I our last foyer into the subject of "great bands, shitty songs", we discussed how Guns N Roses (cough, cough, mainly that arrogant shit Axl... cough cough) tried to prove the old theory that people would buy any piece of shit track the 90s mega group would put to tape during their peak.
This time, we are going to look at a different type of bad song... a more hurtful one in many ways...
Because it comes from Bruce Springsteen.
There was a time when Bruce Springsteen could do no wrong.
Armed with his trusty guitar and backed by his loyal friends, the Boss (as we all came to know him) wrote the songs of the working man... sad tales about men doomed to work until the cold hand of death took him into the Underworld and the settling they and their women would do to make life work.
They were sad.
They were raw.
They were real.
Since those gut wrenching classics, a string of pop hits and countless millions have been showered upon the Boss... all of them, I might add, more than well deserved.. all the trappings of sucess were showered upon the Working Class Hero
Personifying that boue collar work ethic, The now disgustingly wealthy Boss decided he still had things that needed saying, and has kept working.
While most bands in his class have long kicked any attempts to try and make a hit, Bruce has stilled tried to speak the words of the working man of the 21st century.
But sadly- without the backdrops of gritty steel mills and sad lives of their cogs- the best the solidly in the 1% rocker can muster up for the common man is this parody of what was once great.
The song has all the Springsteen staples: a guy settling for a less than dream girl... a few dreams never seen through... nice hook you can hum along while working third shift at the mill...
Except it takes place in a supermarket.
So give it a listen...
Sounds like something I would have written back when I was some shithead junior songwriter thinking I was being all profound and weighty in my ham handed shoehorning of horrific supermarket themed puns and symbolism in this ode to the 21st century American Springsteen-esque subject of the song has decided to settle for (ironic, if you think about it, being that most of the Boss’ music were songs about people settling for one another and life in general)…
With my shopping cart I move through the heart
Of a sea of fools so blissfully unaware
That they’re in the presence of something wonderful and rare
The way she moves behind the counter
Beneath her white apron her secret remains hers
Fucking poetry, ain’t it???
It’s almost enough to make you forget the work the man did on Nebraska.