Badlands

Big statements are a big deal. It's something I just said, in Poets and Prophecy. Or, rather, I said it on September 20, 2003, and it's just seeing the light of day now. But that's part of the point. It's big to understand what time means around culture, and to understand that real culture takes real time to see the light of day. And Poets and Prophecy seeing the light of day made me think about rock, and what the moments are in rock that have in-built real bigness, real largesse. I often do say that Springsteen is my favorite lyricist in rock music, for the simple reason that, for my money, he's the best at making the Big Statements that will hold up the best over long periods of time, starting from the East Coast. Badlands is a case in point. I'm not going to say too much about where America is in 2026. Except to say that it's an awfully strange time, ensconced in a strange decade. Badlands is strange, too, because the lyrics express stern resolve, but the music expresses triumphant release. The narrator is getting something big off his chest, that has needed saying for a long time. He doesn't mince words; he gets directly to the point swiftly. Where we find ourself is in the big terrain in which an individual looks at the whole of human life and earth and lays down his own set of laws. Here's how things are. Not, of course, what we want things to be. And all the steely resolve is just about telling the truth, being real. Sounds simple, but it's not. That's one reason to put some chips down on Badlands to last a long time. The other is that the sound of triumphant release, of truth springing forward, never gets old. Time will tell us.