Is there anybody out there? It’s a simple question searching for a connection. Bruce Springsteen asks the question in “Radio Nowhere,” the lead single from his 15th album, Magic.
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In a post-apocalyptic world, Springsteen hears a drone bouncing off a satellite as he desperately searches for life, or as he told Rolling Stone, “soul.” With communication breaking down, the Boss is trying to connect to people. It’s his life’s mission. It’s the whole point of the E Street Band. He said, “It comes down to trying to make people happy, feel less lonely.” Speaking to the vital things in people’s lives—economic, political, and religious—is the language he speaks.
I was tryin’ to find my way home
But all I heard was a drone
Bouncing off a satellite
Crushin’ the last lone American night
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
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Zooming in for a closer view, “Radio Nowhere” may also reflect corporate flattening of culture. The irony of large corporations is how they facilitate what greed destroys. Released in 2007, Magic came into the world alongside reality TV and American Idol, the most-watched show on television. In Springsteen’s world, the radio played the songs that changed your life. However, pre-programmed playlists replaced the disc jockey with the same 40 songs spinning banality across the country. Consolidation is subtraction, and subtraction ends with fewer voices.
I was spinnin’ ’round a dead dial
Just another lost number in a file
Dancin’ down a dark hole
Just searchin’ for a world with some soul
The Way of the World
Disposable pop culture isn’t new or unique to the era, but it does feel like technology has increased the speed, leaving behind several industries like grimy roadkill. Entertainment is a business, and art’s David and Goliath battle against commerce is an old story, but it would be nice if the default commodity weren’t the golden arches.
Back to the broken connection, Springsteen is the ultimate connector. His concerts feel like church, and the stadium pews fill with people speaking in tongues.
I want a thousand guitars
I want pounding drums
I want a million different voices speaking in tongues
It’s all revival and salvation when the Boss takes the stage, backed by the E Street Rock’ N’ Roll Choir. What he sings about is fundamental to the human condition: The need for community, fear of being alone or left behind, overcoming despair, or trying to support a family on minimal income are the reasons why the stadiums fill like church pews. The unfortunate reality of life in America is there are far more people struggling than prospering. Struggle is why blues, country, folk, and soul music endures. For a connection to work, it must fit.
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Jenny, I’ve Got Your Number
The Boss’s guitar riff to “Radio Nowhere” sounds suspiciously (or deliciously) similar to Tommy Tutone’s classic piece of power pop, “867-5309 / Jenny.” When asked about the similarity between the two songs, the band’s singer, Tommy Heath, said to the Chicago Tribune, “Everybody’s calling me about it.” Heath said he was honored and decided against taking legal action.
Springsteen uses the E Street Band like an instrument on Magic, where producer Brendan O’Brien turns up the guitars and Max Weinberg drives the anthem, peaking with Clarence Clemons’s sax solo. Springsteen is supported by Steven Van Zandt and Patti Scialfa on backing vocals, turning the chorus into a revolution. If the airwaves are, indeed, dead, Springsteen’s call to action fires like a warning shot.
In 1997, Richard Ashcroft sang in “Bittersweet Symphony,” The airwaves are clean, and there’s nobody singing to me, now. Springsteen answered The Verve singer with an undeniable anthem, speaking to the same sentiment proving globalized struggle is an equal opportunity condition.
The Rising
In the five years between The Rising and Magic, Springsteen recorded his third acoustic album and completed his folk trilogy with Nebraska and The Ghost of Tom Joad. Then, he recorded a collection of traditional folk songs popularized by Pete Seeger, and the protest spirit of Seeger echoes on Magic.
In “The Rising,” Springsteen uses religious imagery to tell the story of New York City firefighters ascending burning buildings in the wake of the September 11 terrorist attacks. He settles into a kind of hallelujah because there’s nothing else to say in the face of such bravery, beauty, and sadness.
The despair of “Radio Nowhere” is more abstract than the devastation of 9/11, but it’s no less helpful in finding the answer to his question: Is there anybody out there?
Photo by M. Von Holden/FilmMagic
