The River

Darkness At The Edge Of Town was the album when Bruce Springsteen and his repertory of characters finally grew up. Which makes it a hard act to follow. But despite Jon Landau's earlier nomination of him as 'the future of rock 'n' roll', Springsteen viewed both the future, rock 'n' roll and their relations with foreboding: Racing In The Street took his writing and that of his school to its furthest point of challenge and perception with a penitent admission that his brand of urban heroism might be outmoded and no lifestyle for an adult or anyone interested in such a vocation. It might have been the Last Great Rock Song, the one that cleared the decks for a new direction. Not so. The River is a double-album but it is no Second Coming.

One can rarely fault the music. True this is a double album and one that possesses his most acceptable production yet, a dread combination that has tested and downed the mightiest – but with allowances for some uncustomarily clumsy moments, Springsteen and the E-Streeters last the course with assurance.

Where the partners stumble is on a clutch of Stones-like rockes such as ‘Cadillac Ranch’ and ‘I'm A Rocker’ that rely on capable grafting rather than inspiration. They also remind you that for all his worship at the temple of rock 'n' roll, Springsteen album s have rarely competed alongside such as Chuck Berry, the Stones, Rockpile, Marley, Bowie and the Jacksons as prime party disco fare, thus pointing to possible commercial considerations behind this album. The River is no sell-out but it could be 'The Popular Springsteen'.

Otherwise Springsteen's musical gifts remain undiminished if re-orientated. He still retains that second-sense for timing and dramatic dynamics that none of his successor or their bands have emulated, he happily quotes from all manner of sources in both music and lyrics – the Searchers, Sonny and Cher, Chris Montez, Willie De Ville and Roy Acuff on first inventory – and there's also the interest of hearing a more casual, less concentrated sound, that's proper for such an extended and essentially narrative album. Some have mentioned country but when Roy Britten's piano and Danny Federici's organ interweave, I think of the Band in their less idiosyncratic moments and when a harmonica intercedes, mid-sixties Dylan enters the listings.

But that's the noise, not the nouse and alone such stylings only make 'The River' an excellent album for eating, ironing, driving, hoovering and partying. What else has he to offer on his marathon?

Something of a concept, I believe, albeit not one that shamelessly force-feeds the elementary mottos on the defenceless listener. Nonetheless its twenty tracks can all be traced back to the plight of a central character on the title track, a loser at fate's final whistle whose dreams are blighted by a premature teenage marriage consequent on a pregnancy conceived by same 'River'.

Like countless Springsteen characters, he relys on instinct, nerve and bravura but lacks the reflectiveness to anticipate the next low blow from the fates. The marriage breaks up due (possibly) to 'restlessness', of Springsteen's fallen angels rides to perdition. And his 'Wreck Of The Highway'.

As with such doomed heroes, he acts rather than articulates and since all but that closing 'Wreck On The Highway' could be written in his first person, he can't offer much insight into what over-drives him. Moreover, since the relationship is followed fm such an imperceptive male viewpoint – it's "women and children last". Neither have any independent life outside his confused male viewpoint with the one partial exception of 'Point Blank' one of two tracks that moves as Springsteen should.

Compassion there is but it's often confused with self-pity that can only be cured by Springsteen's all-purpose absorbent – 'Love'. As to what causes love, besides adolescent carnality, or what breaks it down, besides boredom, we're left none the wiser. The character of this album is less ambitiously anti-social than the murderer in Badlands but he's still the same blank generator, who values charisma before growth, which is found wanting when the American Dream calls in its sacrifice. There's little here that hasn't been leant from his previous albums.

'The Price We Pay' does strive to measure such ethics and with 'Point Blank' is a moment when the light of insight fails to shine. But otherwise The River declines into all the usual talk about girls, cars and so forth.

Such faults in The River could be due to Springsteen's technical uncertainty once he lumbered himself with such an unappealing character. But such a temporary error, if such it be, won't prevent many self-satisfied people from believing they've understood and commandeered 'the spirit of rock'n'roll' and it won't stop 'The River' from being yet another album that drives rock up a cul de sac by the over-indulged romantic predilection to make martyrs of its heroes. This is certainly one album that won't help human survival.

Nobody can expect rock to be an oracle but that doesn't mean an artist should duck the questions his past work posed.

The effect of this album (and there will be others more at fault in the promotion and critical set-up than Springsteen) could be to further subject rock in its contradictory poses of spurious radicalism and embattled individualism and to entrench those intolerable divisions that are signified by coldness/modernity, warmth, 'authenticity'/conservative style, 'rock'. Our music desperately requires an amalgamation that off-loads both old myths and new poses, an alliance that doesn't mean self-consciousness is linked to gamesmanship and pessimism or that authenticity is an accountant's safest sell.

I think The River occurs because of a climate that won't enable Springsteen to distinguish between his criticisms of other's flawed individuality, and his own necessity for same as 'star'. And I have one cruel final vision – that of guys consoling themselves to "The River" or playing to other girlfriends before a melodramatic break-up. I don't think that's a social service – I hope it isn't what Bruce Springsteen wants either.

He's told his story one time too often.