Who cares about rugged, righteous old Bruce Springsteen any more? It's hard nowadays to remember the cultural and critical impact of a man unironically called The Boss for most of the '70s and '80s. You want staunch, rootsy evocations of the common American life? You do the same as most name-dropping musicians and go buy a Bob Dylan or Neil Young album.
Not so fast, though. 'Badlands' is a tribute to Springsteen's bleak and raw magnum opus, the collection of four-track demos he released as 'Nebraska' in 1982. Here, the album's ten songs (plus three out-takes) are covered by a cast of musicians mainly drawn from the ranks of new country, alt-country and whichever fractionally radical way of wearing a stetson's in fashion this week.
The homogeneity of the artists, plus the austerity of producer Jim Sampas' stipulations - everything recorded on four-track -make for a stiflingly worthy album with precious few curveballs. As Dar Williams, Deanna Carter, Ani Di Franco and Aimee Mann queue up to pay homage, it's tough telling any of them apart. Occasionally, the odd track rises above the earnest mulch: Hank Williams III's raucous honky-tonk crack at 'Atlantic City'; Son Volt's richly melancholic reading of 'Open All Night'.
A much older master than Springsteen, however, provides the definitive track. Johnny Cash, as he does with every song, takes 'I'm On Fire' as his own, imbuing it with fathomless depths of wisdom and longing, showing the outlaw spirit the others so patently lack. In the midst of these 'Badlands', it's a rare and valuable moment of personality triumphing over respect.
