Songs for a film that never came to be, Faithless, is restricted by its initial intent. No looking back can salvage new meaning from this Bruce Springsteen release. But that is the beauty of this Tracks II: The Lost Albums addition. Hearing The Boss work on a film score, something he had dabbled with only briefly on Philadelphia and later Dead Man Walking, is a fascinating experience. Delicate moments on dusty roads, of contemplation sandwiched between Devils and Dust and The Seeger Sessions. The latter project has a heavier influence on Faithless than anything else, as Springsteen looks to find the spiritual core of the United States. He has found it once before and was disgusted at what he found. Head further back, then, deeper into the dark heart of a country. Springsteen is desperate to find some sense of community, a flicker of hope in the lands which have offered little to the new generation.
He finds it here. Brief spots of what he initially found in the States, that pride comes through on Where You Going, Where You From, a rambler-like classic guided by drifting acoustics. That instrumental lightness is a tremendous vessel for the lead character. Whoever that was, it is now a listener-shaped hole which Springsteen offers. The title track is stronger in the wider context of this release, with Faithless in isolation a relatively stripped-back affair of finding true love on the road. Backed by the likes of Where You Going, Where You From, and some contemplative instrumental pieces, Faithless is a far stronger project than the lead single let on. This is not a tender collection, though. Springsteen is keen to make that clear with a startlingly gruff moment on All Gods Children. He takes on the role of volatile prospector, shouting the word of the Lord with the same passion heard in the very best of those trail-like country songs.
Springsteen adapts his voice extremely well to songs detailing a sort of religious rapture. How much of this is adapting to the expectations of the canned film, and how much is genuine commentary from Springsteen, is a line blurred well by The Boss. God Sent You features a tremendous outing of Springsteen’s Catholic roots. There is sincerity in the writing, the backing vocalists adding that inevitable gospel tinge which cements the very best of the genre. A blur of country and gospel is hard to turn into a lasting experience, but The Boss succeeds with these film soundtrack fragments. My Master’s Hand features the very best example of this, a blurring of the line between religiously guided country roots and a showcase of instrumental thrills. Harmonica spots, a bit of piano mixed in for good measure, and the many moving parts of My Master’s Hand are a touching experience, and one of the best to come from Faithless.
An instrumental version of My Master’s Hand closes out Faithless, an album which feels bigger than the film it was intended for. There may be adaptations here or there, made for the benefit of a film which never came to be, but what Faithless now offers is a considered walk through Springsteen’s faith. How much of it is intended as adaptations of characters, and how much is presented as the introspective thoughts of a songwriter dealing with his ties to God, is unknowable. That presents a necessary layer to Faithless. We cannot fully dissect the character from the creative. There is a blurring of the line, which gives Faithless a sincerity, but also a bit of Hollywood flair. Those harmonica cries on My Master’s Hand tug at the heartstrings just as much as the commentaries on finding yourself, on faith as a healer and harmer, found on Faithless.
