With the country in its current state of war and a floundering economy, those musicians with a political message are being given the cold shoulder in favor of flag-waving patriots; those who pose no threat to the patriotism being pushed on us by the Bush administration. One exception to this rule is Bruce Springsteen, who in the past few years has gone from aging rock icon to one of the most influential and relevant rock stars in the country.

What better time is there than now to examine one of his most classic statements, an album released 20 years ago this past summer. This album was written during the Reagan era, and in 2003 its critiques of the wealthy and ruminations on dying cities have become suddenly, startlingly relevant.

The album is Born in the USA, and for those of you who remember the title track simply as the patriotic anthem used by Reagan for his 1984 re-election campaign, listen again. The song, like others on the album, uses a simple, clear-cut refrain to mask an angry and sarcastic message. In this case it comes from a Vietnam vet whose life has been turned upside down by a cold and compassionless government. “I had a brother at Khe Sahn fighting off the Viet Cong,” Springsteen snarls, “Theyíre still there, he’s all gone.” Even juxtaposed with back-up singers chiming those title words over buoyant keyboards, one wonders how Reagan ignored the message.

What makes Born in the USA a timeless album is the fact that it refuses to be abstract. Springsteen keeps the personal style that made him famous on Born to Run and Darkness on the Edge of Town by using those same kinds of characters and feelings: the people we’ve known and the people we are. Even “Cover Me,” a song about wanting to retreat when the times get tough, obviously correlates to times of an uncaring government in which the rich get richer and the poor get a whole lot of heartache. “The whole world is out there just tryin’ to score,” Bruce spits, and we all want to stomp our feet in agreement.

The songs on Born in the USA, as is demonstrated in “Cover Me,” are all about a need to escape that will never be quenched. Sure, the theme was the same on Born to Run and Darkness, but there is something about these songs that is more desperate. The Boss wants out, and he wants out now. “Darlington County” tells of two men clinging to a pathetic, adolescent way of life, while “Working on the Highway” starts out with a man run ragged by the daily grind. At the end of the story, he gets sent to prison, only to experience the same life he led on the outside: work with no chance of relief.

“Downbound Train” is the saddest and most beautiful song on the record; the one in which everything falls apart. He loses his job, and his wife leaves him. In the most poignant of lines, Springsteen sighs, “Now I work down at the car wash where all it ever does is rain. Don’t you feel like you’re a rider on a downbound train.” “I’m On Fire” is what comes out of that, a haunting tune about a lost soul in search of anything to ease his pain. In what is perhaps the emotional summary of the album, Bruce sings, “Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley in the middle of my soul.”

Born in the USA basically slips back and forth between two planes: active, desperate searching and living life in a dream world. While “I’m On Fire” fell into the former category, “No Surrender” is definitely the latter. Springsteen reminisces about his childhood, thinking back on everything they thought was possible and wondering why it never was or will be. This continues with “Bobby Jean,” a song about a girl he let get away, gone somewhere maybe in this world or the next, out of reach just like so many other things in life.

The musical tone of the songs on Born in the USA is very consistent; like all Springsteen songs they are full of thick sound and driving, hard melodies. “Bobby Jean” and “Downbound Train” each have a touch of melancholy to them that packs them with emotion.

“I’m Goin’ Down” deals with a lull in a long relationship, while “Glory Days” focuses on the theme of a youth lost forever. It is almost as if Bruce is chastising himself for the foolish sentimentality of “No Surrender” and “Darlington County.” This feeling is fully realized on “Dancing in the Dark,” in which Bruce gives himself a strong slap in the face, forcing himself to shift from do-nothing dreamer to actively searching for satisfaction in the world. In a poignant bridge, he states ‘You sit around getting older. There’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me. I’ll shake this world off my shoulders. Come on baby, this laugh’s on me.”

“Dancing in the Dark” is the song on the album which most immediately conveys this ever-present feeling of longing and self-loathing so present in a world where it is impossible to get ahead. It’s no surprise that it was the biggest mainstream hit on the album.

The last song on Born in the USA takes us right back to where we started: a blatant statement on the failures of the American government and the economic disrepair of small-town America. “My Hometown” focuses on small-town pride being tested by racial tension and economic ruin. He expresses the state of many small towns today with descriptions like, “Now Main Street’s whitewashed windows and vacant stores, seems like there ain’t nobody wants to come down here no more.”

This is the perfect sentiment to sum up the situation of the country. The American people, much like the characters Springsteen creates, do not know which way to turn; they don’t know what their place is. The government is fighting a war that a lot of us don’t agree with, and we are being governed by a president that the majority of us did not elect. Many Americans are disoriented. They do not know what is happening in their country or why. The songs on this album reflect the way people begin to feel when they become trapped in way of life they don’t like, and there’s not a damn thing they can do about it.

Born in the USA is an album that expresses many universal emotions: doubt, longing, desperation, and fear. But it ties these so closely to real situations, both personal and political, that what is left is a timeless and beautiful masterpiece, both musically and emotionally, which can lift spirits if only through commiseration. Born in the USA boasts a statement that has been made by many, but never made at such a time, by such a working class hero. All these emotions come to us through our bedroom speakers, and we pump our collective fists like Bruce does, bolstered by a steady blast from Clarence Clemens’ saxophone.