RiffDraft

Like Ken, I spent $16 on music this week. But, unlike Ken, I got only one album out of the deal, Bruce Springsteen’s new one, Magic.

I really like the album cover, easily his best since Born to Run. Bruce Springsteen is to the white T-shirt as John Fogerty is to the flannel.

Once you get past the cover, the music is what you would expect from Springsteen. The thing that hit me first is how thick the E. Street Band sounds. The guitars, in particular, generously fill in the gaps with a wave of distortion and sirene-shreeking echo.

Once you make friends again with the usual characters that make up the Springsteen sound, Clarance Clemons’s sax and the staccato piano of Roy Bittan, I find myself camping out next to Max Weinberg’s snare drum.

The snare drum is like the sitar in that it is difficult to tune. It’s so loud that you really don’t want to spend a whole lot of time searching for a signature sound. Who wants to put their ear next to a hammer coming down on a nail? Well, Weinberg does, and he has made his sound like men working on the chain gang driving spikes into a train track.

If the previous sentence is evocative of a certain Sam Cooke song, I’ve been successful. Cooke knew that a straight, unwavering snare-drum on the 2-and-4 was the foundation of soul music. It clues the audience when to clap and invites everyone to get up and dance. You can’t go wrong. The drummer’s not going to throw you any curveballs and your girl’s gonna think you’ve actually got rhythm. On Magic, listen to “Livin in the Future”. It starts off with a snare rimshot, then the band comes in (think “The Ties that Bind” or “Hungry Heart” from The River). Nothing but 2-and-4 for the rest of the trip. And it is a trip. You’re going somewhere. Where? Out of town. Out on the town. To your hometown. And Bruce has his hands on the wheel and he’s taking you there. Just don’t forget about what lies beneath the hood.

Celebrate Bruce. Celebrate Max. Celebrate White T’s.