The Wisdom of "Magic"

The Wisdom of "Magic"

By Ed Naha

Created Oct 13 2007 - 10:51am

Boy, the way conservatives are howling about Bruce Springsteen's new CD,

"Magic," [1] you would think he was a twelve-year-old car accident victim

defending S-CHIP.

"Bruce's mind is a little warped," opined one critic. Eugene R. Dunn in "The

Philadelphia Inquirer" referred to Springsteen as "a lifelong anti-GOP

hack." Bill O'Reilly accused Springsteen of "using his music and his talent

to try to persuade people that his view of the world is right," after posing

the question: "Is Springsteen's dissent legitimate or anti-American?"

From this type of sampling, you would think that "Magic" is filled with

musical rants along the lines of the Airplane's "Volunteers of America,"

Country Joe's "Feel Like I'm Fixin' To Die Rag," Dylan's "Masters of War" or

Barry McGuire's "Eve of Destruction."

It's not.

It's a musically exhilarating outing, filled with lyrics that are subtle,

heartfelt, wistful and, Neocon critics beware, truthful. That adds up to a

lethal combination for those who still think George W. Bush is a great

leader.

Springsteen has always been a slightly schizophrenic songwriter, alternating

between nouveau folk and classic pop/rock sounds. "Magic" showcases the best

of both approaches. Guitars wail in harmony. Saxophones soar. Strings swirl.

The rhythm section rumbles and roars. Background vocals materialize and

disappear like will-o'- the -wisps while harmonicas howl achingly in the

background.

But it's the lyrics that truly haunt. Springsteen songs, like those of

Warren Zevon, have always told stories. Whereas Zevon relied on dark humor

and a strange sense of romanticism, Springsteen has always mixed melancholy

with a sense of defiant spirit. In his early works, his canvasses were

small. Nowadays, they're more universal. The lyrics are more observant and

the melancholy is tinged with a sense of frustration, bewilderment and loss.

The title track, "Magic," is almost cinematic, the narrator being a small

time magician whose "tricks" grow more and more ominous. As the

carnival-like arrangement builds, the magician moves from sleight of hand to

his grim grand finale.

"I'll cut you in half, While you're smiling ear to ear, And the freedom that

you sought's, Driftin' like a ghost amongst the trees, This is what will be,

this is what will be.

"Now there's a fire down below, But it's coming up here, So leave everything

you know, And carry only what you fear."

What Springsteen does on the "Magic" CD is disarmingly daring. Even in the

most popish sounding tunes, he's painting a grand portrait of a country that

has lost its way, of a population that has lost its absolutes.

In "Long Walk Home," the narrator, after noting that everything in his small

town seems off kilter, reflects on what it once had been.

"My father said 'Son, we're lucky in this town. It's a beautiful place to be

born. It just wraps its arms around you. Nobody crowds you, nobody goes it

alone. You know that flag flying over the courthouse means certain things

are set in stone. Who were are, what we'll do and what we won't.'"

The narrator's response: "It's gonna be a long walk home."

Even the "it has a good beat and you can dance to it" strains of "Radio

Nowhere" asks "Is anybody alive out there?"

The raucous "Livin' In The Future" is both a love song and something more as

the narrator reveals: "The earth it gave away, the sea rose toward the sun.

I opened up my heart to you. It got damaged and undone. My ship Liberty

sailed away on a blood red horizon. The groundskeeper opened the gates and

let the wild dogs run. My faith's been torn asunder. Tell me, is that

rolling thunder or just the sinkin' sound of somethin' righteous goin'

under?"

"Gypsy Biker" opens with: "The speculators made their money on the blood you

shed." It includes lines like "To the dead it don't matter much 'bout what's

wrong or right."

"Last to Die" is probably the most outright condemnation of America as

warmonger, shifting from the thoughts of a family on an outing ("The sun

sets in flames as the city burns. Another day gone down as the night turns.

And I hold you here in my heart. As things fall apart.") in a world where

war is raging ("Who'll be the last to die for a mistake, the last to die for

a mistake. Whose blood will spill. Whose heart will break. Who'll be the

last to die for a mistake. The wise men were all fools. What to do.").

"Devil's Arcade" is as spooky as the title suggests, concerning a soldier

who's either dead or grievously wounded, either anticipating the future or

reflecting on the past as the world he knows crumbles. "You said heroes are

needed, so heroes get made. Somebody made a bet. Somebody paid. The cool

desert morning, then nothin' to save. Just metal and plastic where your body

caved."

It ends with a heartbeat drumbeat.

In nearly every song, the narrator is witnessing destruction of one sort of

another, sad changes. In "You'll Be Comin' Down," which could be read as

either comments regarding a woman's life in the fast lane coming to an end

or a metaphor for America today, the lyrics read: "Like a thief on a Sunday

morning, it all falls apart with no warning."

The CD is filled with either/or lyrics and musical turns that leave you

breathless. In the end, the message is clear. We're down. But we're not

out...yet.

Springsteen realized that he would be pilloried in some circles for his

political take on America today. Heck, everyone realized that. As "Rolling

Stone" Executive Editor Joe Levy told Reuters re: the backlash: "You're

talking about a right-wing media machine that can manage to make a war hero

like John Kerry look like a faker. These people are not burdened by

reality."

Of course, Springsteen stirred the pot a bit on "The Today Show" introducing

"Livin' In the Future" by commenting: "In the past six years we've had to

add to the American picture rendition, illegal wiretapping, voter

suppression, no habeas corpus, the neglect of our great city of New Orleans

and her people, an attack on the Constitution and the loss of our best young

men and women in a tragic war."

(Springsteen's take on torture led critic Scott Rogers to pen: "Listening to

my hero talk politics is torture. Bruce should stick with music, not

politics.")

Springsteen, in an interview on "60 Minutes," didn't exactly shrug off the

criticism but put it in its perspective: an artist has to be honest. And,

perhaps, an American artist in these times has to try harder than most to

shine a spotlight on the truth.

He writes, he said, to: "Find out who you are, and who I am, and then who we

are. I'm interested in that. I'm interested in what it means to be an

American. I'm interested in what it means to live in America. I'm interested

in the kind of country that we live in and leave our kids. I'm interested in

trying to define what that country is. I got the chutzpa or whatever you

want to say to believe that if I write a really good song about it, it's

going to make a difference. It's going to matter to somebody.

"I guess I would say that what I do is I try to chart the distance between

American ideals and American reality. That's how my music is laid out. It's

like we've reached a point where it seems that we're so intent on protecting

ourselves that we're willing to destroy the best parts of ourselves to do

so."

When asked what he meant by that, Springsteen said: "Well, I think that

we've seen things happen over the past six years that I don't think anybody

ever thought they'd ever see in the United States. When people think of the

American identity, they don't think of torture. They don't think of illegal

wiretapping. They don't think of voter suppression. They don't think of no

habeas corpus. No right to a lawyer ... you know. Those are things that are

anti-American."

When asked what he thought about being called "un-patriotic," Springsteen

replied: "Well, that's just the language of the day, you know? The modus

operandi for anybody who doesn't like somebody, you know, criticizing where

we've been or where we're goin'. It's unpatriotic at any given moment to sit

back and let things pass that are damaging to some place that you love so

dearly. And that has given me so much. And that I believe in, I still feel

and see us as a beacon of hope and possibility."

Springsteen, who sees some of his roots sprouting from the topical folk

songs of Woody Guthrie and Pete Seger sees his role as an extension of

theirs. "There's a part of the singer going way back in American history

that is of course the canary in the coalmine. When it gets dark, you're

supposed to be singing. It's dark right now."

When conservative critics attack Springsteen as being an elitist or a

"surrender monkey," they might want to take into account the underlying

optimism of this blue collar guitar strummer from New Jersey: "I think we

live in a time when what is true can be made to seem a lie. And what is a

lie can be made to seem true. And I think that the successful manipulation

of those things have characterized several of our past elections. That level

of hubris and arrogance has got us in the mess that we're in right now. And

we're in a mess. But if we subvert the best things that we're about in the

name of protecting our freedoms, if we remove them, then who are we

becoming, you know? Who are we, you know? The American idea is a beautiful

idea. It needs to be preserved, served, protected and sung out. Sung out."

Eugene R. Dunn apparently missed the point when he wrote in "The

Philadelphia Enquirer:" "Twenty-seven years after admitting that he found

the 1980 landslide election of Ronald Reagan 'terrifying,' Springsteen is in

the process of morphing himself into an unpaid mouthpiece for the Democratic

National Party. But this is America. He can do what he truly believes in.

However, it's important his audience knows who and what he has become, so it

can make an informed decision on Election Day 2008."

(It should be noted that Reagan tried to use "Born In the USA,"

Springsteen's tale of a disenfranchised Viet Nam vet trying to salvage his

life stateside, as an up-tempo, patriotic anthem for his campaign. Until

Springsteen told him to stop.)

Probably the funniest response to Springsteen's "Magic" has been delivered

by fair and balanced Bill O'Reilly, who has dared Springsteen to debate him.

"You know, Mr. Springsteen objects to almost every anti-terror measure put

in place since 9/11. Almost every single one. Yet, he won't come into a

forum like this and answer any questions about it. I think that's

irresponsible."

O'Reilly said that musicians like Springsteen have "much more influence than

the Speaker of the House, the president of the Senate, or anybody else. And

I say if Bruce Springsteen wants to undermine anti-terror measures, he has a

responsibility to come in here and other places and explain it. Not just to

do 'drive by' stuff.'"

But, O'Reilly's big finish was truly priceless. "America is a torture

nation, no habeas corpus. We're eavesdropping on everybody. It's bull. It's

bull. It isn't happening. It's out of context. Bruce Springsteen doesn't

know what he's talking about. I'll give $25K to Habitat for Humanity if

he'll come in and sit here. And you know why he won't come in and sit here?

Because he knows that I'd wipe him out. He couldn't stand up to the

questioning. And we'd be respectful."

Wow! Does that sound like an offer Springsteen can't refuse? Surely, the

dialogue would be calm and intellectual (as well as fair and balanced). Were

I O'Reilly, I would have upped the ante. If Springsteen appears on Bill's

show, then O'Reilly should open one of Bruce's - fronting his band The Fox

Falafel Five.

Sigh.

As Springsteen said from the stage a few nights ago. "It isn't about magic.

It's about tricks."

Sing it out, brother.

Full disclosure department: I first heard of Springsteen back around 1970. I

was in a nine-piece band called Factory and Bruce was fronting Steel Mill.

Another group, Blackstone Forest, featured drummer Max Weinberg. The three

bands played throughout New Jersey, desperately wanting to be the state's

biggest band.

Blackstone Forest got signed to Epic Records, changed its name to Blackstone

and released an album. It tanked. I got fired from Factory because of my

"smart mouth" and Springsteen formed Doctor Zoom and the Cosmic Boom.

Fast-forward two years. I had become a rock writer and landed a job at

Columbia Records as a publicist. For some reason, the legendary John Hammond

(the man who signed everyone from Bob Dylan to Bessie Smith to the label)

took a liking to this longhaired weirdo because I genuinely loved music. He

was always playing me songs.

Now, John was in the twilight of his career at the time, an aging lion that

the label respected but also thought old hat. John came into my office and

asked me if I'd like to meet someone he'd just signed. It was Bruce

Springsteen.

Springsteen was a scruffy, wiry Jersey kid who seemed shy. He'd brought his

girlfriend with him for the meeting. He said about six words as we listened

to a tape of a few of his songs. I was blown away. Because Hammond has

signed him, he was being hyped as "the new Dylan" by the promotion

department. The was the easiest way to go. Simple. To the point. Waay off

base. (Plus, it was a real burden to Springsteen.)

Fast-forward to the release of "Greetings from Asbury Park," Springsteen's

first album. I loved it. I was also a tad jealous. Springsteen was a year

older than I and really knew how to write.

I worked the door at his first New York gig for the press at Max's Kansas

City. It was a small area above a restaurant. The band was so big that they

didn't all fit on the stage. Half of them stood on the floor. Clarence

Clemmons played tuba on a coupla songs.

The record sales were underwhelming. I asked my boss if I could bend the

rules a little. Although I was his publicist, I wrote the first stateside

piece on Springsteen (in the "On the Horizon" section) for "Circus"

magazine, where I was resident record reviewer. Didn't help.

A second album was released, "The Wild, The Innocent and the E Street

Shuffle." It was great. Nobody bought it. The label was considering dropping

Springsteen. My boss (who was REALLY a fan) decided that the publicity

department could ride to the rescue. And we did. Bruce was amazing on stage.

We worked his concerts extra-hard. I called every photographer in the book,

from the "A-listers" to the "non-listed." (Bruce's "Time" magazine cover was

taken by a young lady who was almost unknown. It ran the same week as his

"Newsweek" cover!) Critic Jon Landau declared, "I have seen the future of

rock and roll and his name is Bruce Springsteen."

The label staged a special concert in a joint on Sunset Strip just for label

employees during a Columbia Records convention in L.A. Somebody dosed my

boss and I and, somehow, I got it together enough to work the door. It was

an invitation only gig. I wound up letting in about 100 civilians while

checking off names and talking to my hands. (To this day, if I'm working out

of Los Angeles, I sometime encounter folks who say: "Are you the same Ed

Naha who let me into Springsteen's concert?")

The concert kicked ass. Springsteen wasn't dropped.

By the time Springsteen recorded "Born To Run," I was in the A&R department

and was the album's co-coordinator. This largely consisted of okaying the

mushrooming bills (the album took nearly a year), getting yelled at for

allowing the aforementioned bills to occur and being forbidden to talk to

the artist or his manager. Bruce was officially "Big Time" and only the head

of the department could talk to him. Plus, there were legal problems. Bruce

had a new manager, Jon Landau. His first manager wasn't appreciative.

Anyhow, the album came out and was a smash. Springsteen earned his first

Gold Record. I got a Gold Record, too, attended about a dozen concerts and,

then, quit the music business - a line of work that makes the movie business

seem like a love-in.

Today, I don't think Springsteen would recognize me if I danced naked with

weasels three feet away from him. That was what the circus was like back

then. The corporate clowns took the credit while the acrobats worked in the

shadows.

I still love music, but I find less and less to love. When I was a teenager,

buying an album was an event. They went for $1.98 in monaural (look it up)

and $2.98 in stereo. Being cash-strapped, if you went for a stereo album,

you were making a commitment. You'd take that album home, lock yourself in a

room, put it on the cheesy stereo and play it over and over and over. You

read the lyrics. You closed your eyes and imagined images to go with the

songs. That album became part of you and you became part of it.

I hadn't done that in years.

I'm still doing that with "Magic."

So thanks, Bruce, for reawakening my teen spirit.

It's a great CD. It has wisdom and you can dance to it.

_______

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"A little patience and we shall see the reign of witches pass over, their

spells dissolve, and the people recovering their true sight, restore their

government to its true principles. It is true that in the meantime we are

suffering deeply in spirit,

and incurring the horrors of a war and long oppressions of enormous public

debt. But if the game runs sometimes against us at home we must have

patience till luck turns, and then we shall have an opportunity of winning

back the principles we have lost, for this is a game where principles are at

stake."

-Thomas Jefferson