Record Details - RecordDB

Record ID 2016

Artist Bruce Springsteen

Title Magic

Field / Genre Rock

Year Recorded 2007

Label Sony

Pressing Aus

Rating ****

Discs 1

Media CD

Date Bought 11 Oct 2008

Cost ¤9.00

Cover Name —

Review Hailed as Bruce Springsteen's return to rock upon its release in fall 2007, Magic isn't quite as straightforward as that description would have it seem. True, this does mark another reunion with the E Street Band, only his second studio album with the group since 1984's Born in the U.S.A., giving this a rock & roll heft missing from his two previous albums —the dusty, literary Devils & Dust and the raucous We Shall Overcome: The Pete Seeger Sessions —and unlike The Rising, the first E Street Band album of the new millennium, there is no overarching theme here. It's just a collection of songs, something that Bruce hasn't done since Human Touch, or maybe even The River. All the ingredients are in place for a simple, straight-ahead rock album, except for two things: Springsteen didn't write a lot of flat-out rock songs, and with his producer Brendan O'Brien, he didn't make an album that sounds much like a rock & roll album, either. Magic is bright and punchy, a digital-age production through and through, right down to how each track feels as if it were crafted according to its own needs instead of the record as a whole.Underneath this shiny veneer, the E Street Band can still lift this music toward great heights, infusing it with a sense of majesty, but this is an E Street Band that was recorded piecemeal in the studio, pasted together track by track as the group fit sessions into their busy schedules. This approach gives the album a bit of a mannered, meticulous sound not unlike The Rising, but such careful construction was appropriate for Springsteen's cautious, caring 9/11 rumination; on Magic it tends to keep the music from reaching full flight. Then again, the songs here don't quite lend themselves to either the transcendent sweep of Born to Run or the down-n-dirty roadhouse rockers that cluttered The River. There's a quiet melancholy underpinning this album. It's evident even on the hard-driving "Radio Nowhere," whose charging guitars mask a sense of desperation, or the deceptively breezy "Girls in Their Summer Clothes," which grows more wistful with each passing chorus. "Girls" is also indicative of how Magic doesn't quite feel like classic E Street Band, even when it offers reminders of their classic sound: like "Born to Run," it trades upon Phil Spector, but here the band doesn't absorb the Wall of Sound; they evoke it, giving the song a nostalgic bent that emphasizes the soft sadness in his melody. This oddly bittersweet vibe that is shared by "Your Own Worst Enemy," whose baroque harpsichords —uncannily reminiscent of the Left Banke —are the biggest curveball here.That is, it's the biggest specific curveball outside of the overall feel of Magic, which is far too somber to be called just another rock & roll album. The solemn, sepia-toned picture of the Boss on the cover is a pretty big tip-off that there may not be a whole lot of good times coming on Magic, but it's a surprise that this is not only not as joyous as We Shall Overcome, it doesn't have as many moments of sunny relief as The Rising, which had "Waitin' on a Sunny Day" and "Mary's Place" among its quiet, artful grief. Here, the joy and the sadness are fused, skewing such otherwise lively numbers as "Livin' in the Future" —which otherwise sounds like it could sneak onto the second side of Born in the U.S.A. —toward the sober side. Springsteen also targets war and politics throughout the album, either through metaphors (the title track, where the audience is suckered by a con man) or blunt declarations ("Last to Die"). All this toil and tension doesn't make for a very fun album, but 2007 isn't a very fun time, so it's an appropriate reflection of the time. The thing of it is, despite some fine moments of craft —both musical and lyrical, whether on "Gypsy Biker" or "Long Walk Home" —the songs aren't written with the keen literary eye that made Devils & Dust play like a collection of short stories. Like the music, the words just feel a shade too deliberate, rendering Magic just a bit too overthought —hardly enough to make for a bad record, but one that isn't quite grabbing, even if it is helped immeasurably by the E Street Band in old pro mode. And what's missing comes into sharp relief as the album draws to a close with "Terry's Song," a quickly written and recorded tribute to Terry Magovern, Springsteen's longtime friend and assistant. Compared to the rest of the album, this simple tune is a bit ragged, but it's soulful, moving, and indelible, immediate where the rest of the album is a shade distant. After hearing it, it's hard not to wish that Bruce would record this way all the time.— Stephen Thomas ErlewineBruce Springsteen occupies a unique place in American popular culture. He doesn't have the cachet that Bob Dylan has, yet he's much more approachable—populist in practice, not just in theory. He has inspired pale imitators (Tom Petty, John Mellencamp), but has no peers to speak of. Unlike similar 1980s supercelebrities Prince or Madonna, he remains artistically viable and culturally relevant two decades after the height of his popularity. In the 1970s, he was never hip, but in the 2000s he has gained a considerable following among indie rock bands like the Hold Steady, the Killers, and the National, among many others. Because his music has lost none of its triumphant rock'n'roll kick—no matter how many times you hear it, "Born to Run" always kills—he has become today what Brian Wilson was 10 years ago: the indie ideal.And yet, his popularity extends far beyond the indie realm. His mainstream audience remains fanatically loyal, making him one of the few artists that both you and your boss enjoy. Springsteen's success continues despite the constantly shifting ground that finds him on one side of certain cultural and political lines, then on another. His 2002 album The Rising was received as a post-9/11 salve, a paean to American resilience in the face of tragedy: The same people who died or lost loved ones in the attacks—cops, firefighters, corporate grunts, their wives, husbands, families—were said to be the very same people who inhabited Springsteen's earlier songs, now facing hard, cold reality. So it's forgivable if many heard the album they believed the country needed instead of the one Springsteen actually made.Despite the nickname, the Boss has never inhabited his iconic status comfortably. Devils & Dust followed The Rising in 2005*,* trading the E Street Band's full sound for acoustic contemplation and spinning a much grimmer version of America that was full of unrealized dreams and insoluble injustices. We Shall Overcome, his album of Pete Seeger covers and his best late-career album, proved much subtler in its subversiveness, communicating an anti-establishment stance through decades-old tunes. That's nothing new for him: The E Street Band's enormous, exuberant rock'n'roll has always hidden darker currents of American realism, most famously on "Born in the U.S.A.", a song about disillusioned Vietnam vets that was hilariously co-opted by Ronald Reagan's 1984 presidential campaign as a theme song.That's the secret power of Magic, Springsteen's 15th album in 34 years: The album hides its raw disillusionment deep within the music, mingling it with a weary optimism and a thoroughly committed lustiness that have not diminished with age. The result is a surprisingly complex album that recalls The River in its heartfelt populism, Darkness on the Edge of Town in its small-town scope, and Tunnel of Love in its mature take on love and sex. On "I'll Work for Your Love", which could be a cover of an outtake from the first half of The River, he tells a woman he's "counting the bones in your back like the stations of the cross"—a concise fusion of the sexual and the spiritual. Where he once chronicled youthful abandon in the face of life's possibility, now his subject is the wonders of middle-aged contentment, as if he can't believe his own luck. It's a surprisingly durable subject, one that fits his outsize sound perfectly.On the other hand, Springsteen's prickly angst makes songs like "Last to Die" and "You'll Be Comin' Down" sound like challenges to, rather than platitudes for, regular Joes. On second single "Long Walk Home", he considers the small(-town) satisfaction of having distinctive local landmarks and knowing everyone you pass on the street. That such pleasures are slowly dying makes the song both a romanticizing ode to an American ideal that may never have existed as well as a clear-headed lament that we no longer yearn for those securities. "You know that flag flying over the courthouse means certain things are set in stone," he sings, "who we are, what we'll do and what we won't."If Magic revisits the subject matter of previous career crests, it unfortunately recalls The Rising in its sound: Brendan O'Brien returns to the producer's seat, once again shuffling most of the E Street Band to the music's margins and focusing his attention squarely on the Boss. In addition to drenching slower songs like "Your Own Worst Enemy" and "Devil's Arcade" in melodramatic and totally unnecessary strings, the producer too often glosses over the creaks and wear in Springsteen's voice—like air-brushing a model's face to look younger—when it's the imperfections that give him his particular authority. Springsteen should sound more like Tom Waits, less like 3 Doors Down.But then there are the songs that get everything exactly right, like the gorgeous "Girls in Their Summer Clothes" and "Livin' in the Future". On the latter, the E Street Band are given freer rein to revive and even update the boardwalk strut and namesake shuffle of their early days. Clarence Clemons' sax is integral to the modified doo-wop groove, drummer Max Weinberg swings easily, guitarists Steve Van Zandt and Nils Lofgren trade out licks, and Patti Scialfa's tender vocals echo Springsteen's excited performance. While he doesn't have the youthful eye for detail and narrative he once had, Springsteen's more concise songwriting style allows for some nice observations and surprisingly playful comparisons. "Then just about sundown, you come walkin' through town," he sings on "Livin' in the Future", "your boot heels clicking like the barrel of a pistol spinning 'round." He—and the E Street Band—actually sound hungry and, yes, just a little pissed off. It's an angry song, with a rumbling undercurrent of dread ("Woke up Election Day, sky's gunpowder and shades of gray"), but damn if it doesn't sound awesome when you're speeding down a back road with the windows rolled down.— Stephen M. Deusner, Pitchfork

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