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Something old, something new make up Springsteen’s ‘Letter to You’
An organ crescendo punctuated with glockenspiel welcomes the E Street Band to Bruce Springsteen’s new album, “Letter to You.” But the grand introduction doesn’t open the LP.
The keys and bells combination that kick-starts “Burnin’ Train” doesn’t come until track three on the Boss’ 20th album. The opener, “One Minute You’re Here,” unfolds slowly, patiently, with the utter despair of a “Tunnel of Love” divorce requiem. Song number two, the title track, builds only to midtempo, the kind of underrated simple rock tune found in the shadows of “Human Touch.” Finally, almost 10 minutes in, “Burnin’ Train,” with organ, glockenspiel, drum roll, ringing guitars and a thrust forward that won’t quit, shows off the E Street Band at full power.
Unreasonable expectations might sink your opinion of “Letter to You.” Yes, the E Street Band dominates the record and yes, the outfit recorded the whole thing in just a few days all playing together in Springsteen’s home studio. But it isn’t the conclusion of the grandiose bar band trilogy started with “Born to Run” and continued on “Born in the USA.” It’s not a full-on throwback to the beat-poet-walking-the-midway of his first two LPs. It’s not another introspective neo-folk experiment or wild hootenanny. Instead, the record serves as a survey of the many styles that helped define Springsteen over the last half century (its a-bit-of-everything- people- l ove- about- me approach recalls REM’s final album, “Collapse into Now”).
Both lyrically and musically, Springsteen and band engage with nostalgia and now. The singer has revived and revised songs from the ’70s (back when his Dylan fetish ran unchecked) and paired them with new compositions. The unfocused approach occasionally results in too-soft edges — “Power of Prayer” recalls middling stuff from “Magic,” “House of a Thousand Guitars” needs, and this is pretty on the nose, a lot more guitar. But playing with the past and looking to the future also gives Springsteen and the E Street lineup the courage to rush into thunderclaps, hush to a whisper, and revel in garage rock symphonies (with roots that date back to the early ’70s, “Janey Needs a Shooter” is especially epic).
The sound of this legendary backing band moving forward as a unit clearly thrilled and challenged everyone. The approach gives the material a fleshy rawness that stands in defiance of the anemic production of new millennium output such as “Magic” and “Working on a Dream.” In the climax of “If I Was a Priest,” Roy Bittan’s piano and Charles Giordano’s organ distinctly snake around each other while still giving each room to breathe. “Ghosts” calls out to the fallen kings of E Street and Asbury Park lore with the bottom of the song dropping out long enough for the gang vocal cry of, “By the end of the set we leave no one alive!”
Springsteen keeps some songs for himself making a few minimalist affairs. But he inherently knew he needed the E Street Band plugged in and overdriven on “Letter to You.” The album unfolds like a conversation between the Boss and his fans, his legacy and love of rock ’n’ roll. Those conversations don’t mean a lot without Little Steven, Patti Scialfa, mighty Max Weinberg and the rest of the modern wrecking crew adding their voices to them.