Published on Aug 15, 2001
This is the worst collection of Springsteen songs I’ve ever
heard. I’m not sure what the producer – I won’t name names here,
but he was involved with “Songs,” the book a few years back – was
thinking, but I imagine he must have told every single person who
recorded for it to rely on gimmicky voice tricks and a tempo that
would make Roger Waters roll his eyes.
The first song, by virtue of being the first, manages to work
despite the plodding tempo. Where Springsteen made the song
“Nebraska” ring with emotion, Chrissie Hynde and Adam Seymour make
me want to shoot myself. Springsteen was always able to mush about
six million words into a single line of a verse and make it sound
at least
nearly natural, but these two are totally unable to.
The second track has some redeeming merit. Hank Williams III
takes “Atlantic City” and puts a country twist on it – complete
with country fried Dylan sounding vocals. It’s really not terrible;
it’s a bit uninspired, and doesn’t do much with the lyrics, but
it’s a cut above the first track. Crooked Fingers take “Mansion On
The Hill” and stick some U2-esque piano and reverse-noises
underneath it, which is actually a very interesting take. What is
not
very interesting, or even very expressive, is the yet-again
plodding interpretation of the lyrics (this coupled with the fact
that about two minutes in they drop in a sound that belonged on
Pretty Hate Machine!)
“Johnny 99” has never been done well except by Springsteen, and
maybe Johnny Cash (more on him later.) Los Lobos try to infuse it
with raunchy saxophones, but the vocals
again fail to deliver. The lyrics are satirical, sort of
bouncy and gleefully evil. Los Lobos make it sound like a joke that
flopped.
And then we reach the part of the album where they toss female
singers at us like tomatoes at a Loggins and Messina concert. Every
single one relies on some cheap voice trickery – Dar Williams does
the good ol’ falsetto double-tracking (underneath yet another
laboriously tempoed track.) I love “Highway Patrolman” – it’s a
great song. Her version is actually better than I expected; and in
the context of the album it’s even a bit of a break. (Ok, I admit
it – I’m a sucker for double-tracking, especially falsetto.) The
ending is a nice climax, as well – both lyrically and
musically.
Ani DiFranco, an artist I normally love to listen to, decided
for some reason to speak –
not sing – every line of “Used Cars” through one of those
megaphone type filters (you know the kind – “Winnnnchester
Cathedral… You’re bringin’ me dow-own…”) The song lasts for
about eight minutes too long, and none of it is enjoyable. The
doodling guitar in the background could have been interesting, but
it’s clearly meant as support and not counterpoint.
“Open All Night,” though slow, works. It’s not great, but I like
the way the bouncy vocals bring us up and down with the syllables.
“Reason To Believe” was a great example of Springsteen’s wry sense
of humor; but here, they overproduce and make it sound like a
genuine attempt at hopefulness. Maybe my interpreation is a bit
inaccurate – but any song that talks about a guy poking a dead dog
with a stick certainly isn’t taking itself seriously. A short coda
of songs originally recorded during the
Nebraska sessions was a healthy addition; Johnny Cash’s “I’m
On Fire” is one of the few points in this album’s favor. The Man in
Black has a voice far big enough to encompass the delightful
lecherousness expressed in the song.
“Downbound Train” isn’t anything to write home about; the verse
that expresses essentially bottomless sorrow doesn’t come across as
such. It’s a decent cover, but it doesn’t say much within the song.
If I were choosing songs to record from the
Nebraska sessions, I probably would have chosen “Vietnam” –
the original “Born In The U.S.A.” – but they did not.
Nebraska was originally great not only because of the
lyrical quality, but the rawness expressed in the delivery. No
polished demo can compete with the deep-seated honesty implicit in
one guy sitting there, sucking on a harmonica and strumming a
guitar (a bit clumsily, it may seem.) In addition, while individual
songs are able to work on their own, the continuity given the
subject matter through a single voice should not be downplayed – I
suspect that a single artist doing a full-length tribute to
Nebraska would have succeeded far more ably than this. As it
is, it’s a set of covers with no tribute.