No Miracles Here
Bruce Springsteen's Human Touch and Lucky Town were released 24 years ago this month. But unlike some of his other records' milestones, it seems unlikely that there'll ever be much time spent celebrating the anniversary of either of them. No lavishly packaged box sets (featuring interviews with all the major players talking about Bruce's endless quest for greatness) or full album concert performances. Hard to imagine we'll be seeing Bruce and the so-called 'Other Band' hitting the road to commemorate the anniversary of these records in quite the manner that Bruce and the E Streeters are currently doing with The River.
Instead Human Touch and Lucky Town will go down in Springsteen history as something of a mis-step. Human Touch was several years in the making and its of-its-time production and over-cooked lyrics don't wear its long gestation lightly. Lucky Town, on the other hand, was knocked off in a couple of months (inspired initially , it's said, by Dylan's 'Series of Dreams') and you can almost tell that too. It's a lighter record for sure but it sounds like the howl of a man released from a prison of his own making. Human Touch is like that guest who gets the date wrong and arrives a day late while Lucky Town is the guest that arrives way too early for a party and gets in the way by trying to help. Either way, it's never the right time to have either of them in the house.
When these records came out in 1992, Springsteen had been off the radar for a while, working on his home life and facing up to a work life without the comforting (although, to him, suffocating) support of the E Street Band. There'd been no interviews and few appearances since the end of the Amnesty Human Rights Tour in late 1988. None, that is, apart from two solo charity shows in LA around late 1990 when Springsteen premiered intimate versions of some of the songs that later wound up on Human Touch. Those performances were hesitant, stark and unflinching, often accompanied by long introductions contextualising what the audience was about to hear. At the time, rumours abounded that the Springsteen camp was so pleased with the performance that he considered releasing it as his next record. Hindsight tells us that he probably should have.
Instead, by the time Human Touch surfaced in March '92. songs like Soul Driver, Real World and 57 Channels (And Nothing On) had been stripped of what made them compelling and instead were saddled with a performance and production that buried the very thing that elevated them the first time around. That's not to say there isn't good material on Human Touch. The title song, as brooding as it is, builds to a cathartic finish (although, at six and a half minutes, it outstays its welcome a bit) while With Every Wish – surely the only song of the last 30 years to feature a character called Doreen – points listeners in the direction of some of the more reflective songs (Secret Garden, Across the Border, Maria's Bed) that would fill out much of Springsteen's later work. Elsewhere, I Wish I Were Blind, perhaps Springsteen's most yearning song of romantic longing – with the exception of Back in Your Arms – stands out from a second side that labours to the point of exhaustion. Much of the rest can be divided into two camps - self-conscious (and unsuccessful) attempts to write hit singles (Roll of the Dice, Man's Job and Real Man) and last chance power drive boot-to-the-floor rockers (All or Nothing at All, Gloria's Eyes) that are pale imitation of the kind of thing Springsteen could once do in his sleep.
Lucky Town was frontloaded with rock songs - Better Days, Local Hero, Lucky Town – that came closer to hitting the target. Maybe they just felt a bit more honest. In Better Days, Springsteen describes himself as a 'rich man in a poor man's shirt' with a 'life of leisure and a pirate's treasure' - something he'd probably think twice about doing today. Later in Local Hero he attempts to make light of the notoriety that fame has brought him. Perhaps it was the delivery - for one thing Lucky Town sounded warmer and more immediate than Human Touch although he could've stood the gospel singers down for a song or two. The ballads (Book of Dreams and If I Should Fall Behind) were seemingly more personal than anything on Human Touch and certainly all the better for it. That's not to say everything was golden. Souls of the Departed, with its weighty references to Basra and East Compton Cholos doesn't ever manage to get out of its own way. And Leap of Faith, released as a single shortly after the two records' release is one gospel-influenced song too many. But, compared to Human Touch, these are small complaints. The good on Lucky Town is better than the best of Human Touch while the bad never sinks as low as the likes of Real Man, which sounds like a beer commercial written by Huey Lewis and the News, does. But it's still all an incoherent mess. For years, fans have argued about how to take the best from both records and turn it into a strong single record. But it can't be done - the two records are so different that there's no way to make them live with each other. Like putting dinner ingredients together with dessert and trying to make something palatable.
Reviews at the time weren't especially kind to Human Touch and were only slightly nicer to Lucky Town, In truth, there wasn't an enormous amount of love for either. And unlike most rock legends' whose unloved records have gone on to be reappraised favourably, nobody seems inclined to go back and give Human Touch or Lucky Town a second chance. It's not surprising - both records sound like a man struggling to find his way and throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks. There's a lack of confidence, a lack of a big message. It's Springsteen at maximum perspiration, minimal inspiration.
Last week I listened to Human Touch and Lucky Town for the first time in a long time. And they're exactly as I remembered. There's no hidden surprises, nothing revealing itself after all this years. The songs I heard in 1992 sound much the same now. The ones I liked then are still my favourites. The ones I didn't like haven't gotten any better. And all the time I'm listening, I'm wondering "why is he shouting so much?" These are both very shouty records. But you'd have thought that something might have changed in 24 years. When Human Touch and Lucky Town were released, I knew little of romantic doubt or loss or therapy. Of the kind of self-awareness and confession presented to us on Lucky Town. When Springsteen sang "So you've been broken and you've been hurt, show me somebody who ain't." I thought, "That's me, Bruce - I ain't never been broken or been hurt!". Back then I barely understood what it meant to have 57 Channels and nothing on. Now we're all 24 years older and I've experienced a little more of what life can throw at you. So you'd think it might mean more now. That I could relate more to the pain or the joy on the records. But I don't - because none of it sounds real.
Here's a contrast. When I first heard Tunnel of Love in 1987 I didn't know what any of the things he was singing about felt like either - but I believed he meant what he was singing. And years later, when life and love had collided, it made even more sense. Because it still sounded true. But when you listen to Human Touch and Lucky Town you don't really believe that Springsteen was fully committed to what he was saying. Even the act of releasing both records on the same day betrays his uncertainty. A lack of conviction. A sense of "if they don't like what I'm saying here, they might like what I'm saying there".
From his first record up to (almost) his most recent, you always get a sense of what Springsteen is thinking. He gets it across onstage, in interviews or in the 10 or 12 songs he presents at any given time. 24 years later, Human Touch and Lucky Town stand as the one time in his recording career that Springsteen spent an age trying to decide what he was going to say and ended up saying very little at all.
And the less we say about those godawful record covers the better!
