Bruce Springsteen isn't as identified with being a social crusader as say ... Bono. (There's no Can Bruce Save the World? Time magazine cover). But that doesn't mean that The Boss doesn't give deep thought to world issues.

Whether it's a sad tale of two Mexican immigrants caught up in a methamphetamine ring, reflections on a suicide bomber or the contrast of a Houston family being out on the streets while the oil barons thrive, Songs 110-101 in the Ultimate Springsteen Countdown do not pull any punches. Of course, Bruce also gets silly on Adam and Eve and a Pink Cadillac.

And yes, we've reached the cusp of the Top 100 Springsteen songs ever.

Song 110: “Sinaloa Cowboys”

Album: The Ghost of Tom Joad

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One of the saddest songs on an album full of ‘em, Sinaloa Cowboys is still much more than just a downer. It’s a tale of familial bonds that remain strong in the face of both poverty and tragedy, and it’s a song that manages social commentary while telling a human story first and foremost.

Two brothers make their way North from Mexico and find jobs in which they are little more than indentured servants working in a field. When an offer of easy money comes, they forget to heed the advice their father gave them upon leaving: “For everything the north gives it exacts a price in return.” It turns out that their new job is cooking methamphetamine for drug dealers in the Sinaloa cartel, a job as dangerous as it is lucrative.

The lovely but melancholy melody should tell you right off the bat that things are not going to end well. Indeed, an explosion claims one’s life, his brother carrying him tenderly to a creek as his life ebbs out. The real tear-jerk comes when he uses the spot where they had hidden all of their ill-gotten cash as his brother’s final resting place, giving him a final kiss before he places him in the grave.

Springsteen sings the lyrics in a fragile and tender voice, the reality of this awful situation almost too much to bear. He gives these characters a dignity that they might not have been lent in real life, where they would have been condemned as just another pair of drug dealers. And, on a lighter note, he also gets credit for not only knowing what Hydriodic acid is but also for working into the meter of the lyrics. Nicely done, Bruce.

Song 109: “Seeds”
Album: Live 1975-85

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Many of Springsteen’s songs have dealt with the unfortunate truth that the American Dream stays nothing more than a distant reverie for some. Even those who work hard to provide for their families still end up without the basic necessities of human existence through no fault of their own. Some of the characters that fill these songs just end up defeated; others channel their frustration into criminal activities as a last resort.

“Seeds” is one of the few that fit this category, however, where the afflicted character voices his anger so powerfully, even if it does him little good. Maybe that’s why Bruce has resurrected this song in performance of late; impotent rage seems to be the prevalent emotion coming from those most affected by the economic upheaval.

Springsteen’s narrator reveals his problem only after first relating the story of the oil baron who struck it rich, setting up the paradox between the haves and have-nots with ruthless efficiency. He and his family are living in the streets, the children getting sick in the Houston winter. His anger finally boils over when he threatens to spit on the shiny car passing him by in the night, his futility evident. He hints at a more ominous outcome when he advises a stranger to buy a shotgun rather than attempt to find a home.

It’s a grueling, seething tale, and the gritty riff that propels the song, which is reminiscent of the Talking Heads’ version of “Take Me To The River,” gets down and dirty with it. The one unfortunate aspect is that the official version of the song, on Live 1975-85, is hampered by synths that were all the rage at the time but now sound seriously dated.

But, in the end, even they can’t bury the helpless rage nor the chilling final image of “seeds blowin’ up the highway in the south wind.”

Song 108: “Living Proof”
Album: Lucky Town

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The last thing Bruce Springsteen probably expected as his first marriage fell apart in the late '80s was that he would become a father. But, as another well-known rock dad once said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

“Living Proof” is the song that Bruce wrote to tell the world about this crazy transformation in his life, and in many ways the song is the centerpiece of his 1992 album Lucky Town. He handles all instruments himself save Roy Bittan’s keyboards, creating a sturdy if somewhat non-descript background for his musings on being a proud papa. The melody is strong, though, and the vocal captures a little bit of everything that goes along with becoming a first-time dad: The pride, the fear, the love, the concern.

The only thing missing might be the fatigue, unless Patti was in charge of all of the wee-hours feedings.

The line “It was all the beauty I could take” perfectly nails that overwhelming feeling of love at first sight from father to child. But Bruce, being Bruce, also reflects on the mess that he had made of his life before “God’s mercy” pulled him out of it. A songwriter isn’t always the most trustworthy autobiographer, but some of the lines reveal that Springsteen had fallen to a depth his fans could never have imagined: “I crawled deep into some kind of darkness/Lookin’ to burn out every trace of who I’ve been.”

Springsteen owns up to big changes in the final verse, realizing that the boulevard, which produced so many of his classic characters and songs, is no place for a man to grow old. In the end he finds comfort in hearth and home, sharing a bed with his wife and son.

It’s a moving and powerful moment, a tender glimpse of the man underneath the rock star finding his true place in the world was far from the stage.

Song 107: “Out in the Street”
Album: The River

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There are many great things about The River, Bruce’s sprawling 1980 double-album, but, for my money, the very best aspect of it is that it captures the E Street band at the absolute peak of their powers. They had been a unit for about five years at the time, had been honed by their huge tours and marathon shows, and had found a chemistry which few rock bands could hope to claim.

What’s more, Springsteen was writing songs that played to that chemistry. These songs didn’t rely so much on the wordiness of past efforts. They were constructed with the band in mind. “Out In The Streets” is one such number. It’s become a well-regarded live staple, but it’s blistering just as it is in its original form.

A big part of the aforementioned chemistry came from Steve Van Zandt’s inimitable presence, the way he would make subtle contributions and suggestions based on his years of experience and musical knowledge that even Bruce had to envy. On this song, though, Van Zandt steps into the spotlight for some great harmonies with Bruce.

Neither singer is schooled in a formal way, so they both go for their notes with everything they have. Those voices are like a personality with two ids. But what really comes through when they join, as in this song, is the bond of friendship.

The rest of the band is in fine form as well. Roy Bittan bangs out the riffs, the rhythm section has a great sway going, and of course Clarence gets into the act. The song has hit single written all over it, especially considering the subject matter, which most listeners could easily relate to. Bruce apparently thought the song a bit slight, which may be why it was held back from being released as a single.

I can sort of see his point, but he might have underestimated his band.

They clearly can elevate any material, and the jolt of excitement that they give “Out in the Street” is the perfect parallel to the way you feel when the whistle blows on Friday at 5 (even if it’s just the internal whistle in your head instead of an actual whistle). Hell, maybe if you’re really lucky, you might spend part of your weekend at a Springsteen show.

Song 106: “Used Cars”
Album: Nebraska

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One of the most fascinating about Nebraska was that it freed Springsteen to write about his own life experiences, unafraid to reveal either himself, or, in the case of “Used Cars," his past for all the world to hear. These tender moments of reflection, as interspersed with the tales of characters pushed to crime and worse due to their circumstances, make for an interesting comparison. In other words, there, but for the grace of his guitar, went Bruce Springsteen.

Bruce tells the story here through details: His mother playing with her wedding band as if she can magically transform her husband with a proper twist, the salesman eyeing up his customer’s hands on the steering wheel looking for signs that he has him on the hook, the neighbors stepping outside to gawk and gossip at the family that can’t afford a better automobile.

Of course, Bruce rose above this situation and likely didn’t have any used cars in his garage by the time of this song’s release. But scars like that never fade. As his harmonica whines into the blackness at song’s end, it’s clear that the prideful little boy was always seething somewhere inside of him, the God-forsaken car horn haunting him still.

Song 105: “Pink Cadillac”
Album: Tracks

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Springsteen-mania was so strong in the mid-1980s that even his B-sides started to get a lot of attention. Thus it was that this track, left off Born In the USA in favor of “I’m Goin’ Down,” still found its way to radio and lots of listeners. It’s a bit of a novelty, but it’s so much fun that it’s hard to resist.

The funny thing is that the song was actually demo-ed during the Nebraska sessions. Boy, would it have stuck out had it ended up there. Springsteen eventually worked up an arrangement featuring a guitar lick that borrows a little from Elvis (fitting, considering Elvis drove a pink caddy himself) and a lot from Henry Mancini’s iconic theme for the cop show Peter Gunn.

Max Weinberg’s gunshot snares and Clarence’s bluesy sax moans add to the film-noir feel.

The lyrics feature The Boss at his funniest. He inventively imagines Eve tooling around in the titular car to catch Adam’s eye in the Garden of Eden. Then he throws in some innuendo-laden boasts to counter anyone who would denigrate his ride: “But my love is bigger than a Honda/Yeah it’s bigger than a Subaru.”

Springsteen draws the through-line between sex, rock and roll, and automobiles in pretty broad strokes here, but he creates such a catchy concoction that you’ll find yourself grooving while you blush.

Song 104: “Paradise”
Album: The Rising

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Hey, let’s face it, “Paradise” ain’t the kind of song you program into your iPod in your Feel-Good mix. It is heartbreaking and difficult and really slaps you in the face with a reality you might not want to confront. It is also necessary and a pretty powerful artistic achievement. And, if you open your mind to it, you can find yourself unexpectedly moved.

Springsteen’s willingness to identify with a suicide bomber certainly bucked the trend of sentiment in his home country at the time of the song’s release on The Rising. The bravery of that stance is backed up by the deftness with which he tackles the subject matter. There isn’t an ounce of judgment on his part, just details and emotions.

The first verse appears to tell the tale of a young suicide bomber, prepared for his duties by what seems to be a parent. In the second, we’re back in the States with an unidentified person dreaming of a lost loved one.

In the final verse, it’s unclear who is telling the story, maybe neither, maybe both. What is clear is that there is great loss for all involved, and the parallels drawn don’t provide any answers as to why such a tragedy needed to occur. The fact that Bruce did his job so well likely mitigated any controversy; all he was doing was insisting on portraying the “bad guys” as human beings.

The music on “Paradise” is atmospheric and weightless, somewhat reminiscent of Mark Knopler’s moodier work with Dire Straits. Springsteen’s melody is always rising, rising toward a salvation that can ease the sorrow of the tortured souls on display here. The fact that so many of the differences that led to 9/11 come down to the methods of reaching that salvation is why songs like “Paradise,” though not a lot of fun, are integral artistic endeavors.

Song 103: “Murder Incorporated”
Album: Greatest Hits

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I remember when I first heard this song upon its release in 1995 as part of Bruce’s first official Greatest Hits package that I thought that the E Street Band sounded pretty damn great and at the top of their game considering that they hadn’t played together for almost a decade. Little did I know at the time that the song was actually one of the 7,000 or that Bruce put to tape during the sessions for Born In The USA.

Even if it wasn’t fresh, it was an excellent choice to reintroduce the world to the band. All of the swagger and brio that ooze out of their best performances are evident here. There’s also more than a bit of menace, augured by the stinging four-note riff that provides the bedrock for the entire song. The band’s street-gang backing vocals are an irresistible touch, like a Greek chorus providing the accents for Bruce’s tough lyrics.

Those lyrics are a bit vague for my taste, drifting from one story to the next aimlessly. Springsteen was trying to get at the culture of violence, but that gets lost in the thunder of the music. And, with its sing-along nature, “Murder Incorporated” comes close to glorifying the very thing it’s meant to denigrate.

Still, with the band sounding this good, it’s difficult to nitpick. Just crank it up, and let the “Whoa-ohhs” carry you away.

Song 102: “Magic”
Album: Magic

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After he stumped hard for John Kerry in the 2004 presidential election, the Bush administration might have thought it was out of Springsteen’s crosshairs for a while. But much of 2007’s Magic was a diatribe, if often veiled, against the hypocrisy Bruce perceived to be running rampant among our nation’s leaders. The title track might have been the most cutting of all.

Bruce plays the role of a magician whose motives may be more sinister than most. The innocent sleight-of-hand at the start of the song gives way to darker tricks down the road: “I’ll cut you in half/While you’re smiling ear-to-ear”. All of the shop talk leads to the terrifying scene at song’s conclusion: “There’s bodies hangin’ in the trees.”

Give credit to producer Brendan O’Brien for creating an old-time feel that fits well with the hackneyed magician’s patter that Bruce spits out. But the woozy keyboards and minor-key mandolins and violins also hint at the unease and darkness that Bruce wants to convey. It’s an excellent marriage of lyrics and music.

So how do you prevent against such insidious magic? Ultimately, Bruce puts the onus on the listener to be on guard: “Trust none of what you hear/And less of what you see.”

Song 101: “I'm a Rocker”
Album: The River

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Springsteen’s hambone humor is in full effect in this hilarious statement of purpose off The River. He’s often touched on the dangers of relying on cultural icons instead of real people for comfort, but here he takes them all on in one fell swoop. Not Kojak, not Bond, not even Batman can hold a candle to The Boss. (How did the Six Million Dollar man get left out of that group anyway?)

The music is a blast of adrenaline. Max Weinberg’s walloping beat sets the tone, but it’s the keyboardists who really shine. Roy Bittan had to have broken a string or two recording his pounding piano part, and Danny Federici struts through his solo in complete control of the proceedings.

At the heart of all the comic rescues and shameless boasting is a rather sweet, simple promise to a girl that he’ll be there for her even in the darkest times. If it takes roughing up a few superheroes along the way, well, a rock star’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.

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