In an article entitled "Why It's Impossible to Talk to a Liberal" (Los Angeles Times, February 19, 2012), Charlotte Allen prefaced a point by referencing "the leftist novelist E.L. Doctorow".
The leftist novelist. Wow.
E.L. Doctorow has written nearly a dozen novels. He's also published four short story collections, one play, and about a half dozen collections of essays. One would think all of his published works were printed on cheapo, ink-smeared, pre-Gorbachev newsprint, the greige covers all stamped with a hammer and sickle, and that every plot was a thinly-veiled, cobbled together apology for Stalin. In other words, a hack. Not someone to be taken seriously.
Allen's argument with Doctorow? He wrote an "incendiary anti-George W. Bush op-ed piece" wherein he painted the former president as being uncaring. A friend of hers passed along the piece to Allen in an email, who right away sniffed out an error. "It was not 40% but 40 million Americans--more like 15%--who lacked health insurance for various reasons."
Which completely refutes Doctorow's silly idea that Bush was indifferent to people being uninsured. Well, actually not. In fact, Allen's huffy "correction" kind of doubles down on Bush's alleged indifference and raises to to a level that would have embarrassed Richard Nixon, who at least made a pro-business stab at getting Americans health insurance. (Nice bit, by the way, Allen's "for various reasons". She didn't cite any particular reasons why people didn't have health insurance, but reading between the lines something tells me shiftlessness played a part. People making "poor choices". Or this country being full of proud rugged indivualists who would never accept it.)
Only forty million, silly Doctorow. Not forty percent, you foolish leftists.
It's into this climate, this toxic hurricane of heartlessness that has enveloped the country's political discourse, Bruce Springsteen has dropped his album Wrecking Ball.
"Masterpiece" sounds too much like a lazy critic word. I would take it beyond that adjective and describe it as Elemental. Essential.
Wrecking Ball is an aural GPS that describes exactly where we've been, how we got here, and, hallelujah, how the fuck to get the hell out.
I, too, got my hackles up a bit over the first single title, We Take Care of Our Own. Wondered what that was about because American most emphatically does not. (Did I mention the writer who was cool with America only having 15% uninsured instead of 40%?) I worried that it was going to be another Born in the USA situation wherein the song's feel-good title (and Bruce's imprimateur) might place it in the wrong hands. You'd think after all these years I could trust Bruce. We Take Care of Our Own is much more nuanced than it's title, and is an excellent way to start the conversation.
What really works for me is the dazzling use of genre-hopping, all employed in the service of telling this American story. There's a great gospel feel in Land of Hope and Dreams, complete with Curtis Mayfield's People Get Ready. (And Oh, Clarence, how we miss you!) Jon Stewart must have been thinking of the Celtic stomper Death to My Hometown when telling Springsteen (Rolling Stone magazine, March 29, 2012), "There are songs on here that feel like you and the Chieftains went out for a beer, and you decided to go kick it."
(Secret wish: The next GOP debate: No questions. Just have the remaining guys sit on a stage and the audience observes them as the sound systems blasts out Death to My Hometown. Which candidate would listen intently? Which would nod to that heartbeat-primal, pagan beat? Would any of them "get" it? Or would they, upon hearing that all-too-true rant toward the end--genuine anger there, not some bullshit pissiness over percentages versus millions of hurting people--break out in a sweat and slyly make their way to the exit?)
And one can't give an overview of American music without some vintage Bruce Springsteen; Easy Money fills the bill there.
The jewel in the crown, I believe, is the title track. Rootsy and lyrical, gospel-tinged and raucous rock, rough and humane, Wrecking Ball is strong enough to carry not only the ambition of this album but can actually be invited to the club of Springsteen's Best Songs Ever.
What is it about?
I almost hear the first verse as a challenge to the president, a respectful urging of him to become a "champion" to stand up more to Wall Street on behalf of the people. Jesus cleaning out the Temple.
I hear the lyric "Hold tight to your anger [repeated several times] / Don't fall to your fears" as encouragement to the young people of OWS.
I hear the line [also repeared] "Hard times come / And hard times go" as encouragement to all of us in the 99% who are struggling, or if not personally struggling seeing our family members and neighbors and church friends and former co-workers clawing their way out of the dynamited shut caves George W. Bush and Wall Street left behind.
Even rave reviews are supposed to voice quibbles, but in protest of Piers Morgan's snide condescension of Davis Guggenheim, I shall not. (Note--some humans have actual beating hearts, and don't trade entirely and snark and oh-so-cool put-downs. Anyway, a graduate of the Rupert Murdoch School of Journalism really doesn't have the right to look down his nose on anyone.)
And did I hear of snippet of Appalachian Spring in Wrecking Ball? Tomorrow is the first day of spring, and this wondrous album brings us closer to an American Spring. Can't wait.
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