Where so many young rock bands struggle to liberate themselves from the tyranny of influence, the Gaslight Anthem simply embrace it. Every album, every song, every lyric makes some overt musical or lyrical reference to the New Jersey greasers' working-class heroes-- Bruce Springsteen, Joe Strummer, Tom Petty. And while there ain't a lick of jazz in their music, the Gaslight Anthem give their songs names like "The Spirit of Jazz" and "Miles Davis & the Cool" and "The '59 Sound" in an attempt to recapture some bygone, ineffable standard of hipness that can only be gleaned by staring at old Blue Note album covers. Like Arcade Fire before them, they've also graduated from being mere Springsteen fans to becoming the Boss' onstage duet partners, and on their new album, American Slang, the Gaslight Anthem even try their hand at reggae riddims, because, well, Joe would've wanted it that way.
But the Gaslight Anthem are not a band simply awash in nostalgia; their songs are about the very concept of nostalgia. And most importantly, they understand that nostalgia is not a lens through which we fondly reminiscence about the past, but a gauge by which we evaluate our troubled present. On American Slang, the follow-up to the Gaslight Anthem's 2008 triumph The '59 Sound, frontman Brian Fallon is utterly consumed by the idea that his best days are behind him-- three songs contain a variation on the dewy-eyed phrase "when we/you were young," and on another, he seemingly gets frustrated with his own backward-glancing impulses, angrily demanding, "Don't sing me the songs about the good times/ Those days are gone and you should just let them go." So in this sense, the Gaslight Anthem's Springsteen/Strummer worship is less about idolatry and mimicry than a defense mechanism against a modern world that's presented them with no new heroes to aspire to.
For about half of American Slang, the Gaslight Anthem simply barrel ahead like they're making The '60 Sound, with briskly paced rockers like "Stay Lucky", "Orphans", and "The Spirit of Jazz" nudging the band's blue-collar punk towards Replacements-vintage power pop. But elsewhere, the prevailing quarterlife-crisis angst has a perceptible effect on the band's disposition-- where The '59 Sound burst out of the gates, American Slang moves forward in more measured spurts and, in pained power ballad "We Did It When We Were Young", it even momentarily succumbs to U2-itis (as earnest rock bands inevitably do).
However, if mid-tempo stompers like the title track and "Bring It On" lack the do-or-die exhilaration of the band's best songs-- and rely too heavily on Fallon's strained, rust-covered pipes to deliver the necessary drama-- other attempts at downshifting successfully open up the band's sound. Where most Springsteen-swooned indie-rockers strive for *Born to Run-*scale grandeur, "The Diamond Church Street Choir" effectively opts for a cool "Spirit in the Night" sway over which Fallon, like Bruce in his Asbury Park days, offers up rich street-scene details and character portraits of the New Jersey neighborhood that birthed his band. And the aforementioned dub dalliance, "The Queen of Lower Chelsea", proves to be American Slang's emotional center, its skittering rhythm guiding Fallon's tragic-hero protagonist along her lonesome journey from New York to London, en route to the song's heroic chorus. Even if many of the album's lyrics find Fallon looking back in anger, American Slang ultimately proves The Gaslight Anthem are not afraid to move forward.
