This is my favorite Bruce Springsteen album. For now! You never know. I'm familiar with less than 50% of his music, and we're not going to get to an album I don't know for this column for another eight weeks (and I would be extremely surprised if Human Touch becomes my favorite, but we'll see!). There's a difference, of course, between "favorite" and "best." His best is probably Born to Run (again: so far!). Talking about "best" is boring, though. Let's get subjective. Let's talk about favorites, and let's talk about the personal reasons that affect what becomes your favorite.
The River is my favorite Bruce Springsteen album, but not because I heard it during a pivotal time in my life. That's what happens sometimes, right? You hear an album at age eighteen and it becomes everything for you. I didn't hear The River till my mid-20s, probably. But it definitely fits my definition on what a "favorite" album should be. Usually, my favorites are big albums that take big swings and have a lot of different textures to them, but ultimately adds up to one strong statement. The Beatles' The White Album is the prototype for the type of album that becomes a "favorite" in any artist's discography. When the songs are strong and/or varied, more is better. It's as simple as that.
The variation here is between the big party songs and the dramatic slow songs. The ratio of the former to the latter is probably 2:1, which fits my own personal needs perfectly. I love the party songs. I liked Little Steven's Underground Garage before I even knew who he was, so everything else I have subsequently learned about Steven Van Zandt (besides his acting career, I guess) is viewed through that context. Of course he co-produced this album! These are the rockers that I'd hear on his radio show!
I guess critics at the time weren't totally keen on the idea of Springsteen sanding down his songwriting for simple songs like "Crush on You" or "I'm a Rocker." I don't give a shit. These are FUN. "Oo, oo, I got a crush on you," you literally cannot get simpler, or more catchy, than that. The garage bands of the '60s and '70s were bogged down by complex musical themes, and this is Springsteen's ode to those types of bands. I love it. It's fun as hell, and that's the point. It's meant to sound like a live recording (including audience / party sounds on "Sherry Darling"); I'll never see the E Street Band perform live, but I sure do love the idea of the energy of their live performances, and I'm confident it was captured here.
There are 20 songs on The River, and they're not all party rockers. The second disc especially has some downers—but in a good way, I promise! The River is on point in the way that it slows down but remains compelling ("Meeting Across the River" these are not). Something like "Point Blank" is absolutely not something that the E Street Band is gonna be playing on the Underground Garage, but I definitely stop what I'm doing to hear this thing. There's as much bombast in its words and in Springsteen's inflections as there is in any full-band banger. And even if it's not particularly your style, you can just wait till "Cadillac Ranch" comes crashing in afterward.
I suppose something I should make more of an effort with in this column is going for the big-picture stuff, i.e. "how does this album fit into Springsteen's entire discography?" As I am not yet a master of this discography, I can only regurgitate what the generally agreed upon narrative is (a framework we discussed last time). So here's The River's. We saw in Darkness on the Edge of Town that Springsteen's lyrical abilities were growing, and sort of solidifying around the ideals of the working class. He had dreamed of escape, and then actually escaped, and then was horrified when he realized that he was just simply lucky, and that everyone else he cared about had it really fucking rough, especially during the recession at the time. So his songs were angry or sad, simply because they were about this subject matter.
The River changes the tune in that he's jamming with the E Street Band and having fun with it. But lyrically, the story remains the same. These are still songs about the normal folk who are grinding it out every day. "Sad story, happy song" wasn't a new concept then, but it's an evergreen one, and Springsteen pulls it off well here. It's not ALL lyrics in this vein—some songs on this album really do just exist as an excuse for the E Street Band to party—but it's a significant step in the narrative. Eventually, this core concept would grow to envelop present-day concerns, to the point where we're listening to Springsteen songs like this that are about 9/11, Occupy Wall Street, the War on Terror, etc. But we're not there yet. The River is Springsteen open to the possibility that maybe he's best used in the service of those average Americans who work hard every day and then relax with a little Springsteen music.
All of that is important, but none of it is the reason why this is my favorite Springsteen album. The reason is too simple—it's the most fun Springsteen album. It's the loosest, but it's also the largest. The alchemy of those two descriptors together makes it special. I know it's so generic to put it that way, but it's the fucking truth. There is no other Springsteen album that I can listen to this often and not get sick of. Even the best albums! I cannot listen to Born to Run five times in a row. I could listen to The River fifty times in a row and still crave that 51st spin.
I think maybe it's worth considering that it's my favorite because it lacks the baggage of "important album." I like an Important Album, but if every Springsteen album was certifiably Important, then I'd get worn out pretty quickly. Springsteen is one of the most important artists of my lifetime, and so, maybe I perversely like the idea of an album in which the guy just has fun. Maybe I don't want important artists. Maybe I just want to have fun. Is that so wrong?
Song for the "Tramps like Us" mixtape: "Out in the Street"
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