Song 160: “Black Cowboys”
Album: Devils & Dust

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Nobody loves a good sad song more than I do. But there is something about “Black Cowboys” that is just too painfully sad. On an objective level I think it’s one of the finer songs on Devils & Dust, a fully realized production filled with acoustic guitar, tasteful piano and understated, but effective production.

The lyrics are much smoother than on some of Bruce’s story songs, and he sings it without a hint of the gnarled accent that mars some of this material.

But, oh, that story just breaks your heart. The saga of Rainey Williams, a mama’s boy who loses that mama to her own weakness, just kills me. When he wordlessly says good-bye to her at her bedside by simply brushing her hair aside and kissing her eyes, well, it’s just brutal, man. And his loneliness at song’s end as he rides a train under an unforgiving moon is palpable.

The thought of an innocent bereft of a mother’s unconditional love doesn’t just pluck at the heartstrings, it stomps on them.

Springsteen’s tactics with these songs is to humanize the characters with sharp details in order to shed light on the bigger picture, and he achieves that well enough here. But, honestly, I can listen to “Black Cowboys” maybe a once a year.

I need that long in between just to recover.

Song 159: “I'll Work For Your Love”
Album: Magic

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Is there any other instrumentalist as instrumental to the sound of Bruce’s band as Roy Bittan? Clarence Clemons presence is unmistakable, Stevie Van Zandt and Max Weinberg have the high profiles, and the band has always been greater than the sum of its parts because of its street-gang swagger. Still, Bittan’s piano is at the heart of the E Street sound, and I don’t think any of the other band members would argue that too vehemently.

That piano is the sweetener that draws ears to some of Bruce’s more complex, wordy compositions. This track on Magic is just one example; Bittan’s opening is chill-inducing, recalling the history of so many band classics while still managing to stake out fresh territory.

It sets up the melody and a catchy chorus, compensating for Bruce’s lyrical imagery, which is a tad too intense here. At its core, the song is an ode to devotion and how the mysteries of the world are revealed in the simple details of a woman’s body. But all of the verbosity strains a bit to fit into the 60’s-rock frame of the song. Better is the workmanlike refrain, which is effective in a direct way.

It’s no great blight on the song, though, to say that it goes downhill once that piano intro gives way to the rest of the band. It’s more a compliment to the wondrous work of The Professor, Mr. Roy Bittan.

Song 158: “Good Eye”
Album: Working on a Dream

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Much of Working on a Dream is devoted to the florid pop music and pretty melodies that enticed Springsteen as a youth. But “Good Eye” ain’t florid and it ain’t pretty. It’s as bluesy as the band has gotten in their 2000s output.

The lyrics are kept to a minimum here, just three verses which consist of one line repeated, in blues fashion, followed by the ominous refrain, “I had my good eye to the dark and my blind eye to the sun.” Bruce yelps them as if he’s calling out through a rusty megaphone, creating a nifty effect that gives a pretty straightforward track some flavor.

Other distinguishing characteristics includes Bruce’s sampled shriek at the start of each musical line, some fiery harmonica, also courtesy of the Boss, and what sounds like a saloon piano. The band plays the heck out of the song, treating it like an A side rather than the somewhat inconsequential lark it is. It is a good excuse for the band to get down and dirty after cleaning up so nice for the rest of the album.

Song 157: “Let’s Be Friends (Skin to Skin)”
Album: The Rising

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Coming directly after a run of dark, even harrowing, songs on The Rising, “Let’s Be Friends” sounds like it was accidentally placed on the album in some sort of pressing mishap. Starting with a hip-hop beat and some lush keyboards, it is definitely on the lighter side of the spectrum for that release.

Thus it is that it sounds pretty alluring in that context, especially when the refrain kicks in with those sweet harmonies. Elsewhere, Springsteen actually trades lines in the chorus with Soozie Tyrell, making it one of the closest approximations of a boy-girl duet in the Boss’ history.

Essentially a plea for a little sexual healing, the song does get mired in a rut by the end; Bruce sings “Let’s be friends” so often that you get the feeling the girl might agree just to get him off her back. But, as out-of-left-field diversions go, it’s harmless fun.

Song 156: “Spare Parts”
Album: Tunnel of Love

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“Bobby said he’d pull out and Bobby stayed in/Janey had a baby and it wasn’t any sin.” So begins “Spare Parts.” That unflinching opening, surrounded by some back-porch acoustic guitar and squawking harmonica, creates a lot of expectations which the remainder of the song only partially fills.

Bruce sets the scene effectively, building up anticipation with pinpoint descriptions (“Mist was on the water, low run the tide”). Alas, I’ve never bought the ending, in which Janey second-guesses her decision to pull a Moses and send her baby adrift. Instead she goes home and hawks Bobby’s engagement ring. That always felt more Hollywood tidy than psychologically accurate to this hombre, rendering the song a bit more trivial than the subject matter warrants.

The acoustic opening also outshines the electric remainder, which has a bit of a tinny sound that hampers its impact. Bruce does get to let loose for a feral guitar solo at the end which expresses a rage that the happy ending squelches. “Spare Parts” is an excellent set of lyrics that don’t quite come together, a near-miss that still displays Springsteen’s prodigious songwriting gifts.

Song 155: “It's Hard to Be a Saint in the City”
Album: Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J.

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This song holds a special place in Springsteen lore because it was one of the tracks he played in his legendary audition for John Hammond in 1972 that earned him his recording contract. (Some accounts claim it was the first.) There is no doubting that the talent was already there by the bushelful, although this song makes it clear that it still needed some molding.

“Saint” betrays the fact that it was written lyrics-first; as often happens in songs like that, the melody is an afterthought. There’s not even a real hook to grab you. It just sort of rumbles along, hampered by the muddy production prevalent on Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J. The drums sound muffled, the acoustic guitar disappears early, and the bass never comes through clear. Only David Sancious’ tinkling piano asserts itself throughout the entire track.

But the lyrics are undeniably great, a patchwork of quotable lines that still add up to tell a memorable story. There is an undercurrent of melancholy amidst all the braggadocio. Notice that much of the tale is told in the past tense, as if the streets that the narrator owns throughout the song finally pushed him to the brink, to the point where he can see the toll it’s taken. The first two verses show the player at the top of his game, but the final stanza leading into the chorus, now in the present, depicts the losers, zombified subway denizens clinging to the rails.

Springsteen’s narrator seems to have made it out before meeting his fate, but it’s clear that, for a guy who would romanticize the streetlife so well in the years to come, Bruce could already see the downside.

Song 154: “When You’re Alone”
Album: Tunnel of Love

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So much of Tunnel of Love consists of songs portraying the things that break a relationship apart. “When You’re Alone,” the penultimate track on that album, shows the couple after the bomb has dropped, sifting through the detritus and searching for the truth.

What the Boss’ character finds here is the realization that maybe all the little things that tore them apart weren’t worth the resulting drama, because, as the chorus bluntly puts it, “When you’re alone you ain’t nothin’ but alone.” All of the bitterness and “hard feelings” are gone; left behind is hard-earned wisdom and a hint of forgiveness. Bruce even tosses in what seems like autobiography in the second verse to drive his message home.

I just wish the track could have been a little less sleepy. Playing all the instruments himself, Bruce lays the organ on thick and washes everything else but the vocals out. Take the keyboards on the fade-out of “My Hometown,” multiply them by five, and you get the picture. Only the sweetly sad refrains, aided by backing vocalists Patti Scialfa, Clarence Clemons, and Nils Lofgren, stand above it all.

Musical limitations aside, “When You’re Alone” is a mature testament to the irony of realizing what’s most important only after it’s gone.

Song 153: “My Lucky Day”
Album: Working on a Dream

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Even if it’s a little bit paint-by-numbers E Street Band, Bruce and the gang play “My Lucky Day” with such enthusiasm that you can forgive the formulaic nature of it all. It’s just wonderful to hear them still able to rip out material like this after all these years. Check out the relative lifelessness of similarly-themed Springsteen tracks from the early 90’s for a comparison.

It’s all there from the get-go: The snap of Max Weinberg’s drums, the propulsive gusto of Garry Tallent’s bass, and Roy Bittan, charging hard through the gaps with his piano chords. By the time you get to Clarence’s brief blast in the bridge, it’s all gravy. You’ve already been transported to rock heaven via that humble yet prodigious thoroughfare known as E Street.

The lyrics are just your typical love-conquers-all sentiments, with some of the autumnal shadows that hang over Working on a Dream seeping into the mix. The melody is buoyant enough to let the bright colors of the music shine through radiantly. Early on in his career, Bruce often had excellent tracks hidden by poor recordings; here is a case of the opposite, a relatively pedestrian song raised to another level by the chemistry of his backing group.

Song 152: “Soul Driver”
Album: Human Touch

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If you can get by some of the elements that Bruce tries to shoehorn into the mix here, you’ll find a hidden gem in this forgotten song off Human Touch. Why Bruce felt the need to add the distracting clanking percussion is a mystery; the same could be said for the odd flute-like sound effects peppered throughout.

Only the soulful organ work of old buddy David Sancious hits home. It’s the proper backdrop for Bruce’s gut-wrenching ruminations on love and loss. The imagery is razor-sharp. Listen to this killer opening: “Rode through forty nights of the gospels’ rain/Black sky pourin’ snakes frogs and love in vain.”

Elsewhere, Bruce urges on his companion to pull together, the future be damned: “Does fortune wait or just the black hand of fate/This love potion’s all we’ve got/One toast before it’s too late.” It doesn’t matter if they go down, as long as they go down together: “Here’s to our destruction.” If only the mediocre backing track didn’t threaten to overwhelm all else, “Soul Driver” might be more than a worthy obscurity.

Song 151: “Drive All Night”
Album: The River

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Anyone who’s ever seen Bruce Springsteen live knows that he understands the power of repetition. He can stretch a line of music out indefinitely, slowly and subtly building on it with incremental variations in volume from the band. When they break out of that rut into a new section of the song, it’s an exhilarating moment.

He tries something similar on his recording of “Drive All Night” off The River. The song drags out for over eight minutes, and it’s essentially the same basic structure throughout — spare to begin with some extra touches coming in like some sumptuous organ and soulful saxophone. But, basically, you’ve got Max Weinberg and Garry Tallent locked into a slow groove, and Bruce testifying on top.

I suppose you’re feelings for the song depends on how much you like this sort of construction.

It does have a certain raw power to it, especially toward the end when Bruce lays it all on the line with some braying vocals. Those vocals are deliberately unschooled, the perfect way to portray his characters' powerful emotions. The moving tunnel vision of Springsteen’s protagonist, who focuses in on his love in the face of all the distractions, the “fallen angels,” the “calling strangers,” waiting in the street to do them harm, is even more poignant when you consider that he doesn’t even have her any more, according to the first line of the song.

My, does it go on though. Some true believers get off on this stuff, but I could have lived with a shortened take just fine. Just because he’s willing to drive all night to get to his girl, it doesn’t mean we have to be with him for the whole trip.

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