By Sean Sennett
Brisbane Times
http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/
March 3, 2012
If you're in the business of writing great rock songs, it doesn't hurt to be ''pissed off about something''. That's according to Bruce Springsteen, whose latest album, Wrecking Ball, illustrates the point. Taking its name from the few tonnes of mongrel metal that brought down New Jersey's Giants Stadium, Wrecking Ball ruminates on much that has gone sour with the American and, more broadly, Western dream.
What stoked the fire in Springsteen's belly was the fallout from the 2008 financial crisis, in particular the effect it had on individuals, the loss of jobs and dignity, the failure of the system to take responsibility for the collapse, and the formation of the Occupy movement.
''You tend to do your best work when there's something you can really push against,'' Springsteen says. ''People lost their homes and nobody went to jail. There was really no accountability for years.
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''A basic theft had occurred that struck at what the American idea was about.''
In Wrecking Ball, Springsteen articulates social and economic concerns through a series of well-written vignettes but the sonic backdrop is one Springsteen fans haven't heard before.
With new producer Ron Aniello at the helm, Springsteen uses a melting pot of styles that frame his distinct voice amid everything from drum loops and gospel to female rap. He even dipped into the Alan Lomax folk archives in search of sounds that would invoke previous depressions. ''I've used voices from history and from other sides of the grave I use folk music, Civil War music, gospel music and even '30s horns on a song called Jack of All Trades,'' he says. ''The idea was that the music was going to contextualise historically that this has happened before in the 1930s, the 1800s … It's happened over and over and over again.''
The first single from the album, We Take Care of Our Own, with its clear nod to the New Orleans poor who were left stranded during and after hurricane Katrina, meditates on failed governance. It does, however, have faith in the power of the people.
Like his anthem Born in the U.S.A., the political Right has already misinterpreted it.
''The song asks the question that the rest of the record tries to answer, which is, 'Do we take care of our own?' - and we often don't,'' the singer says. ''I write carefully and precisely and, I believe, clearly. If you're missing it, you're not quite thinking hard enough. There is a patriotism underneath all my music, but it's a very critical, questioning, often angry patriotism.''
Springsteen believes his work has ''always been about judging the distance between [America's] reality and the American dream''. Before the potshots are fired, he admits he lives in a big house. But his working-class roots are beyond question and he's a man known to lend a hand. His view of what the US needs is shaped by his own early home life. In the past, his relationship with his father informed much of his work, as it does now.
''I think politics come out of psychology. Psychology comes out of your formative years … From when I was born to 18, I was in a house where my mother was the primary breadwinner and worked very hard at it. My father struggled to find work. I saw that was deeply painful and created a crisis of masculinity that was unrepairable at the end of the day.''
Similar conditions exist in the US today, where a service economy is overtaking the traditional manufacturing economy.
''In families where men don't have the skills to continue being the primary breadwinner in the new employment landscape, the loss of work can create a loss of self.
''Work creates an enormous sense of self and I saw that in my mother. She was an enormous, towering figure to me in the best possible way. I picked up a lot of things from her in the way that I work … I also picked up a lot of the failings of when your father doesn't have those things and that results in a house that turns into a minefield.
''It's abusive in different ways. There's emotional turmoil.''
Springsteen says much of the anger in his music comes from that time. As he has aged, he has looked not just at the psychological forces in his family but the social forces that made home life difficult.
''That led me into a lot of the writing I've done,'' he says. ''I'm motivated circumstantially by the events of the day: 'That's unfair, that's theft, that's against what we believe in, that's not what America stands for.' The reasons to ask those questions come out of the house I grew up in. The country should strive for full employment; it brings a sense of … self-esteem and belonging.''
Chatting with Springsteen backstage at the Theatre Marigny in Paris, the singer explains that opening Wrecking Ball with We Take Care of Our Own was crucial to his dialogue with his fans.
Previous albums have followed a similar format. The River, for example, starts with The Ties that Bind. The rest of the record deals with the ideas of commitments to home and marriage raised in that song.
''If you listen to Darkness on the Edge of Town, the album starts with Badlands and the rest of the record deals with philosophical questions that come up in Badlands. Born to Run starts with Thunder Road, which is two people on a journey of some sort and the rest of the record tries to figure out where they're going.
''So I set the record up with a big song that holds the record within it. Then I start to piece [it together].''
Getting it right, however, wasn't easy. Springsteen called time on almost two now-unreleased solo albums before striking a chord with Aniello, who had been working with Springsteen's wife, Patti Scialfa. Also back on the production team is manager Jon Landau, whose re´sume´ includes Springsteen's seminal '70s and '80s output, back to the MC5 and Jackson Browne.
''It's not hard if it's not right,'' he says of the work that was jettisoned after Wrecking Ball.
''If it's right, you don't have to say it. But if you play it and you think, 'If I put it out, it's going to confuse the conversation I'm having with my fans,' then I don't put it out.
''I don't mind if it's good and fully realised and it's slightly confusing - that's all right. But if it's not fully realised and confusing, it's simply not done. And if it's not done, you don't wanna put it out.''
Unlike days gone by, Springsteen likes to work at a clip and his best new work carries a sense of something that feels direct and immediate. He says he has become less obsessive over the years.
''You wanna get the music down. I want to get the essence of what I do and let it roll. The record has to build and expand emotionally and people still have to have a good time listening to it.''
A highlight on the album is Land of Hope and Dreams, which features the last saxophone solo from Springsteen's faithful friend and on-stage foil, the late Clarence Clemons. Springsteen met Clemons when he was ''a kid of 22''.
''When he comes up on Land of Hope and Dreams, it's a lovely moment for me. My relationship with him fired my imagination and my own dreams. It made me want to write for those sax sounds.
''Losing him is like losing rain or air - it's elemental. When we go on tour we'll [be] taking a horn section that includes Jake [Clemons, Clarence's nephew]. It'll take a village of men to replace the Big Man.''
Springsteen has a soft spot for Australia, too. He loves the feel of the countryside and the people. He still scratches his head that a cricket match can last five days - ''That's a wild one, man.'' But, with long legs already planned for the E Street Band's tour of Britain, Europe and the US, he has no immediate plans to come here.
''It's such a damn long way away. We do get down there from time to time. I hope to get down there again. The last time all the power went out,'' he says, referring to power failures in Sydney. ''I hope there are generators down there [next time]. I hope the electricity is right,'' he says, laughing. ''I'd love to come back.''
