Song 180: “The Fuse”
Album: The Rising

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On The Rising, there were subtle signs of rust coming from both Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, as they tried to make an album together for the first time in 20 years. New producer Brendan O’Brien was also finding his way, trying to figure out how to modernize the band without diluting the essence of what made them so special. Most of these flaws were overlooked at the time as everyone concentrated on the power and timeliness of Springsteen’s 9/11 theme, but as time has passed they’re a bit easier to see.

A song like “The Fuse” is an example of this off-kilter feeling. It’s a pretty bold experiment that didn’t quite gel. Sporting a hip-hop style beat and droning instruments, both producer and artist seemed to be striving for a 21st-century blues feel, which isn’t such a bad idea. But Springsteen’s lyrics, which describe everything from funeral processions to midafternoon booty calls, are done no favors by the refrain, which seems to offer only a tangential connection to all of these incidents. “The fuse is burnin’,” he sings in monotone, as if reporting the day’s news, yet it doesn’t quite tie anything together.

There are a few inspired moments, both in the lyrics and arrangement. On an album that stuck mostly to heartbreak and uplift, “The Fuse” is one of the only instances of indignation to be found, especially when Springsteen sings “Tell me Baby, who do you trust?” That can be taken at a personal level, or it could be taken as an early indication of Springsteen’s call to keep one eye on our protectors even while we guard vigilantly against the enemy.

The musical highpoint comes in the stark final verse, which removes all of the trappings save the insistent beat and the emotionless voice describing a scene of seduction. Suddenly everything falls away and Springsteen, a cappella, drones out ambivalently “Your bittersweet taste is on my tongue.” It’s a chilling moment that hints at the potential of this ambitious track, potential that is never quite realized.

Song 179: “57 Channels (And Nothin’ On)”
Album: Human Touch

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That’s Springsteen doing the honors on the bass, setting the moody yet tongue-in-cheek tone on one of the more well-known songs from Human Touch. The man deserves credit for poking fun at his lavish lifestyle and his new West Coast digs. Of course, that was the last thing that most diehard Boss fans wanted to hear.

It’s quaint now to imagine a time when 57 channels represented a massive amount to anyone. For heaven’s sake, I have about four times that many available on my satellite service, and I have the basic package. I think the deluxe package allows you to view the inner workings of the human brain of every person on the planet. And you get Showtime too.

Of course, the man had more on his mind than his remote. The song is a jab at the emptiness of materialism, but in truth the problems of a man living in a “bourgeois house in the Hollywood Hills” could never impact the majority of his fans who are card-carrying proletariats.

I was at a concert in New Jersey on the Other Band tour and heard the fans boo, yes, boo Springsteen when he mentioned his home in Cali. There was a feeling of betrayal in the air, even though the predictably great performance had won them over again long before the last encore.

That harsh reaction, unfair or not, reveals the problem with “57 Channels.” The song may have resonated with Springsteen at the time, but it never had a chance with the faithful.

Song 178: “Maria’s Bed”
Album: Devils & Dust

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Do you want the good news or the bad news? Well, I’m writing this thing, so you don’t really have a choice in the matter and you’re getting the good first. The good news with “Maria’s Bed”: The pretty acoustic guitars that kick off the song and those catchy “na-na-na-ny” backing vocals.

The bad news: Springsteen’s curious decision to sing the song with an accent borrowed off a 19th-century prospector. I half-expected a few “dagnabits” or “consarnits” to sneak out in the lyrics.

More good: The sentiment is a sweet one. Springsteen plays a humble guy here who lives modestly and has struggled at times, but it matters not at the end of the day once he reaches the titular location and finds salvation in the arms of a good woman. Not a brand new sentiment, I admit, but a sweet one nonetheless.

More bad: The song is never quite as charming once the drums kick in, breaking the acoustic spell.

Overall, it’s a wash. The song, found on Devils & Dust, isn’t in the same ballpark with his best, but it’s OK filler.

Song 177: “Man's Job”
Album: Human Touch

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Ever willing to share the spotlight, Springsteen unburdens some of the vocal load for this Human Touch track and hands it off to Bobby King and Sam Moore (of Sam & Dave fame). Their vocal interplay really doesn’t bring much to the table, as Moore is pretty much relegated to a few belts in the fade-out, alhtough it gives a little variety to a relatively generic track.

The main groove, built on Springsteen’s guitar riff and Jeff Porcaro’s crashing beat, is catchy but doesn’t have a lot of teeth.The Boss seems to be going for a Roy Orbison or Del Shannon drama-rock vibe, but he’s done that sort of thing better. As a matter of fact, he does it much better on the very same album with “I Wish I Were Blind.”

The lyrics fall into the same mediocre category. They’re OK in a sing-along way but have very little meat on their bones. Some critics took aim at what they perceived was an overly macho vibe, but in reality the protagonist isn’t exactly in a position of power in the song.He’s actually the guy trying to pry the girl away, but I could see where the confusion was, given the title and a few ill-chosen lines.

The best the song has to offer is some nice guitar interplay in the instrumental break, with Bruce alternating between stinging stabs and moaning cries on his instrument. That section nicely illustrates the tough-and-tender vibe that the rest of the song depicts in a much clumsier fashion.

Song 176: “All That Heaven Will Allow”
Album: Tunnel of Love

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Up to this point in the countdown, my reactions to most of the songs I’ve listed would be “Meh.” I wouldn’t miss any of these too much if I didn’t hear them for a while. Some work well in the context of their respective albums, but don’t quite stand out on their own. And some just don’t work at all for me.

But from here on out, I can genuinely say that I like every one of the songs to come on the list and enjoy hearing them. That says something about the quality of the Springsteen catalog, considering we’re only about 12 percent of the way into it. That’s a pretty good batting average.

“All That Heaven Will Allow,” which borrows its title from a 1950’s romance flick starring Rock Hudson (All That Heaven Allows) takes a far more positive view of romance than most of the songs on Tunnel Of Love. Bruce plays a suitor who may not be the smoothest (witness his botched attempt to get into a bar in verse two), but has his heart in the right place.

Notice how the guy undercuts the kind of rebellious, James Dean fantasies of rock and roll in the final verse: “Now some may wanna die young man/Young and gloriously/Get it straight now mister/Hey buddy that ain’t me.” No, all this guy wants is the love of his life.

The clicky drums of Max Weinberg and the defanged guitars here veer a little too close to adult contemporary for my taste, although I suppose it fits with this song. “All That Heaven Will Allow” is a testament to the best that romance has to offer; the rest of Tunnel Of Love is more like All That Hell Can Throw At You.

Song 175: “Night”
Album: Born to Run

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No, Born to Run is not completely filled with stone-cold, unassailable classics. Most of it is, but there are one or few drop-off points and “Night” is one of them.

That’s not to say the song doesn’t have something to offer. It’s got a nice kick to it and it gets to its point and gets out again before it wears out its welcome. Garry Tallent’s bass injects some subtle bounce into a track that’s otherwise all momentum right up until the Big Man’s final sax note. And Bruce balances the most prosaic set of lyrics on the record with just enough darkness and desperation to make it a good fit with all of the glorious, yet ambivalent, odes to nightlife elsewhere on the album.

It’s nowhere near the quality level of the warhorses all around it, but that’s not such a bad thing. One more anthem might have tipped the balance of the album, pushing it past anthemic and into indulgent. As it is, “Night” provides a needed breather from the long, ambitious masterpieces and succeeds, albeit on its own very modest terms.

Song 174: “Crush on You”
Album: The River

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Anyone who’s ever listened to Steven Van Zandt’s syndicated radio show knows that the man has a serious affinity for the Rolling Stones. Maybe a little bit of that rubbed off on The Boss on this track from The River, which definitely has an early 70’s Stones vibe to it. In particular it sounds a little like “Happy” without the horns. Both songs are propelled by chimey and grimy rhythm guitars.

Bruce’s lyrics are purposely over-the-top, and he yelps them at the top of his screech as if he had a vendetta against his larynx. The song is an ode to instant attraction and the dedication to act on that attraction consequences be damned. Springsteen even admits to the possible pitfalls: “She’s probably got a lousy personality.”

But his willpower is no match for this femme fatale. In the final verse, Max Weinberg double-times his drums to mimic a quickened pulse as Bruce comes to his conclusion. The whole affair is a tad manic, but it’s a fun diversion that provides a good showcase for the endearingly corny sense of humor of its composer. Sheena of the Jungle, indeed.

Song 173: “Reno”
Album: Devils & Dust

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Hey now, Bruce! What’s this all about? I turn on a Springsteen record and I get a Vivid Video instead. (Not that I’ve seen a Vivid Video project, umm, you know, I’ve heard about them, from the, umm, the Internet, yes, that’s it! No, I’m not squirming.)

Actually, the sex in “Reno” is a distraction from the main issue of the song, which is the narrator’s regret over mistakes made with his true love Maria (a very popular Bruce song name, by the way). The sex is described with such graphic precision that it nearly overwhelms the subtlety of the middle section, in which his memories provide the romance his current situation lacks.

It’s a nifty job Bruce does of switching from scene to scene, and it would have been even better had he not chosen to sing the song like Jim Varney. (“Hey Vern, got me a prostitute.”) But we’ll leave that quibble for the dialogue coach.

Best instead to concentrate on that killer closing line, when the main character, spent but unfulfilled, reveals to the cocky working girl where his heart truly lies: “It wasn’t the best I ever had/Not even close.”

Song 172: “Tomorrow Never Knows”
Album: Working on a Dream

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One of the best things about the latest Springsteen offering, Working On A Dream, is the way that it dares to sound un-Springsteenlike at times. Not to say that there’s anything wrong with the signature E Street Band sound, but it doesn’t always suit something as gentle and unassuming as “Tomorrow Never Knows,” a little snapshot of a song whose only real ambition is to sound pleasant.

It achieves that thanks to Brendan O’Brien’s nice production flourishes. What starts out as a pretty straight take on Dylan mid-60s-era folk pop (Max’s opening snare taps call to mind “I Want You” almost eerily) becomes something a bit more lush and unpredictable. The strings are countrypolitan, the horns are border town, and the fluttering keyboard effects of Patrick Warren are pure whimsy.

All of those touches are necessary, because the song itself is pretty lightweight. The title, borrowed from the Beatles psychedelic classic, is used here in a more straightforward manner to suggest the unpredictability of the future, hence the necessity to act in the present.

It’s not exactly an original thought, but Bruce still draws charm from it. “Tomorrow Never Knows” draws its modest allure from the daring fact that you’d never know who the performer is until the moment he opens his mouth to sing.

Song 171: “Leap Of Faith”
Album: Lucky Town

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Easy-going and good-hearted, “Leap Of Faith” isn’t the most ambitious recording to come down the pike, and the lyrics are a bit strained at times with their offbeat comparisons running the gamut from baseball to Biblical. The gospel sweep of the chorus is a nice touch though, and it’s far catchier than much of the rest of either one of Bruce’s dual 1992 releases.

Without much more to say about the otherwise nondescript song, let me admit that I’ve always misheard the lyrics to this Lucky Town offering. In the first verse Bruce sings, “So I grabbed you baby like a wild pitch,” referring to an errant toss by a baseball hurler. It took my reading the lyric sheet in research for this project to discover this, because I always thought that the Boss was singing “like a wild bitch.”

Had Bruce blamed the catcher and called it a “passed ball,” it would have been much clearer (although it might have taken on a bizarre connotation). Still, I’d like to hereby apologize to Bruce for assuming that he wrote a lyric that could be interpreted as either misogynistic or anti-dog. My bad.

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