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Pop/Rock

Bruce Springsteen 'Magic' (Columbia)

The last time Springsteen hit the studio with the E Street Band, the specter of 9/11 hung heavy and the result was "The Rising," a record that reflected the shock and dread of the time and tried to find a way out of that darkness.

Since then, the Boss has indulged his muse with the somber acoustic "Devils & Dust" and a Pete Seeger tribute, "We Shall Overcome," celebrating simpler, although not necessarily happier, days.

Those waiting for Springsteen to set his controls for somewhere around 1984 and the glory days of "Born in the U.S.A." nearly get their wish with "Magic," a perfect record to launch another E Street tour. This is Bruce and the boys back in their comfort zone, starting with a fiery rocker, "Radio Nowhere," that has little else on its mind than finding a little rhythm on a lonely night drive.

There's a lot to like about "Magic": familiar melodies from days' past, big ensemble playing, well-worn vocals as powerful as ever and a poetic lyric sheet that leaves something to the imagination.

On the downside, for the second straight album Springsteen has turned to Brendan O'Brien (Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots and Incubus), whose souped-up style was better suited to grunge than rock 'n' roll. At eight members, with four guitars blaring, the E Street Band is already a cumbersome bunch, and O'Brien doesn't help matters with his highly processed production that squashes the highs and lows and leaves little room for the songs to breathe. (Let a guitar sound like a guitar!)

Aside from one bad hire, the Boss did his part. "Magic" is a substantive record with musical echoes not only to his past but to his beloved pop radio's. "Livin' in the Future" borrows from "Cover Me," "Radio Nowhere" has Tommy Tutone's number, and "Girls in Their Summer Clothes" hints at "Pet Sounds" with a melody from The Who's "The Kids Are Alright."

Springsteen manages to get his message out while having some fun in the process. "Livin' in the Future," sure to be a concert staple, is a jubilant rocker, complete with Clarence Clemons solo, that almost disguises its darker message about the State of the Union: "My faith's been torn asunder," he sings, "tell me is that rollin' thunder/or just the sinkin' sound/of somethin' righteous goin' under."

"Gypsy Biker," with its lonesome harmonica and sizzling guitar solo echoing back to "Darkness on the Edge of Town," is a blazing yet melancholy soldier's story dealing with the deadly dance of patriotism and war. "The favored march up over the hill/in some fools parade/shoutin' victory for the righteous/but there ain't much here but graves."

"Last to Die," the most propulsive and powerful track on the record (led by Soozie Tyrell's violin), is a direct hit on the war effort, with Springsteen wailing, "We don't measure the blood we've drawn anymore" and alluding to John Kerry's Vietnam speech with the chilling chorus: "Who'll be the last to die for a mistake/whose blood will spill/whose heart will break."

One of the rare times "Magic" slows down is for the title track, which, in the somber tone of "Tom Joad" or "Devils," tells an ominous tale of deceit and "bodies hangin' in the trees."

Anti-war songs come out practically every week, but the 58-year-old Springsteen, an artist who has earned the right to the soapbox, brings some extra gravitas, not to mention subtlety, to the proceedings.

"Girls in Their Summer Clothes" is one of those detailed street scenes he excels at, sung with a touch of heartbreak. "Long Walk Home," a bittersweet take on the state of small-town America, is another new concert anthem whose meaning will be up to the listener. The finale, "Devil's Arcade," is as sweeping as anything he's done, where the body is a glorious kingdom and the one true moment is "the beat of your heart ..."

A bonus track, "Terry's Song," is a spare tribute on guitar and harmonica to a late friend and stands as one of the most moving songs on a record that's full of them.

There's something about the billing of an E Street Band album that raises your hopes for another "Born to Run," another "Darkness" or another "River." Of course, we all know you really can't go back to the glory days. It's a different kind of magic that Bruce Springsteen pulls out of his hat these days.

-- Scott Mervis, Post-Gazette pop music critic

John Fogerty 'Revival' (Concord)

For all his strengths, John Fogerty never believed much in subtlety. Every aspect of "Revival" drives the point that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member has returned to the classic, big-riff sound of his '60s band, Creedence Clearwater Revival. He posts signs everywhere: the album title, the iconic, silhouette photo on the cover, even a tribute to the durability of his own music on "Creedence Song."

All of which begs the question: When did he ever waver from this sound? He has taken a couple of side roads, as in his 1973 album, a solo album recorded under the name Blue Ridge Rangers. But since his 1985 comeback album, "Centerfield," he has stuck to the same unpretentious mix of swamp rhythms and meaty guitar riffs that made Creedence so catchy and singular.

While "Revival" sticks to basics, it rarely sounds as inspired as his best work. The first single, "Don't You Wish It Was True," captures that jubilant spirit and the thrill of a good sing-along chorus that's always been Fogerty's trademark, and "It Ain't Right" has a crisp rockabilly energy that celebrates how viscerally the 62-year-old Californian can rock.

But too many songs feature riffs that are too simple and stripped down. Also, with the exception of the exhilarating "I Can't Take It No More," a high-speed putdown of the current president, too many of the songs strive for a political message but settle for backhanded swipes.

-- Michael McCall, The Associated Press

R&B

Keyshia Cole 'Just Like You' (Imani/Geffen)

Here's the story with Keyshia Cole: Between signing a record deal at 21 and this, her second CD, the rugged-but-righteous soprano whose silken voice never lost its feel for the real conquered the R&B-hop world.

She collaborated with Eve and Kanye.

She debuted with "The Way It Is" -- a record as raw in its heartbroken emotion as it was in its groove. She was cooler than Ashanti, harder than Kelis and darn near ready to take on Beyonce.

That's why this sophomore effort is disappointing. Cole still possesses a gem of a voice that portrays busted-up-ness better than most. And the rough-edged likes of "Didn't I Tell You" (featuring nasty old Too Short) and "Let It Go" (with Missy Elliott and Lil' Kim) still hippity hop. But too often Cole surrounds her vocals with plush strings and plaintive pianos. It would have seemed impossible to dwarf her. But the rush to lushness that is "Heaven Sent" and several other tracks makes Keyshia seem small. Better is the bare beats-driven romancer "Last Night." Even Diddy's listless rap can't screw it up. Make more of those, Keyshia.

--A.D. Amorosi, Philadelphia Inquirer