I'm just home from a frustrating trip
to the gym. I’ve got a pulled quad
and was unable to run at any reasonable speed.
Not only do I dislike being injured, getting older just means it is going
to be more and more likely. Of course,
the alternative is far worse, so I guess on balance I’m pretty happy.
To assuage my lack of sports on
the weekend I bought a few more albums because that’s how I roll. I got another Lindi Ortega album, the new
Billy Bragg and the new Steve Earle. Sheila
bought the excellent “Bold As Love” by Jimi Hendrix as well. All these records
will get my standard “three listens, two of which must be consecutive” rule
before I even consider putting them into the collection. That’s how you make sure a new album sinks in
and leaves an impression. It is a rule
that my buddy Spence taught me years ago and it has served me well.
It served me well for this next
review as well, despite the album not being new.
Disc 506 is… Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J.
Artist: Bruce
Springsteen
Year of Release: 1973
What’s up with the Cover? With a title as long and awkward as this album’s it
is not surprising the lettering takes up all the available space. Someone has cleverly bypassed this issue by
putting the pictures – presumably of places in Asbury Park, New Jersey – inside
the text itself.
How I Came To Know It: Sheila and my buddy Casey kindled my love of Bruce
Springsteen, and led me to buy a lot of his albums, but this one was bought by
Sheila on her own. She and Casey (and
most people) like very early Springsteen more than I do.
How It Stacks Up: We have ten Springsteen albums and they are all
good. That said, “Greetings from Asbury
Park, N.J.” (hereafter referred to as ‘Asbury Park’) is not my favourite but it
did pleasantly surprise me. I would put
it seventh of out of ten.
Rating: 3 stars – but almost 4.
It is
always interesting to hear a long-established artist’s first big album,
particularly if it comes to you after you know a bunch of their other
music. That’s how I came to “Greetings
from Asbury Park, N.J.”
My main
(and favourite) Springsteen albums are almost all packed into a run of records
from 1978 to 1984, and coming in 1973, “Asbury Park” is odd to my ear. Springsteen is only twenty-four and his voice
still hasn’t fully taken on that raspy growl that is his signature sound for
much of his career. I like that growl,
and its absence served as an initial barrier to my enjoyment of this record.
Similarly,
the musical style on this album is very different than later records, with a
clear nod to Bob Dylan’s rambling folk sounds and a distinct bohemian hippy
feel. Again, expecting the Boss’ more straightforward
blue-collar themes, this also jarred my initial experience.
Knowing
how well regarded this album is by people whose musical tastes I admire I knew
I couldn’t leave it at that. To counteract
the problem I took a page from my ‘new record’ rule and gave it a couple extra
listens to let the difference of the sound sink in.
As will
often happen with a good record, repeat listens made me appreciate it more and
more. With its heavy focus on piano and
its lighter, folksier feel, this is a record that takes a bit of time to get
into. The lyrics fly at you pretty quickly,
a flurry of imagery, mixing the whimsical and the gritty into one stream of
consciousness.
This is
exemplified by the first track, “Blinded
by the Light” (famously covered by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band in 1976),
which has a whole host of internal rhyme ready to put marbles in the mouth of
anyone quoting it. It begins:
“Madman drummers, bummers and
Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps as the
adolescent pumps his way into his hat.”
What the
hell is going on here? I have no idea,
but I like it and at least the Springsteen original makes the mystery lyric “Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the
night” easy to understand. You’re
welcome, people who were wondering what the hell Manfred Mann was singing about
all those times.
While I
enjoy “Blinded by the Light’s” verbal
gymnastics, at times on the record it can be a bit too much too quickly. When Bruce drops out of singing and switches
to a sort of melodic talking it feels a little too rough around the edges for
my tastes, and draws me out of the song.
This was especially disappointing on “The Flood” which is a tune I really loved, but where Bruce’s
stylings seem just a bit too affected (the organ at the end doesn’t help). This is a personal preference though, not a
fault of Bruce who gives a full effort as ever on his vocal performance. I know enough music to know “The Flood” is some kind of modern
masterpiece – it just didn’t speak to me.
Fortunately
right after “The Flood” I was
rewarded with a song that was the shape of Bruce’s future musical direction,
with “The Angel.” Just Bruce and lonely piano, the lyrics of
this song inspired and eluded me simultaneously to the point that I had to
cheat and look it up on the interwebs.
Turns out it is about a motorcycle outlaw, which made perfect sense once
someone pointed it out to me. It ends
too soon, mournfully leaving me wishing for more:
“Off in the distance the marble
dome
Reflects across the flatlands with
a naked feel off into parts unknown
The woman strokes his polished chrome
and lies beside the angel’s bones.”
Damn,
that’s some fine poetry wrapped up in a rock song.
Musically,
this album is very interesting melodically.
It takes risks and those risks pay off, and there is every reason in the
world that this record is a critical darling.
When I started listening to it, I was expecting to rank the record tenth
out of ten, but as I finish this review it has shot up the standings all the
way to seventh.
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