Not that Springsteen is a simple kinda guy. His songs may be simple in appearance, but are vastly complex in the way they inspire thought and emotion with ever being jingoistic or cloying. Throughout The Rising, he approaches September 11 from a slant-wise perspective, never slamming you in the head with his message, but letting the power of the record flow naturally from the careful craft of his signature emotional ballads and rockers. Its strongest moments often disguise themselves as songs about garden-variety heartache. In fact, in another time, many of the songs could double as that. "You're Missing" includes the words: "Pictures on the nightstand / TV's on in the den / Your house is waiting / For you to walk in / but you're missing." It could be a song about a lost love, like the supremely sad "Downbound Train" from Born in the USA. And then it hits you - the "you" of the title is not just gone from the narrator's life, but from the world, and the levels of sadness become almost too much to bear. "Nothing Man" is a touching account of one survivor's guilt: "I never thought I'd live / to read about myself / in my hometown paper." He is "the nothing man," someone who, by all rights, should not even exist, and the burden he carries is that of those that didn't make it to enjoy another backyard barbecue. Springsteen has nothing useful to say to this "nothing man," no magic balm for his sadness. He just stands back and sadly observes him, and his portrait is so involving and affecting that for the first time, I found myself empathizing with someone who didn't die in the disaster.

But all is not gloom. A heaviness hangs over the album, as well it should, but elsewhere on The Rising, Springsteen offers a possible antidote. He has always believed the best escape is to rock your ass off. "Waitin' on a Sunny Day" is the E-Street Band at its happiest, wrapping a catchy song in a warm blanket of thunderous drums, lilting fiddles and dobros, and Clarence Clemons' instantly recognizable saxophone wail. It's exciting, and uplifting, and damn near brilliant in its familiarity and simplicity. Springsteen knows that The E-Street Band makes us feels good, and here he uses that power not just to make us dance around the room, but to heal our wounds.

Unlike many of the songs we've heard about September 11, The Rising offers no easy answers, and no intimation of vengeful anger at the enemy — quite the opposite, actually. "Better ask questions before you shoot," he warns on "Lonesome Day." "That taste on your tongue don't easily slip away." (The album was written and recorded in the weeks immediately after the attacks, and before shooting was a foregone conclusion.) "World's Apart" is a remarkable song, rising above its Sting-like Sufi choir intro to strike at the heart of more than one matter.