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Springsteen turns out to be particularly interested in rap. "That desire to be heard, to have a voice that can be heard, that seems to be at the core of a lot of the music that I wrote," says Springsteen, who recently published Songs (Avon; $50), a compilation of his song lyrics. "More of those issues are dealt with in hip-hop today than in rock music. I don't know exactly why. Maybe those things are felt more in the hip-hop community, those kinds of immediate frustrations. Maybe that's the connection."
Finally it's time for you to drive away from Springsteen's home. He's up for induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year, and if he doesn't make it in on his first try, they ought to tear the place down. Listening to the rambling, raggedly compelling Tracks makes you realize why you fell in love with his music in the first place. Springsteen found--and still finds--poetry in ordinary working-class life, in guys who work in car washes, guys doing hard time and guys who finished tours of Vietnam. He sees the raw beauty in the North Jersey skyline, in the skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets and in the darkness on the edge of town. Sure, he has faltered at times and made music that seemed overly domesticated, but Tracks vigorously documents Springsteen's struggle to stay committed to his core subject: the postindustrial howl of Everyman. The years haven't muffled that roar.