My Favorite Albums of 2014

And with one exception, they're all pictured at right.

1. "English Oceans," Drive-By Truckers.  DBT fills the role in my living pantheon formerly filled by Warren Zevon.  Everything they release is very good to great, and they're probably never going to hit the mainstream.  But that's OK, although it would be nice if the band didn't have to tour 200 nights a year to make a living.

Of the group's songwriters, Patterson Hood has always been the alpha dog, but "English Oceans" is Mike Cooley's triumph.  Without a doubt, this is the strongest set of songs he's ever penned for a DBT album, and for the first time Cooley has as many songs on an album as Hood (also for the first time, he even sings a Hood-penned tune).  "Shit Shots Count," Primer Coat," "Made Up English Oceans," and "Hearing Jimmy Loud" were all instant classics.

And the Hood songs?  They took a little longer to sink in, but after months of listening it's clear that they're pretty damn good too - with at least one ("Grand Canyon") that will surely end up in his own personal Hall of Fame.

2. "Songs of Innocence," U2.  The only album not pictured above, because as the entire world knows by now, it just ended up on my iPod one day.  Personally I think the controversy over that move was overblown, but after a while to think about it, I can see the point of those who criticized the move.  And what got lost in the shuffle (iPod joke not intended) was that this was the best U2 album in years.  Did they break any new ground?  Probably not.  But they did release the best crafted set of tunes they've come up with in at least 25 years.   That's good enough for me.

3. "Singles," Future Islands.  Like a lot of other people, I was introduced to the band via their amazing performance on Letterman.  And while a lot of this album makes me nostalgic for the 1980s, there's no doubting that Samuel T. Herring and his bandmates know exactly what they're doing.  Fast songs, dance songs, ballads - it all works quite nicely.

4. "Plain Spoken," John Mellencamp.   I wrote about the album here.  Iconic stuff.

5. "Most Messed Up," Old 97s.  See review here, where I called it a "messed up masterpiece."

6. "Tarpaper Sky," Rodney Crowell.  What a songwriter.  Original review here.

7. "The River and the Thread," Rosanne Cash.  When this came out, I thought it might end up at #1, but I was struck by something Robert Christgau said in his review - that the album was lacking in passion.  There's no doubting that this is an excellent album, but I can also see why he said that.  However, at least two major exceptions - "A Feather's Not a Bird," and "When the Master Calls," the great Civil War ballad she wrote with John Leventhal and Rodney Crowell.

8. "High Hopes," Bruce Springsteen.  A lot of good to great tunes here, but after living with it for nearly a year, I can't escape the conclusion that it's less than the sum of its parts.  And I'm sorry, but the Tom Morello contributions detract just as often as they add to the power of the music.

9. "Somewhere Under Wonderland," Counting Crows.  This could continue to move up with time, but the band was clearly energized by their last, covers-only effort.

10. "Platinum," Miranda Lambert.  By the time she is done, she's going to be right up there with some really, really famous country singers.

11. "Voyager," Jenny Lewis.  Pretty darn close to being a perfect pop album.

Subjects for further research: Bryan Ferry's "Avonmore," The New Pornographers' "Brill Bruisers."

Memo to Page: Listen to Plant

Every few issues or so of Rolling Stone, there seems to be a story about a potential Led Zeppelin reunion.  The narrative usually has Jimmy Page at the forefront, making the pitch to bring the band together - although it's rarely clear on whether he's talking about producing new material or giving the old warhorses another run around the track.  The next chapter is usually Robert Plant, expressing some level of dismay about Jimmy wanting to turn back the clock, and sometimes sharing a story about making an offer to collaborate on acoustic material, or some other non-Zeppelin related project.

When I listen to "lullaby and...The Ceaseless Roar," the new album from Plant, I completely understand his resistance - why would he ever want to return to the world of Zeppelin, with the unrealistic expectations that would accompany such a venture (not to mention the fact that Led Zeppelin without John Bonham...well, you get the gist), when he's got such a worthwhile and great thing going on with his own music?

And make no bones about it - "lullaby and...The Ceaseless Roar" is a fully realized, almost entirely successful album that stakes a claim for Robert Plant as "the most successful solo artist from a legendary band" of the rock era.  By my count, it's his third consecutive triumph, following his collaboration with Alison Krauss and "Band of Joy," the album he made during his relationship with Patty Griffin.  "lullaby" sounds completely different than those two works, and paints a picture of an artist capable of absorbing every genre with which he comes into contact.  On some songs there is a middle eastern feel, on others you hear bits and pieces of what sound like old American folk songs, and on still others he comes across as the greatest crooner of our age.

Although this is clearly Plant's album, it is also a collaboration, with the members of the band he is calling the "Sensational Space Shifters."  On songs like "Pocketful of Golden" and "Embrace Another Fall," there is an understated power to the music (and mystery - sounding like there is a lot at stake here), as if it were a powerful animal being held back by a masterful ringleader.  The sound of the album is also a key to its success, and it wasn't surprising to see Tchad Blake's name show up in the credits, having mixed 8 of the album's 11 tracks.  The sound has a depth and fullness to it that recalls Blake's earlier work with Los Lobos.

We're not likely to see the end of the Zeppelin rumors in our lifetime, but when you can make an album this good that is completely in the spirit of that great band's work, then why bother with a reunion?

Did you hear? U2 has a new album

It's pretty clear after a few days that the big story surrounding U2's new album, "Songs of Innocence," isn't the music itself but the manner in which it was released.  For those who have been living under a rock or vacationing where the Wi-Fi don't go, the album showed up in the "Purchased" section of everyone with an iTunes library on Tuesday, there for the taking with a few quick clicks or touches.  And the way some people have reacted, you would have thought that Bono himself had broken into everyone's house, and slid a copy of the new one into the CD cabinet of everyone with a music collection.

Consider the reaction from Pitchfork:

"U2 being U2, they’ve taken that strategy one step over the line into indisputably queasy territory, aligning with their old friends Apple to insert their new album, Songs of Innocence, into all of our libraries without consent. By updating the old Columbia House Record Club scam to the digital age, U2 and their Cupertino buddies have created a new avenue of opt-out cultural transmission, removing even the miniscule effort it takes to go to a website and click “Download.”

First of all, someone needs to explain to me how what U2 and Apple did last week is like  "the old Columbia House Record Club scam."  If memory serves, the way that worked was that you paid a penny for 12 albums, and then you got one in the mail each month that you could either pay for or send back unopened and unbought.  Based on what I've heard from folks who were actually a member, more often than not the album coming each month was not likely to be one that you wanted to keep.  But unless I've missed something, there's no obligation at all with the U2 album.   I wasn't even obligated to download it, and I'm presuming that for those who don't, it will just as magically disappear from the iTunes library on the day that it goes on sale in more traditional formats.

So the whole thing strikes me as silly, and it makes me wonder how many folks complaining about having U2 in their library have readily agreed to throw their privacy away through the download of insidious apps that require access to so much of one's online identity.  It also makes me wonder whether the heartburn is more about the dislike of so many for Bono as a public figure.  And that, folks, is an old story.  Bono has been a pretentious twit for much of the band's history, but I've never found that a healthy skepticism for Bono as public figure needed to spill over into the consideration of their music.

So what about the music?  Well, the Pitchfork pan and the Rolling Stone rave don't come as a surprise, because the band isn't exactly plowing new ground on "Songs of Innocence."  There's very little experimentation, either in the instrumentation or in the production.  It sounds very much like the classic U2 sound that longtime fans will remember from the mid-1980s - and as far as I'm concerned, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.  In fact, I think this is clearly the band's best album since at least "All You Can't Leave Behind" from 2001, and perhaps going all the way back to "Achtung Baby" a decade before that.

It seems to me that, at a certain point, a band earns the right to do whatever it wants.  And if U2 wants to return to the basic sound that defined the period of their greatest artistic success - and does it well - then I say more power to them.  And while the album is still sinking in, songs like "Every Breaking Wave," "Song for Someone," and "Cedarwood Road" sound about as good as anything they've ever recorded.  In the spirit of full disclosure, I've never been a fan of their most experimental efforts, and think that "Zooropa" and "Pop" are the worst albums of their long career.  So if you like that vein of their work and those albums, I can see where you might see it differently.

And the controversy over the unconventional release?  There are a lot more important things to get upset about right now.

"Tarpaper Sky" - Rodney Crowell hits one out of the park

When Jack Gallagher invited me to be a guest on his and Tommy Dunbar's "5 Songs" podcast last year, I made the comment that "the best song ever written is still out there, somewhere."  For me, that's what has always made music so exciting - there's just so damn much of it, and you just never know where your passion might take you.  While exciting, it's also a bit scary, because at the end of the day there's just too much music - you can't ever hope but to scratch the surface.  And if you're like me (and you probably aren't, and that's probably a good thing), there's always a nagging worry at the back of your mind that you have to be missing something.

On Friday, I was perusing a Rolling Stone article that they had posted on their Facebook page, something along the lines of "the 26 best albums you probably haven't heard in 2014."  Immediately, I was thinking "oh shit, here we go again."  I got out my pen and paper, wrote down a few that sounded interesting, and a couple that screamed "oh man, how did I miss that?"  And on Saturday, I trekked down to the local record store, where I was able to find one that fell into the latter category - "Tarpaper Sky," the latest release from Rodney Crowell.  I haven't bought a lot of Crowell over the years, but it's not as if I don't know who he is, and some of the great songs he's written in the past.  And I really enjoyed his duet album last year with Emmylou Harris, and there's no denying that "When the Master Calls the Roll," the song he co-wrote with (ex-wife) Rosanne Cash and John Leventhal for her album "The River & the Thread," is a masterpiece - one of the best songs in recent memory.

But I have to admit that nothing prepared me for how good an album "Tarpaper Sky" would be. After years of having learned my lesson I've tried to shy away from making spur of the moment pronouncements, but this just might end up being my favorite album of the year - and it will almost certainly end up in the top five.  On "Tarpaper Sky" Crowell shows his prowess as both a performer and a songwriter; there isn't a song on the album that doesn't contain at least one musical or lyrical delight.  There's even a song dedicated to John Denver ("Oh What a Beautiful World") that manages to be sentimental without being corny, and gets to the essence of what made Denver such an appealing performer to so many.

Like Patty Griffin, Crowell made his name as a songwriter before he hit it big as a singer and bandleader, and his skill with the pen is evident throughout "Tarpaper Sky," as he demonstrates a way with words that rivals someone like Elvis Costello or Hal David.  Some examples:

You're every curled rosebud
Enchanting my eye
Each turned up coat collar
And your gaze slides by
There's a sanded down moon
In a tarpaper sky
God I'm missing you

"God I'm Missing You"

Has anybody seen her now?
Pray tell me what you hear
'Cause I just can't get over
How she shed me like a tear

"Somebody's Shadow"

You tore through my life like a tornado looking
for a trailer park
We met on a Monday, here it is Sunday
It happened so fast, they said it wouldn't last
Yeah, but what do they know?
Why can't they say so now?

"Frankie Please"

It's great stuff.  And here's hoping that the RS article helps a few others discover it.

Old 97's deliver a messed up masterpiece

"Most Messed Up," the new album by the Old 97's, is packaged in spartan fashion.  It includes neither liner notes nor a lyric sheet.  On the back cover, you see that there are "Twelve songs in total," with an album length of "Thirty-nine minutes, fifty-seven seconds."  And then, "Play this album loud."  With that admonition a gauntlet has been thrown down, and the only thing that remains is to find out whether the band can deliver on the promise.

The answer is a resounding "yes."  In fact, "Most Messed Up" is my favorite album of the the year -  certainly the most fun, and probably the truest to the spirit of rock 'n roll.  If "Born to Run" was "a '57 Chevy running on melted down Crystals records" (the great line by Greil Marcus), then "Most Messed Up" is akin to a Dodge Charger that's been driving all night long, a little overheated, running mostly on melted down bottles of Jack Daniels and whatever "medicines" the band was able to get their hands on.

The first clue to what the album is all about can be found in the song titles: "Longer Than You've Been Alive" (which is how the long the band has been playing together), "Let's Get Drunk & Get It On," "Wheels Off," "Wasted," "Intervention," "Most Messed Up."  The second clue can be found in the band credits, just below those for the band regulars: "Additional electric guitar and vocals: Tommy Stinson."  For those too young to remember, Stinson was a founding member of The Replacements, one of the greatest (if not the greatest) of American post-punk bands.  The first few listens, I couldn't quite put my finger on what the sound of "Most Messed Up" reminded me of - but seeing that credit to Stinson, it all came into focus, because there's a distinct "Let it Be" and "Tim" (The Replacements' first two albums) vibe to the proceedings.  The album sounds like it was recorded in one take, without any breaks for silly things like guitar tuning, rehearsals or overdubs.  It's a bit of a mess, but a glorious one.

And while there's no lyrics sheet, you can find them easily enough on the band's website.  A few choice nuggets:

bottles of whiskey bottles of beer

there’s a bottle of medicine somewhere ‘round here

we’ve been in nightclubs and we’ve been in bars

honky-tonks and theaters from Memphis to Mars

most of our shows were a triumph of rock

although some nights I might have been checkin’ the clock

"Longer Than You've Been Alive"

this is the ballad of drinking rye whiskey

and sleeping till 2 on a warm afternoon

telling your journal how badly you miss me

and you can’t believe I’ll be coming so soon

this is the ballad of anticipation

waiting and waiting and waiting and then

finally getting the one you’ve been wanting

and guess what it’s time to start waiting again

"This Is the Ballad"

stop squeezin’ my shoes quit killin’ my buzz

why you wreckin’ my mood what are you the fuzz

I’m so far gone I can’t never get found

I am the most messed up motherf*cker in this town

"Most Messed Up"

The Old 97's have been around for more than twenty years, and I don't think many people would accuse them of being a household name.  That's probably not going to change with the release of "Most Messed Up," and it's unlikely that the band had any expectations that it would.  But trust me, this is about as good as it gets.

Keep on Truckin'

Browsing through the Metacritic reviews of English Oceans, the new album by the Drive-By Truckers, it becomes quickly apparent that nearly everyone likes these guys, and wants them to succeed.  You read phrases like "typically strong," "they’ve never made a bad or even a mediocre album in their two decades," and "it’d be a real surprise if they ever put out a bad batch of songs."  Appropriately, most of the reviews start from the assumption that DBT is a great band, one that deserves to be included in any conversation, debate or argument about the best American bands of the rock era.  And even though I came to the Truckers really late (not until 2010, and thank you again JDG), I fully endorse that notion.

So when a new album comes out, the first thing that goes through my mind is "well, I hope this isn't the first bad one."  Once that initial anxiety is past, the question becomes where to place the new LP into the band's entire body of work.  It's still too early to answer that question definitively, but it's probably safe to say that this isn't the band's best album - because as good as it is, it's going to be really tough for them to match Decoration Day and Brighter than Creation's Dark, both of which benefited from the work of a third songwriter (Jason Isbell on the former, Shonna Tucker on the latter) who was contributing first-rate songs to those penned by Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley.

Having dispensed with that, I'm quite comfortable saying that English Oceans is an excellent album.  I'm comfortable saying that it may be their most consistent album since Decoration Day.  And I'm absolutely thrilled to say that the new album represents an absolute triumph for Mike Cooley, who - notwithstanding his many great contributions to the band over the years - has more often than not played second fiddle to Patterson Hood, if only because Hood is a much more prolific writer.  There's no doubting that Hood remains the band's auteur - the one most responsible for what DBT is all about, their approach to songwriting and their world view.  But over time, it's likely that English Oceans will come to be known as "the Cooley album" - he wrote 6 of the song's 13 songs, and in what I believe may be a first, sings one of Hood's.

And make no bones about it - this is clearly the strongest set of songs from start to finish that Cooley has ever contributed to a DBT album.  There are two classic rockers that I can't wait to hear played live (they'll be in Sacramento on April 25, and I'll be there) - "Shit Shots Count," and "Hearing Jimmy Loud"; there are songs with a lyrical depth that Cooley has rarely approached in the past ("Made Up English Oceans" and Primer Coat"), and there's the boozy, bluesy "Natural Light, " which wouldn't have sounded out of place on the setlists of Johnny Cash or even Elvis Presley.

In interviews, it's readily obvious that Hood is delighted with what his longtime partner has come up with, and it's not as if he's come up with a bunch of losers himself.  The standouts are "The Part of Him," which could be about any number of politicians from the past or present ("His integrity was phoning in, totally Nixonian") and "Grand Canyon," which even with Cooley's triumphs is probably the best song on the entire album - a sprawling epic that demonstrates how easily the band is able to transcend its "alternative country/southern rock roots" (thank you, Wikipedia).

Two decades in.  Jason Isbell is gone, Shonna Tucker and John Neff are gone.  Drummer extraordinaire Brad Morgan and keyboardist/third guitarist Jay Gonzalez are still around.  But it's never been clearer than on English Oceans that Drive-By Truckers belong to Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley.  Here's hoping that they have another decade or two in them.

Rosanne Cash's Southern Journey

Regular readers of this blog (all 8 of you) should know that Rosanne Cash, along with a handful of others, is someone I consider a "pantheon artist."  While I wouldn't make the claim that her musical accomplishments match those of her legendary father, we've reached the point of her career where such a suggestion can't be dismissed out of hand.

Cash has been making albums now for 35 years, and during that span of time she's released at least three albums that I would consider classics: King's Record Shop (1987), Interiors (1990) and Black Cadillac (2006).  "Classic" is probably an insufficient term; one can easily make an argument for each of those records being a masterpiece.  She's released several others that are "merely great," and on top of all that she recorded one of the singular singles of my lifetime, "Seven Year Ache" - a song that sounds as fresh and vital on hearing it for the 1000th time as it did on the first.

It's been more than a month now since the release of The River & The Thread, and the reason I haven't written about it until now is that I really wanted to give some thought to where it falls within her catalog.  There was no question, upon first listen, that this was a great album.  But just how great?  I've fallen prey in the past - particularly with artists that I am inclined to love - of initially overrating an album, and so I wanted to give this one some time to sink in.

After a month of regular listening, I'm prepared to say that The River & The Thread is the fourth classic album of Rosanne Cash's career, and her second (at least) masterpiece.  Yes, it is that good.  Thematically and musically unified, featuring some of her best lyrics, and what is almost certainly the best production work that John Leventhal has ever done.

Let's start with the production.  I've criticized Leventhal in the past for being a little too fussy with his production, for adding one too many instruments to the mix when perhaps one fewer was more in order.  Looking back, I think I was spoiled by the approach that Rodney Crowell took with Rosanne earlier in her career.  Back in the 1980s, she was about breaking barriers - you could call her a country artist with credibility, but Crowell's hard-edged production (with its big drum sound) demonstrated that she could sing just about anything with authority, up to and including raving John Hiatt rockers like "Pink Bedroom."  In contrast, I felt like Leventhal's production on solid efforts like The Wheel and Rules of Travel sometimes got in the way of the songs, resulting in a mix that - while still strong, don't get me wrong - was less than the sum of its parts.

The turning point was Black Cadillac, which divided the production duties in half, with Bill Bottrell handling the odd-numbered tracks, and Leventhal the even.  Bottrell took Cash back closer to a straightforward rock approach (even though the songs were mostly quiet and soft in tone), and Leventhal had no choice but to really follow suit, to avoid an end result that sounded like two different artists (the bane of so many multi-producer efforts).   The approach on River & Thread is spare and direct, even though on several songs Leventhal can be heard playing several different instruments.  None of these songs are outright rockers (and if I have a minor quibble, that would be it), but the approach is definitely "rockist."

And the songs - well, there is just no questioning that this may be the strongest and most consistent set of songs that Cash has ever recorded for an album.  As I've mentioned before, the music always hits me before the lyrics, but it is worth taking the time to listen carefully to these songs, and to read Cash's commentary on each of them in the liner notes.  These are stories she is trying to tell here, and to fully understand and appreciate them takes time.  From the absorption of history through following a meandering river, to the whole concept of "you have to love the thread" ("A Feather's Not A Bird") from the family histories ("The Sunken Lands," "Etta's Tune") to the deep, rich and sometimes tragic history of the South ("Money Road," "50,000 Watts," "The Long Way Home"), this is an album that knows exactly what it wants to accomplish, and it comes through every time.

It all comes together in "When the Master Calls the Roll," a collaboration between Cash, her  husband Leventhal, and her former husband Crowell.  It is a magnificent, heartbreaking song, written and sung in the style of a Civil War ballad.  It tells the story of William and Mary Ann, who from the first chords of the song we know are in love, but also that their love is doomed - that their time together will not survive the carnage of the battlefield.  It's also beautiful and, more importantly, timeless - one can picture the song being sung shortly after the war's end, by a young (or old) Bob Dylan, or by someone who has yet to be be born.  The story is strong enough to cross generations.

About that song, Rosanne writes in the liner notes that "the fact that John, Rodney and I wrote this together is tremendous gift."  One could say the same thing about the entirety of The River & The Thread - it is a tremendous gift, and even though we are only two months in to 2014, it is clearly the album to beat for Album of the Year.

It’s Beyoncé’s world, we just live in it

In a way, it doesn't even matter how good an album Beyoncé is, because the execution of its release was so damn brilliant.  I’ve been around for a while, and I can’t remember anything like this happening before.  You’ve got one of the biggest stars in the world, someone familiar even to people who aren’t huge fans of her work, dropping an album on an unsuspecting public on December 20, with no pre-release advertising campaign, and well after most people had already filled up the Christmas stockings of their loved ones (or themselves).  Not to mention, way too late to make the best of year lists at Rolling Stone or Pitchfork.

Oh yeah, and a new, lushly produced video to go along with each song on the album.

I’ve never bought one of her albums before, and in all honesty I’m not sure I’d know one of her older songs if it played on the radio right now.  But I’m not stupid, and I can recognize and appreciate a great performer even if I’m not particularly into their music.  But there was no question about it – just for the sheer audacity of the concept, I was going to get my hands on this one.  Ostensibly I bought it for son #2, but knew that once he ripped it onto his iPod, it was likely to stay in Elk Grove.

So how is it?  Pretty darn good, and certainly a huge improvement over the album that Mr. Carter released earlier this year.  Her voice is so good that at times it threatens to overpower the songs, and on some tracks it suffers from what I’d call “Justin Timberlake syndrome” – meaning, a good song that might have been a great song had it been a couple of minutes shorter.  And while I can appreciate the value of an album that lasts over an hour, you’ll have to argue hard and long to convince me that the best albums aren’t somewhere between 40 and 45 minutes long.

And while this is probably more a function of my age than anything else, I’m not sure how many details about Mr. and Mrs. Carter’s love life I really need (or want) to know.  There’s plenty to enjoy about a song like “Blow,” but I’m not sure I’d want to listen to it in mixed company (having said that, I’d rather listen to this song than watch Kanye’s video for “Bound 2.”).

To these ears, there really isn’t a bad cut on the entire album, but things really pick up at the end, from “XO” on to “Blue” at the end.  It may not be perfect, but given the talent behind it and the genius of its inception, there’s no reason to quibble with anyone who calls “Beyoncé” the album of the year.

The Older You Get, The More It Means

"The older you get, the more it means."

Bruce Springsteen said those words last summer in Kilkenny, Ireland, wrapping up one leg of what is fast turning into his version of Dylan's "never ending tour."  He was talking about singing and performing, but he could easily have been talking about his fans.  Even at this late date, with Bruce's spot in the rock pantheon secure, there's a little thrill with the release of each new album, not to mention a little anxiety.  After all these years, will this finally be the lousy album?  Will this be the one where you think to yourself, "man, he should have left that one in the studio?"  Right now he's immersed in what is probably the most prolific phase of his recording career, on a fairly set schedule of one new album every two years.  He wouldn't be the first great artist to release a piece of crap; it happens.

I'm happy to say that "High Hopes" is not that album.  I tend to overrate Springsteen albums upon their release, but this one is really a pleasant surprise.  I'll admit to having been a little worried upon reading that the album would be comprised of unreleased songs, cover versions, and re-recordings of a couple of songs in the Springsteen pantheon.  Spanning two producers, even (Brendan O'Brien and Ron Aniello), and two producers whose earlier Springsteen recordings sounded markedly different.

O ye of little faith.

I'll wait a while before assigning this classic status, but there's little doubt that it's a damn good album.  It flows together well, and it certainly sounds radio-friendly, although in this day and age I'm not sure it makes a lot of sense to say something like that.  The cover versions ("High Hopes," "Just Like Fire Would," "Dream Baby Dream") sound like Bruce could have written them, and they fit in just fine.  Their importance to the album can't be underestimated; it can't be a coincidence that Bruce bookends the album with the first and third songs on the list.

The garage rock of "Frankie Fell in Love" would have fit in just fine on side two of "The River," and its lightness and brevity help balance some of the album's deeper new songs like "Down in the Hole" (from "The Rising" era, with the lines "The sun upon your shoulder/Empty city skyline/The day rips apart/A dark and bloody arrow pierced my heart") and "The Wall," a song (based on an idea from Joe Grushecky) about visiting the Vietnam Memorial and remembering an old friend.

Songs as powerful as "American Skin (41 Shots)" and "The Ghost of Tom Joad" could easily have overwhelmed the album with their power, but they don't feel out of place.  The recording of the former pays tribute to the magnificent live version, while sounding fresh and modern.  The latter is a Tom Morello-driven powerhouse that gives this great song the recording it deserves.  I'm a bigger fan of "The Ghost of Tom Joad" album than most, but there's little doubt that this is the version that I'll turn to first from now on.  The things that Morello can do with his guitar are beyond my comprehension, and his vocal is a nice counterpart to Bruce's - emphasizing the bleak landscape of the song.

Morello appears on 7 of the album's 12 tunes, and his signature sound definitely gives the E Street band a dimension that it hasn't had before, even with the great Nils Lofgren.  You're never going to mistake Morello for another guitarist, but he doesn't sound out of place.  It's almost scary to think about what the band might sound like if he, Stevie Van Zandt, Lofgren and Bruce all play together during the upcoming tours, but if you're moving closer to advanced decrepitude like me, you'll want to have your earplugs handy.

And then there's "Dream Baby Dream."  In Bruce's version, it's a very simple song, but it is a wonderful coda to the album.  It's a beautiful song, and you can almost imagine Bruce singing it in a small saloon somewhere, eyes fixed on his baby out in the audience.  I'm not sure why I find it so moving, but I can certainly imagine it closing a few shows this year.

Discussions about where this fits into the Springsteen pantheon can wait.  For now, there's little doubt that come year's end, "High Hopes" will be among the year's best albums.  And that's good enough.

Come on, we gotta keep the light burning.