and Steven Van Zandt had fallen out over creative input and the latter had left the E Street Band.

Holing up in his LA home and thinking a closer-in-approach to Nebraska tact would be the logical next step without dealing with the hassles of band relationships, Springsteen put down another huge draft of material that – having been circulated for years – is now with on LA Garage Sessions ’83.

These are a fascinating and mostly brilliant group of songs. There’s a clear difference between the aesthetic of Nebraska while the song writing matter remains closer to that and his former work than the more direct Born In The USA material, it’s undoubtedly the bridge the between the two sides as well as a massive informer of his work beyond his stadium-ready record. Most importantly, the rounded out sound here shows him taking more confident swings to creating a distinct ‘solo’ Springsteen sound.

While the repetitiveness of the overall disc – there are 18 songs here and three of them start with that ‘Sir, I am a pilgrim and a stranger in this land’ line- the frequent excessive use of reverb and occasionally clumsy synth – means that it’s not going to be a perfect ‘album’ or even lost classic, it is one of the best in this collection and essential listening for a Springsteen fan as a set of what-ifs and roads not taken. For while the production and sound gets gnawing, the songs here are, frankly, fucking excellent and there’s very little to mark out song wise as ‘meh’ or ‘least’.

But, that being whole point of this series…

Least: My Hometown

Ugh… I know! But hear me out: it would be unfair to say ‘this version isn’t as good as it is on Born In The USA‘ because these are obviously demos and would suffer in comparison. But it’s presented here as part of this project and that’s what I’m marking against. It’s just that, for me, the delivery of this song kills it. This is a mature subject matter and yet he delivers it in a weird horse-whisperer rasp that’s not present elsewhere. Again, though, still a bloody solid song.

Most: Unsatisfied Heart

This is actually a pretty tough call. Taking the songs on an individual basis there’s so fucking much gold here. ‘Shut Out The Light,’ for example, has always been one of his best. The provocative ‘Klansman’ is a slice of fried gold, ‘Richfield Whistle’ has long been a favourite character study, ‘One Love’ is a fucking belter and many of these tunes could have been a standout if revisited later in his career instead of left behind as Springsteen continued his perpetual forward motion. ‘Unsatisfied Heart,’ though, is a real stand out for me. It’s as complete as it gets – it’s staggering that while some of the songs from this session were short-listed for inclusion on various Born In The USA iterations, this was never among them. Another of his great character studies of a man whose past catches up to him, ‘Unsatisfied Heart’ straps a killer chorus to the ‘Sir I’m a pilgrim’… line in a song that explores the overall theme of the ‘album’ and gives it a full and glorious melody that, while not given a nod on Bruce’s immediate next, definitely feels like a nod both in substance and vibe on Tunnel of Love.

Least and Most: Letter to You

/ Tony / 20 Comments

Here we are at the end of the road with Springsteen’s final studio album.

At least, for now. Within a few days we’ll have seven previously unreleased studio albums to absorb and while Tracks isn’t included in this rundown, the albums that make up Tracks II: The Lost Albums are just that, full studio albums. There’s also confirmation that, along with Tracks III (ffs, that vault must have been huge) Bruce also has a new solo studio album ‘in the can’ earmarked for a 2026 release. It’s like he doesn’t read this blog with the amount of work he’s lining up for me.*

Where was I? Oh, yes, for now. Letter To You was an album that came by relative surprise in its timing mid pandemic (he’d managed get the band together for a week at the end of the previous year**) and in its absolute quality and power. Letter to You feels like a much-needed warm hug from an old friend you didn’t expect to see again —if that friend was a thunderous barroom preacher with a worn leather jacket, a telecaster slung over his back and a saxophone-wielding mate waiting in the car.

If this turns out to be the last E Street Band powered album, it’s one hell of a bow out; it’s a combination of everything that was and still is great about it with relatively minimal production or overdub. Springsteen calls back to his past magnificently – the record bristles with revisited old chestnuts like ‘Janey Needs a Shooter’, the mildly Dylan-esque ‘Song for Orphans’, and the swaggering ‘If I Was the Priest’ rubbing shoulders with new tracks like ‘Burnin’ Train’ and ‘Last Man Standing’ that bring the E Street Band’s stadium roar back in full force. While at times there’s an odd juxtaposition between songs written by Thesaurus Bruce and One-Phrase-Repeated-Over-and-Over Bruce, the combination is a winner. It’s like we’ve run into him at a bar and he just had to tell us one last story (or twelve).

Where this sits in the overall Springsteen album run-down I’ve yet to figure out but Letter To You is certainly his strongest and most consistently spot-on since Magic. That it’s the first time since The River that the band worked through songs without having had them demoed first is also clear – there’s a sense of spontaneity and freshness in the arrangements that hasn’t been heard in decades. There’s very little to nitpick about in Letter To You but…

Least: The Power of Prayer

While ‘Rainmaker’ hasn’t aged as well as it could have and ‘House of a Thousand Guitars’ is a little let down by the repetition of its title, ‘The Power of Prayer’ is absolutely the weakest link on an otherwise indecently strong album. Feeling more like it would be at home on Working on a Dream, Springsteen’s gospel inclinations here come off less like a heartfelt epiphany and more like a cliche-laden preacher hitting the stage unprepared. It’s an empty-cliche-ridden snoozer for me, it aims high and wants to hit that uplifting spiritual power of earlier efforts but leans on formula instead rather than feeling. I mean – when was the last time you ran your fingers through the hair of your significant other and thought ‘that’s the power of prayer’***? It may well be sincere but so is a 99p greeting card from Sainsbury’s.

Most: Ghosts

Hands down the album’s finest, Ghosts charges in on a revved-up E Street engine and never lets off. It’s a swirling elegy for lost bandmates and the magic they created together but manages to balance that sense of nostalgia with catharsis. Time passes and moves even for our heroes. You feel old, you feel alive but, for these glorious five and a half minutes you feel together with Bruce and the E Street Band.

What makes ‘Ghosts’ – and the best of this album – work so well in 2020 and 2025 is the sense that these songs didn’t spend too much time in gestation. There’s no feeling of over-working or heavy production. Bruce isn’t trying to venture into a different sonic direction here. He doesn’t need to reinvent the wheel, just crank up the Chevy and happily barrel down memory lane.

Letter to You is the grown-up version of Born to Run, with a few hands dragging in sentimental baggage. It’s occasionally corny, but mostly full-blooded and triumphant. And when ‘Ghosts’ kicks in, you remember why you climbed in the passenger seat in the first place: for the ride, for the stories, and for the shared scars of friendship and loss. Life ain’t always a beauty but, hey, it’s alright.

*Of course he does.

** Two thoughts – chronologically this places those sessions in the same year as the final Western Stars sessions as well as those for Twilight Hours on Tracks II. Secondly: these songs were written following a bout of writers’ block and after the death of his friend and on an acoustic guitar given to him by a fan after one of his “Springsteen on Broadway” shows. That’s one hell of a burst of creativity.

***as a Humanist the answer is ‘never.’

Least and Most: Western Stars

/ Tony / 7 Comments

Ok…. let’s get back into it. Western Stars is still the odd one in the Springsteen back catalogue – while it may well be that some of the albums on Tracks II: The Lost Albums will fill in some of the steps that Bruce to get here, it sits apart at the moment; neither the acoustic, bare-bones approach of his other ‘solo’ albums or as ‘rock’ as his other work with full bands. Much like We Shall Overcome.. this is vey much a one-off detour*.

Where this album sits in my own ranking of Springsteen’s albums will vary depending on the mood I’m in: with the passing of time this album’s single-sonic style has meant that it’s not one I reach for typically and if you’re not up for that sound, it’s a skip as very little on here that varies from the ‘Bruce goes big, full-orchestra Glen Campbell / Burt Bacharach / Jimmy Webb’. At times the stylistic choice with its over-emphasis on twang and orchestral pop feels forced (much like a lot that Ron Aniello ‘brings’ to Springsteen’s music of late) and weighs downs songs that, in another setting, might have bounced freer without the need to add them on.

There are, however, a bevvy of solid Springsteen songs on Western Stars that are not only strong enough to withstand the production treatment but flourish in their arrangements and Bruce’s sonic departure. ‘Sleepy Joe’s Cafe’, for example, wouldn’t work in any other context yet here is a great addition. Songs like ‘Western Stars,’ ‘Chasin’ Wild Horses,’ ‘Hello Sunshine’, ‘There Goes My Miracle’ and closing ‘Moonlight Motel’ feel like Springsteen had got a very good core of songs for this project.

Sadly, like a lot of his later-career albums at this point, there weren’t quite enough and so we get some reheated tunes – we know now that ‘Somewhere North of Nashville’ has been repurposed from a mid-’90s project – and heavy production to polish up the lesser tracks.

Take, for example:

Least: Hitch Hikin’

Given that some of Bruce’s previous album openers have been real strong jump-off points (think ‘Radio Nowhere’, ‘We Take Care of Our Own’ for recent examples or ‘The Ghost of Tom Joad’ or ‘Thunder Road’ or fucking ‘Born in the USA’), Western Stars gets off to a sluggish limp with a song that could’ve been fine were it not for the hammy production and slopping on of backing and orchestration that does nothing for it.

Most: Drive Fast (The Stuntman)

‘Drive Fast (The Stuntman)’ fits very firmly in the list of great Springsteen songs that work well in this album’s context and would actually work well elsewhere – here the orchestra joins and swells as Springsteen’s character piece – an injured stuntman recalling his glory days – unfolds, elsewhere it could just as easily be a Nils Lofgren slide. While this character – like so many on Western Stars – is past his best, Springsteen gives them a beautiful treatment.

*excluding the ‘film’ version of the same album that followed a few months later and stapled on a cover of fucking ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’.

Least and Most: High Hopes

/ Tony / 7 Comments

Reviewing High Hopes as a studio album feels unfair, but as Springsteen insisted on referring to this reheated plate of leftovers as just that – so be it.

Arriving in the resurgence that followed Wrecking Ball and its tour, High Hopes is Springsteen’s most scattershot album to date, there’s no narrative, no theme, no intent other than putting out an album that’s made up of covers, out-takes and re-imagined versions of songs from various points of Springsteen’s then-recent recording past. Songs like ‘High Hopes’, ‘The Ghost of Tom Joad, and ‘American Skin (41 Shots)’ had been recorded (much better) and released previously while tracks such as ‘Heaven’s Wall’, ‘Down in the Hole’ and ‘Hunter of Invisible Game’ were outtakes from somewhere between ’02 and ’08 while ‘Harry’s Place’ was an outtake from The Rising. As Tom Morello sat in with the E Street Band during the Wrecking Ball Tour to replace Van Zandt (who was spending time in Lillyhammer), he’s also all over this album in, unfortunately, negative ways. Aniello’s production values on top of songs that Springsteen had previously thought not good enough for release isn’t a winning combination and while there are a few solid cuts it’s mostly ‘meh’ (or ‘bof’ as the French would say). Perhaps Bruce knew it was gonna be a while before we got another new album from him and wanted to get some product on the shelves ahead of another tour. They can’t all be The Darkness on the Edge of Town after all.

‘Hunter of Invisible Game’ sums it all up for me. This is a song that’s got a good idea, it’s got pretty decent melody and Springsteen and Co thought so much of it that they even had Thom Zimny create a ten minute short film around it. But, like the album as a whole, the thought is there, the motions seem right but there’s no substance to it. The song doesn’t actually say anything and I still scratch my head as to what this fucking invisible game is that Bruce is hunting – is it relevance in the modern musical world? Is that why he’s wearing a Canadian tuxedo on the cover? It feels like he came up with what is, frankly, a fucking great title, but it ran out of legs. Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad we get to hear it but that’s as far as it goes.

Still, that’s one of the better tunes…

Least: Heavens Wall

Wasn’t there anything else in the vault? ‘Raise your hand’ gets repeated thirty six times. Springsteen sings like he’s scrolling through Deliveroo trying to chose dinner at the same time.

Most: The Wall

Hello? (Hello, hello, hello) Is there anybody in there? Oh, no; not that Wall. This ‘The Wall’ was written in 1998 – thanks to an idea from Joe Grushecky – after Springsteen visited the Vietnam Memorial and memories of New Jersey musicians, including Walter Cichon, from Bruce’s youth who never returned from the war. While Springsteen having another great Vietnam song this late in his career wasn’t on anyone’s bingo card, The Wall’ is one of his most personal and affecting and – with the bitingly bitter “I read Robert McNamara says he’s sorry” – is one of his finest songs. It’s all the more baffling that it’s ended up on an album with so muck cack.

Least and Most: Wrecking Ball

/ Tony / 3 Comments

It must have been a strange time for the man they call The Boss as 2012’s Wrecking Ball arrived. Entering into his fifth decade of releasing albums, two members of his E Street Band having passed, his albums still hitting the top spot on release but quickly dropping out of view of the charts. Meanwhile he’s a very wealthy man while so many of his fans are facing the brunt of the then-economical issues America was facing. Some, if not all, of these themes are tackled on Wrecking Ball which marked a departure from Brendan O’Brien and the start of his work with Ron Aniello.

Since the comeback of The Rising, each of Springsteen’s albums had something to say about the times in which they were released. From that album’s 911 backdrop came the war-protesting Devils and Dust, Magic‘s swipe at Bush and even … The Seeger Session‘s choice of protest songs was clearly pointed while Working On A Dream seemed a celebration of Obama’s arrival. Wrecking Ball adds the plight of the downtrodden into the mix and seems to aim for a sound that touches on each previous but falls a little short and seems to have forgotten the sense of fun that had been present on so many of his previous albums and replaced it with too many songs where it feels that the words took more focus than the tune and Aniello’s stapled-on effects take the place of a full-band sound; Wrecking Ball contains contributions from several E Street Band members (notable absences include Nils Lofgren, Garry Tallent and Roy Bittan) on a couple of tracks but with most instruments handled by Springsteen, Aniello and various session players.

It’s not a bad Bruce album, though. The songwriting is stronger than Working On A Dream, there’s more consistently good songs and the mix of performers – putting this somewhere between a ‘solo’ album and his ‘other band’ albums of the early ’90s in that respect – works well. There’s a lot to enjoy despite a few howlers, and listening back to it for this I’ve enjoyed it more than previously. Of course, I’ve still go no time for..

Least: Easy Money

Here I could go for the neutering and mangling of ‘Land of Hope and Dreams.’I could swing for the dour trod of ‘Jack of All Trades’. But, ‘Easy Money’…. it just feels so false. It’s an example of Aniello’s production choices that feel tacked-on and, despite the summon-the-masses, foot stomp approach of the song it’s too bloody slight in its substance. There are some heavy handed takes in the first verse but the most frequent lyric in this, literally, ‘(Na-na-na-na-na) Whoa! Whoa! (Na-na-na-na) Whoa! Whoa!’. This and ‘Shackled and Drawn’ sit together as what happens when the dourness of Aniello’s production sucks the air out of songs that aim for …The Seeger Sessions‘ lightness of foot.

Most: We Take Care of Our Own

It was almost too obvious a choice for Obama to use this in his re-election campaign. This is Springsteen at his best – a real call to arms that doesn’t hammer any point too hard but packs plenty of punch. It sounds fresh, akin to his then new-found friends in Gaslight Anthem or Arcade Fire, and relevant. Much like ‘Born In The U.S.A’ it’s an fist-pumper with a bitter current beneath it but that doesn’t overshadow it. Here Aniello’s touch is light and, released as the lead-off single for the album, it felt like a promise of more to come. Also worth paying attention to are ‘Death to My Hometown’, ‘This Depression’, ‘Rocky Ground’, ‘We Are Alive’, ‘This Depression’ and ‘Swallowed Up (In The Belly of The Whale).’

Least and Most: Working on a Dream

/ Tony / 2 Comments

Coming in hot off the back of writing for Magic, Springsteen dropped Working On A Dream a little over a year after that album – his shortest gap between albums for some time. ‘What Love Can Do’ was written toward the end of sessions for the former, but not fitting there and feeling like it was the start of something ‘else’, Brendan O’Brien encouraged Bruce to keep writing for a new album with another handful of songs arriving over the next week.

Working On A Dream is definitely a different beast to Magic. While there Springsteen’s approach to recording with O’Brien and the E Street Band – working with a core group of himself, Max Weinberg, Gary Tallent and Roy Bittan and with additional parts added on later – worked for the leaner, meaner sound that suited the theme of Magic, the songs on Working On A Dream are made for bigger stuff, a painting with more colours with Springsteen trying to use less of a ‘rock’ voice and while the E Street Band could make these songs sound as huge as they presumably were in the Boss’s head, the process here means that band has never sounded quite so constrained and tiny.

Least: Queen of the Supermarket

Not only does this song emphasis the above points of production flaws – all the tacked on layers sound too much like veneer when a big, unbridled band sound could’ve made it soar – it’s just a naff song: our hero has literally gone from singing songs of chrome-wheeled, fuel injected love with Fuelie heads and a Hurst on the floor to actually singing about pushing a fucking shopping cart and finding “a dream (that) awaits in aisle number two.” FFS, Bruce. And someone had the bright idea of having the fucking barcode scanner ‘bleeps’ in the fade out. Thunder Road has been swapped for a fucking Sainsburys.

Best: My Lucky Day

My Lucky Day is a relatively fast, blistering tune that sounds like a blast was had recording it. Plus, in the context of this album, its fast, rawer sound – at odds with the layers of overdubs etc that blight the aimed-for sound that drapes so much of the album – means its one of the songs on Working On A Dream that works from a production / sound perspective. It’s also surprisingly – given its faster tempo – a wonderful little love song complete with both a guitar and sax solo.

Least and Most: Magic

/ Tony / 6 Comments

There’s little competition for Magic as Springsteen’s finest ‘post reunion’ albums, in my opinion at least. Yes, The Rising has the joy of a rekindled E Street Band and more than many an album’s share of good tunes but Magic is the album that captures the sense of an artist and band now confident in their ‘second wind’ and an established relationship with produce Brendan O’Brien working at strength.

The other element that sells it for me is that while some dismissed this album as ‘just another collection of songs’ these songs are all tied together with a sense of foreboding, a distaste and often anger at the then-current state of America (which probably seem like the halcyon days now) with lines like “Who’ll be the last to die for a mistake/Whose blood will spill, whose heart will break” or “tell me is that rolling thunder or just the sinking sound of something righteous going under” – all backed by the muscular heft of the E Street Band.

Least: Girls In Their Summer Clothes

I know this is probably among the least popular of my ‘least’ takes – at least considering it’s the second most streamed track on the album by a long way – but there’s something about ‘Girls In Their Summer Clothes’ that’s just never sat right with me. It feels too stodgy to be the lighter ‘fun’ song on the album -like ‘Mary’s Place’ or ‘Waitin’ On A Sunny Day’ on The Rising – and Springsteen’s vocal take sounds surprisingly flat or almost disinterested… with a little less heavy a sound it would probably fit better on Springsteen’s next album. Which in itself isn’t a good thing either…

Most: Gypsy Biker

In which Springsteen takes his Vietnam-vet song ‘Shut Out The Light’s “Bobby pulled his Ford out of the garage and they polished up the chrome” line and updates it for a more modern war. In keeping with the heavier-hitting bitterness with which Magic bristles against the decisions of the US, this time instead of the relief of “I’m so glad to have you back with me,” it’s a coffin that’s come home and the cycle is being pulled from the garage to be burnt in the foothills with the kiss-off ” now all that remains is my love for you brother, lying still and unchanged. To them that threw you away, you ain’t nothin’ but gone.”