Like Magic, released only one year and a couple months ago, Working On A Dream is a superbly lush and meticulously crafted masterpiece. Backed by the E Street Band’s wall of sound and Bruce’s brawny voice, the songs reach extraterrestrial heights without ever sounding cheesy or overblown — even on the ballads, which there are quite a few of this time. Sometimes the lyrics bow in the middle (an example from “The Wrestler:” “Have you ever seen a one-trick pony in the field so happy and free? / Then you’ve seen me”), but Working On A Dream isn’t an album with a subversive political message or social commentary. Years of political insight aside, he’s letting out his inner romantic, and it’s just as epic and refined as anything else he’s done.
Dream’s first song, “Outlaw Pete,” is a soaring, eight-minute-long epic chronicling the life of a fictional Wild West caper, with towering violins and vigorous arena-ready guitars. “My Lucky Day” kicks off with a quick drum roll before the blaring guitars, delitescent piano, and a soulful Clarence Clemon sax solo catapult the song to the clouds. “Good Eye” is a lurching, semiclassic blues rocker where Springsteen howls like a banshee over sawing guitar riffs, dissonant harmonica, and some killer banjo plucking.
The song production in Dream wears its intricate instrumentation like carefully placed jewelry on an outfit; each piece is subtle but essential. The special edition of Dream’s accompanying documentary shows footage of Bruce orchestrating in the studio, being his own producer, and making sure every detail of every song is perfect — and the results of his fastidiousness are downright glorious.
A majority of the songs on this record are power ballads, all of which are endearingly melodramatic and sweet. Bruce falls in love with a grocery store clerk in the flat-out gorgeous “Queen Of The Supermarket,” meditates his life through celestial metaphors in the strummy, folk-rooted “This Life,” and calmly plucks his guitar and serenades his wife in “Tomorrow Never Knows,” a pretty bluegrass number that’s not a cover of the way-experimental Beatles song (though Springsteen could totally pull it off if he tried).
Even if Bruce doesn’t have much left to say about society, he’s clearly in love with his wife. An interesting song called “Surprise, Surprise” comes near the end of the album. The simple refrain (he just repeats “Surprise, surprise / Come on, open your eyes”) is upbeat and tender and doesn’t feel out of placed sandwiched between two ballads. Bruce doesn’t need to write anything more complex than that because the stellar and meticulous musical production speaks for him. Even if the songwriting is a little unsophisticated and unoriginal, he’s probably just saving his social rants for his next masterpiece.
