Should Bruce Springsteen Be Forgiven?

Supposedly, the songs on Human Touch were Springsteen's attempts at rescuing himself from writer's block. It's an interesting theory. What the hell, at this point in his career, did he have to write about? He was fucking rich, married with kids, had absolutely everything he needed and then some. But he couldn't really write about that, could he?

If merely posing Miami Vice-style on the cover of Tunnel of Love pissed off his blue-collar followers, how would they react if he then turned around and sang to them about the travails of a ­multimillionaire?

Unfortunately, Human Touch's slick production aptly reflects Springsteen's healthy financial state. It's full of cheesy synthesizers, bulbous bass and razor-sharp snare drum snaps. This is, without a doubt, the album's biggest turnoff. Much of it sounds like generic rock for Izod-clad middle-aged men driving Mazda convertibles in Uptown.

And yet I still predict Human Touch will be better appreciated with hindsight. Like Dylan, even at his worst, Springsteen always has a certain magic. Sure, Human Touch contains lyrics like "Baby let me be your soul driver" (???), but it also includes "Real World," a fantastic song about lovers losing their luck, and personal favorite "57 Channels (And Nothin' On)."

On the latter, the Boss evokes a humid, brooding mood similar to that of "State Trooper" from Nebraska. But "57 Channels" is like "State Trooper"'s flip side; we go from a man who has nothing watching a cop tail him in the rearview mirror to a man who has too much and is still discontent. This is, to me, one real proof of Spring­steen's greatness. When he was broke and struggling, he was the working-man's poet. And when he hit it big, he was still capable of pulling chilling lyrics from the depths of his financially secure soul. — Brian J. Barr