50 Years Burning Down the Road: Reviewing Every Springsteen Album From Worst to Best
Coming in at #10: The Rising
It has been a little while since my last review, and I appreciate everyone sticking with me and continuing to read and engage with my column. Wouldn’t you know it, we have reached the top ten. I already have people angry with me about my #20 to #11 rankings. I can imagine it will only get worse as ranking these ten albums, all of which I love so much, is a tall task to even appease myself let alone deal with the scrutiny of other hardcore fans. That is half the fun though. I enjoy any conversations or debates regarding Bruce, which is part of the reason I have embarked on this project. Plus, as I have said, the rankings just give me an order to write the reviews which are more significant than evaluating one album’s quality over another.
The Rising is a seminal album in Bruce’s catalog that has become entrenched in lore over the years giving it an aura that precedes the music. I believe generally that can diminish an album’s impact and can put a listener in a more cynical headspace, but that is not the case with The Rising. It actually works to the album’s advantage. I have chronicled the split between Bruce and the E Street Band in this series when Bruce decided to work with other musicians in the 90s. He reunited the band in 1999 for the Reunion Tour during which Bruce pledged “the rebirth and rededication of our band.” I spoke to my dad about this album and he mentioned that he knew that Bruce was going to continue playing with the E Street Band, but a couple of years passed and it soon became five years since Bruce released any new record—the longest intermittent between albums in his career. My dad hypothesized writer’s block, but as the band began sessions in Atlanta, it became a shining possibility that the first E Street Band album since 1987 may be on its way. The buzz caused by an E Street Band album on the horizon reinvigorated the love affair between the fans and the band and catapulted multiple astounding tours and great E Street albums over the last twenty years.
Shortly after the Reunion Tour, Bruce and the band entered the studio for sessions that produced recorded versions of “Land of Hope and Dreams” and “American Skin (41 Shots)” which were never officially released despite likely circulating in the gallows of the internet. Bruce writes in his book that these sessions were unsuccessful. The recordings fell flat on Bruce’s ears and he realized that maybe in the year 2001, he and the band did not know how to make a great record despite having quality songs.
The attacks of 9/11 followed these sessions. As the nation was healing from the grief, loss, and paranoia inflicted by the events, legend has it that while Bruce was in Sea Bright, NJ, an anonymous fan rolled down the window of his car and told Bruce, “We need you now.” This inspired Bruce to write several songs inspired by the aftermath of 9/11 that tapped into the heartbreak, dissonance, anger, and disconnect at the core of the nation at that time. The songs radiate empathy, love, intimacy, and redemption and became the crux of The Rising as a finished product.
After the fruitless 2001 sessions, Bruce and the band entered the studio once again with this series of new songs that Bruce wrote, plus several other songs written in years prior. Bruce brought in an outside producer for the first time in his career Brendan O’Brien, an engineer, mixer, multi-instrumentalist, and producer who worked with The Black Crowes, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Stone Temple Pilots, and Pearl Jam in the 1990s. They recorded in O’Brien’s Atlanta studio. The result was the E Street Band like no one had heard them before. Many songs featured Americana-inspired instrumentals with violins, dobros, mandolins, banjos, and pedal steel guitar which was uncharted territory for the band. It is also Bruce’s most experimental album to date with drum machines, loops, and atmospheric synthesizer pads. I have always admired how fearless this album is. I will write more about the lyrical end of that during the track rundown, but there were a lot of risks taken which is why many of The Rising’s weaker moments are still interesting. There was a lot of shit being thrown at the wall, so to speak, and much of it stuck, but some did not. Nevertheless, the album is anchored by typical top-notch songwriting and Bruce’s transformed yet righteous rock singing voice with beautiful falsetto. This is Bruce pushing himself creatively as an artist who had more than a full successful career up to that point which earns my respect. Sometimes when it all goes wrong (I am looking at you “Let’s Be Friends (Skin to Skin)”, the recordings are still endearing.
While the quality of songs is pretty consistent throughout the album’s one-hour and 12-minute runtime, the sequencing of the album is below par. That has always been my biggest problem with the album. The pacing and mood shifts are clunky. For example, “Waitin’ On A Sunny Day” is the wrong choice for track three following “Into the Fire” which is one of the darker songs on the album. “You’re Missing” and “The Rising” come way too late in the tracklist—especially the latter which is not only the title track, but the heartbeat of the album. It deserves a more significant spot on side A, and while I like Lonesome Day as an opener, perhaps “The Rising” would make an even better one. It has sort of been observed given that Bruce and the band opened most Rising Tour shows with “The Rising”. I have several other tweaks and changes that I would make. Recently, Bruce has looked back at the album and admitted it might be a bit bloated and that the tracklist could have used some work. While I agree, there are not many songs on the album which should be cut. That is why it lands here at #10 (which is a great slot!).
Here’s the rundown:
“Lonesome Day” opens the album with the E Street Band in full force and immediately casts the theme of hope and resilience that will be carried out throughout the tracklist. It details many Americans’ cognitive dissonance inflicted by the events of 9/11. No one thought that this type of deadly terrorist attack could happen and trusted that the United States had the proper systems and defense to protect its citizens fully. Bruce empathizes with people who were affected by the attacks and sums up their intense grief and anger while assuring himself and the rest of America that the debilitating struggle will pass and become easier to live with. Revenge is also mentioned in the song alluding to the war in Afghanistan which held a sheath of redemption that masked the war as a means to fight through the pain and go after the nations responsible for the attacks. Grieving Americans had navigated through their feelings about the war as well.
As I mentioned, “Lonesome Day” features the E Street Band at their most powerful, but in a way fans had not heard before. The opening track immediately features the addition of Soozie Tyrell’s violin and Nils Lofgren’s slide guitar. Max Weinberg pounds the drums, which are big and boomy in a bit of a dated way reminiscent of the 90s bands that Brendan O’Brien works with, but it does not take away from the mix. I do wish that there were more keyboards on the song to add a little bit of the classic E Street sound.
The Americana instrumentation continues to flow through “Into the Fire”, which is one of the key songs on this album, and the one that describes 9/11 the most explicitly without ever labeling the disaster. It is a universal prayer for first responders that continue to sacrifice their lives for the safety of others. The dusty arrangement in the verses feels like the smoke, blood, and darkness that Bruce describes, then it explodes into a signature stadium-sized coda that has become synonymous with the E Street Band. The song is written from the perspective of the 9/11 first responders’ loved ones who made a sacrifice themselves in trading the love they need and crave for the survival of others. Bruce repeats “May your strength give us strength/May your faith give us faith/May your hope give us hope/May your love bring us love” which introduces imagery used often throughout the album. “Into the Fire” is a eulogy, a celebration of courage, and the kind of Bruce song that transcends time and events.
I mentioned earlier the clunky transition from “Into the Fire” to “Waitin’ on a Sunny Day.” I understand the need for levity after such a heavy track, but “Sunny Day” achieves it in the most bubble-gum, cheap way possible. The superficial brightness and jubilance are jarring coming out of such a deep and profound song. I do not necessarily think the song is bad, but it does sound like one that could have been left on the cutting room floor. Despite spotlighting Clarence on saxophone, it does not really serve a purpose. I am willing to admit that the eight-minute version on recent tours that feature a kid ‘singing’ the chorus has turned me off from the song, but there are certain cringeworthy lyrics that equally bother me such as “Without you I’m a drummer that can’t keep a beat/ice cream truck on a deserted street.” Meanwhile, it is a rare occasion where the studio version is better than the live version, but I can take or leave even the best version of “Sunny Day”.
Then the record slides back into the bleak and somber with “Nothing Man”, which contributes to another strange transition. However, “Nothing Man” is on the better end of it. It was written in 1994 despite perfectly echoing the events of 9/11 and the first responders who may have lived to tell their story. It describes how trauma can disconnect one from reality and themselves. The protagonist’s hometown champions him as a hero, but he does not feel like a hero. He does not feel much at all, and he prays that he will be able to adjust to a familiar, unchanged environment as a completely different person than the one that named that place home. Bruce’s vocal is fittingly apathetic in a part of his range that is almost monotone. It adds to the song’s desolation and matches the emptiness that the protagonist is experiencing in the lyrics.
I have seen fans give “Countin’ On A Miracle” a lot of hate. Maybe they do not like the fairytale device that anchors the lyrics and the references to Sleeping Beauty and Little Red Riding Hood. I can see how someone would think it is trite, but I do not. I think Bruce interestingly dismantles the way true love is represented in fairytales where the relationship between two lovers is perfect and always ends happily ever after. I think Bruce is trying to communicate that love, in reality, is much stronger because of its flaws and its susceptibility to tragedy and struggle, which is always around the corner waiting to test the foundation. Whether the force that drives a wedge between the two lovers in the song is caused by death or anything else, the connection is still there even if it is going to take a miracle for the physical relationship to survive. So there’s that… There also is the fact that this is a kick-ass rock song. This is one where Brendan O’Brien threw in the kitchen sink as far as production. There are strings on this song playing in an aggressive manner that I do not think happens anywhere else within Bruce’s discography. I am always in favor of simpler rock arrangements as opposed to walls of sound, but I think “Countin’ on a Miracle” executes the orchestral elements that enforce the fairytale theme.
“Empty Sky” is the reverse of “Sunny Day” for me in that I much prefer the live version than the studio version. Bruce played this song every night on The Rising Tour accompanied only by acoustic guitar, harmonica, and Patti Scialfa on shared vocals. That bare, subtle, and quiet version was beautiful and made the song a lot more poignant. O’Brien misses the mark on this one, in my opinion. The drum machine sounds dated and out of place at the beginning of the song, and while this song satisfies the fix I get for piano on the album, the arrangement sounds compressed and overblown. The instruments are too loud without any dynamic and it drowns out the sadness of the singing.
“Empty Sky” features some of the most on-the-nose 9/11 commentary with ‘empty sky’ acting as a metaphor for grief while also painting the image of how the New York City Skyline looked without its elemental tallest buildings. The lyrics echo Bruce’s religious imagery and inspiration that he began using often in the early '90s. Throughout the biblical references, the character in the song struggles with where to direct his grief, wanting retribution but understanding that “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind”, so to speak.
“Empty Sky” into “World’s Apart” is an excellent transition. If an American artist were to write an album centered around 9/11, he would need a song like “World’s Apart” to compartmentalize the anger and grief for a moment and extend sympathy to Muslim people dealing with rabid Islamaphobia from the American people and government. In the hostile climate of 2002, it is a gutsy but important song to write and record. Bruce details a relationship between a beautiful Middle Eastern woman amid a barren country steeped in oppression and violence. While the two lovers in the song come from almost opposite circumstances, they are still able to find love and faith that brings them together stripping away everything but their souls and their existence under the same God.
It is a plus that this song is somewhat of a musical masterpiece. It is the best example of all the experimentation on this album working and elevating the song’s message and sonic landscape. The Middle Eastern chanting is ominous and the world music influences, primarily in the percussion build an intensity that explodes into some of this album's most aggressive rock music. Bruce lays down a nasty guitar solo, and while I can nitpick and criticize the tone of the guitar, it is still one of the best he has put on record. It is the epitome of his playing; raw, emotional, and deeply moving. I like how it comes toward the middle of the tracklist. It feels like the centerpiece that the album needs.
“Let’s Be Friends (Skin to Skin)” is the best example of all the experimentation on this album NOT working with a corny song at the core of it. I admire Bruce for trying because it does seem like they are trying to think outside of the box. However, this song is a dud. The lyrics are generic and lazy and the background vocals are tacky. Hey, they can’t all be masterpieces.
On “Further On Up the Road”, the guitars get turned up and the E Street Band goes back in time. Bruce premiered this song on the last stretch on the Reunion Tour during the closing ten nights at Madison Square Garden. The song is about resilience, perseverance, and the classic Springsteen hope that we will overcome whatever obstacle is in our way. The recording on the album is a searing and energetic commiseration of all of what makes Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band themselves. The arrangement is great and features this album’s much-needed Danny and Roy spotlight reminiscent of the band’s classic era. From top to bottom, this song is excellent and I am glad Bruce decided to put it on The Rising.
I know “The Fuse” is a miss with some fans and while it is Bruce and the band at their most experimental, it is an example where the experimentation works incredibly well. It is centered around a massive drum beat and dips into psychedelia with hard-panned guitars and vocals which makes for a fun listen with headphones. The song juxtaposes the bleakness of a funeral procession with an apocalyptic vitality aas the precipice of doom brings out the life and burning sexuality between the two people in the song. Just like a fuse, the song gets hotter and hotter building a tension that freezes with a sharp inhale and Bruce singing “Your bittersweet taste on my tongue” completely acapella before the band explodes. The imagery of this song is astounding, and part of the reason I like it so much is that Bruce paints such a clear picture that I can visualize every scene.
“Mary’s Place” into “You’re Missing” is an interesting twosome. Both reflect different grieving methods, or perhaps two stages in the grieving process. With Mary’s Place, it is time for a house party! After the passing of Clarence Clemons and Danny Federici, Bruce has taken a moment during live versions of “My City of Ruins” to reflect on the missing and insists to the audience that “If you’re here, and we’re here, then they’re here.” The foundation of Mary’s Place revolves around that idea. Part of healing is reintroducing the joy that a loved one in your life fulfilled. When that is gone, it takes a village to bring you that feeling, and once that feeling is reached it draws the living and the dead closer. The character in the song also depends on religion to cope with a loss. The E Street Band sounds like church on this song. Coincidentally, it is mostly Federici’s and Clemons’s contributions that lay the groundwork for righteous revival. Bruce repeats “Let it rain!” several times to wash away the sadness and the evil and replace it with salvation and rebirth.
This is another clunky sequence of tracks with “You’re Missing” directly following “Mary’s Place.” “You’re Missing” is a beautiful song and one of my most favorite songs on the album. However, it is also one of the saddest songs offering little in the way of hope and healing that even one of the darker tracks like “Into the Fire” includes. Overall, it is a sign of incredible songwriting when my criticism is rarely centered around the song, but their sequence and how the extraordinary puzzle pieces come together. “You’re Missing” does not warrant a deep dive into the lyrics because, after many songs that dig deeply into human nature and struggle, it is refreshingly surface-level. It puts the listener in the place of someone who has lost a family member and provides the painful reality of how everything can stay the same externally, while internally we are turned upside down. This is Soozie Tyrell’s best contribution to The Rising, and Danny once again deserves a shoutout for his vivacious organ solo that fades out the song.
Finally, we get to the title track, “The Rising.” What can I say about “The Rising”? It is the thesis of the album (that as I mentioned, arrives a bit too late) based off a firefighter bravely entering the towers on 9/11 to save people knowing the unlikelihood of his own survival. It has served as a wonderful tribute to first responders who risk their lives for our safety with the 9/11 first responders being the best example of that brand of courage. “The Rising” has been played at most E Street Band shows since it was released. It has become a song about a lot more. It echoes “Mary’s Place’s” message that community remedies the loneliness we feel not only resulting in the loss of a loved one, but in our daily lives. It even has a coda where the audience is invited to sing along—"li, li, li li li li li li." It is the perfect response to the supposed statement that the fan made to Bruce that we needed him. It represents how Bruce, the band, and the audience have built up such a trust and intense love affair that it all feels a bit like religion. Bruce knew this was the message that needed to be received when all is said and done—we all have pain and the only way to make it hurt less is to come together and unite in the name of brotherhood and sisterhood resembling the blueprint for a greater peace. I am lucky enough to find something like being a Bruce Springsteen fan where I feel understood, and I can only imagine what it did to those Bruce fans who needed him the most in 2002. And to digress for a moment, while music and art almost always form community, few artists have this level of comradeship with their fans. He has made billions of dollars from a concept that I will always believe no matter what—he gets us.
It seems like the review should end there right? Well, it does not, but two strong tracks close out the album. “Paradise” is one of them. It is quite an underrated song in Bruce’s catalog that it is easy for it to get lost among all the anthems on The Rising. The darkness of the album permeates this track as it is centered around suicide. In the first verse, Bruce sings from the perspective of a teenage suicide bomber at the center of a religious cult that has convinced her salvation is only earned through the sacrifice of her life and others at her expense. The second verse provides suicide as a means to see a lost loved one again after life seems too daunting to continue without the person. Bruce reveals that Paradise is nothing but a construct and that life’s greatest moments will always walk hand-in-hand with pain and suffering. It is an urge to stop the chase, reflect on the reality of life, come to peace with it, and continue to receive its gifts. At the end of the song, the person who was about to drown themself reaches the surface with the notion that paradise is empty. This Nebraska-esque acoustic ballad is what Bruce aficionados would say is their favorite Rising tune to impress someone at a bar, but they may have a point.
When I came upon the album closer, the gorgeous “My City of Ruins”, while listening to the album in preparation for the review, my first and major takeaway was what Danny Federici meant to this band. There will never be another Danny. The soul and feel of his playing can leave you misty-eyed like it left me. I will get to this point in later reviews, but each E Street Band member is elemental not only in the sound of the band but also the heart of it—the part that transcends notes, chords, and solos—the chemistry and the story and the legend of it all. I love Charlie Giordano and I love Jake Clemons and I think they are going above and beyond in fulfilling the impossible task of replacing Danny and Clarence. However, even as a young fan, I listen to Danny on a song like “My City of Ruins” and I marvel at what a perfect storm Bruce and the E Street Band are and how if one small piece was not there after all these years, who knows that the original E Street Band experience would alter many fans and certainly my life the way that it has?
“My City of Ruins” has found itself deep into the fabric of Bruce’s most essential music. In case you do not know the song’s origin, Bruce wrote it about Asbury Park, NJ’s profound fall from the grace he found it in. He performed it on a telethon after 9/11 to support families of the first responders who lost their lives on that day and it immediately transformed into a prayer to honor the destruction of the things we love and hold dearest. It is a wonderful final track that puts the listener back on the path to hope despite the album’s tendency to deviate from it. Currently, he reminds the audience during “My City of Ruins” that “If you’re here, and we’re here, then they’re here.” While I can tend to be cynical about the possibility of something bigger than ourselves at times, I can tell you with 100% honest certainty that I do believe in what Bruce is saying.