Now, I'm not insisting that Springsteen had any profound influence on those artists, but I do think it's worth noting that a lot of folks - perhaps in response to the torrent of lies and frauds and death which have largely informed our culture as of late - seem to be seeking out voices which unapologetically lay out the truth, vulnerability be damned. As much as I love the lofty emotional-detachment of a well-crafted rock star pose, right now more than ever I think we need someone giving it to us straight. In a country governed by artifice and denial, what better form of rebellion is there than telling it like it is? The way I see it, candor is the new punk rock. Which means that Magic is arriving with perfect timing.

What, a bit of social commentary to give some perspective ain't enough? Need further proof of the unwavering relevance of Jersey's finest? How about a list of highlights?

- The Hold Steady. I mean, you have listened to Boys and Girls in America, right? If you've ever wondered what it would've been like if the Replacements or Husker Du took on the task of re-telling Born to Run, here you go. These Brooklynites - led by raconteur Craig Finn - deliver some of the most genuinely affecting storytelling about the inner lives of suburban high schoolers since Springsteen, told with an urgency that makes every slow dance, every backseat romance seem like the most earth-shattering drama ever experienced by humankind. Much like Springsteen, Finn has a knack for bringing a mythology to his subjects, these kids who aren't the pimply, awkward mumblers everyone thinks they are, but rather are larger-than-life figures with rich emotional lives and insatiable hungers. Sure, such melodrama shouldn't work when coming from a bunch of guys whose high-school reunions have hit the double-digits, but it does, breathlessly. Oh, and the instrumentation! Check out those brace-yourself-for-something-big piano lines at the start of "Stuck Between Stations." Close your eyes, and you can almost see '70s Springsteen charging up to the microphone as the barroom bluster kicks in.

- The Arcade Fire. Yeah, you heard me. By no means is the Bossitude pervasive on The Neon Bible - not even close - but can I get a witness on "Antichrist Television Blues," people? If I had to pinpoint this song somewhere on the Bruce-ian calendar, I'd probably stick it in the Born in the USA era. I sure hate it when words escape me, but there's something slightly difficult-to-articulate about that handclapping anthem's imperative stride that reminds me ever so slightly of "Dancing in the Dark." Am I alone on this one? I made the observation to a friend, who commented that the song reminded him not as much of Springsteen, but instead of E Street if-only's John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band. Ouch. Honestly, I wasn't sure where to go from there.

- Jesse Malin. It's been quite the journey for the former D Generation frontperson, hasn't it? Over the course of his solo career, Malin has shown himself to be a true rock 'n' roller with a poet's heart. His latest, Glitter in the Gutter (Adeline), overflows with the sort of desperate romanticism of a young Springsteen, particularly on the rompin'-stompin' "Prisoners of Paradise." Broken hearts, late-night ramblers, and wandering souls are given a nearly cinematic treatment, thanks to Malin's insightful lyrics, many of which feel like a continuation of matters explored on The Wild, The Innocent, & The E Street Shuffle. Best of all, Springsteen steps in for a full-throated cameo on "Broken Radio"! Nice.

- The National. OK, maybe it's a one-off, but the modern masters of sordid urban after-hours soundscapes have given a nod to the Boss with the B-side of their latest single from the flawless Boxer album, "Apartment Story." And their cover of "Mansion on the Hill" displays a considerable debt to the master storyteller. Here's hoping they have another go and tackle "State Trooper" next.

- A couple more recent covers, both curiously enough of Born in the USA's "I'm on Fire." I've always adored that smoldering come-on of a song, a welcome respite from some of the bombastic '80s-isms of the album, some of which sound a bit less incendiary over time, due to the production. While "Glory Days" and "Cover Me" feel a bit more dated to these ears, "I'm on Fire" remains as coolly seductive as ever. Timeless, even - an observation also made by two quite dissimilar artists, Electrelane and Bat for Lashes.

Originally released as the B-side to the "On Parade" single, Electrelane's version of the song - since released on Too Pure's Singles, B-Sides, & Live compilation - is a feisty little flamethrower, snarling with attitude and suggesting the fire in question is of more of a vitriolic nature than anything resembling lust. Bat for Lashes' spin on the classic - included at the end of the recent Fur & Gold album - is a somber, stripped-down, yearning slice of heartbreak that could easily fool first-timers into thinking it came from the outtakes of Cat Power's quietly devastating The Covers Record. For an intriguing round of whiplash, may I suggest listening to one version after the after, or better yet, make yourself a Bruce sandwich and slap the original right in the middle?

So, there you go. Fret not, my friends: it's cool to like the Boss again. But really, it always was and always will be. Sure, he's had some missteps here and there, but overall his career displays a remarkable amount of integrity when so many of his peers have lost their way over the years. And like I said, sincerity is in. With today's cultural landscape, I'll take it wherever I can get it.