Here is the review that I read.

Bruce Springsteen crowds his new *album with shattered characters.

On his latest solo work, "Devils & Dust," out tomorrow, we meet a soldier who's conflicted about killing, a john who pays a listless visit to a prostitute, a migrant worker who speaks from beyond the grave, a boxer who feels that every punch corrupts his soul, and a clutch of drifters cramped by loneliness and loss.

They're spiritual cousins to the border guards, drug mules and motherless children who populated Springsteen's last solo record, 1995's "The Ghost of Tom Joad." Like that CD, "Devils" is dark, slow, serious and — oh, let's finally be honest here — a full-on chore to listen to.

Is there any Springsteen fan who looks forward to albums like these?

Most fans probably greet Bruce's somber, acoustic-based records like a plate of Brussels sprouts they have to choke down to get to dessert.

But it's not a philistine fear of dreariness that limits the appeal, and playability, of Springsteen's new CD. It's that in order for such intensely brooding music to move us, it has to be infused with enough personal consequence, and layers of beauty, to turn the pain poignant.

Unfortunately, "Devils & Dust," like "Tom Joad," mainly finds Springsteen in a murmuring rut. While other players appear on the CD, the focus remains on Springsteen's rickety guitar and broken vocals. Both seem so weighed down by their dire subject matter, they're often squashed.

On the DVD side of this DualDisc (the only format "Devils & Dust" comes in) Springsteen explains that to find the right voices for his characters, he had to suppress his own, then let theirs come forth.

But most of what we hear is suppression, not revelation. To express the characters' quandaries, Springsteen winds up singing into his chest in a voice that's too inexpressive — too literally crestfallen — to convey the range of feelings it means to nail.

The first time Springsteen explored this bleak terrain, on his solo debut, 1982's "Nebraska," he had a greater vocal range at his command and a more animated sense of melody.

Over the years, both have suffered wear and tear. The few hummable melodies on "Devils & Dust" arrive in the arrangements, not the basic tunes. Without their added filigree, the CD would hardly have any pleasures at all.

That's a shame, considering Springsteen's continued brilliance as a lyricist. He can always find a fresh route into a character and *offer a smart line.

In "Black Cowboys," Springsteen spins a tale about an African-American kid from Mott Haven whose mother worries about him when, in fact, she's the one in danger. The boy winds up leaving home to become a new kind of cowboy. In "The Hitter," Springsteen tells a boxer's tale in a way that lets the listener in on every physical and psychological nuance.

Springsteen takes a risk in "Reno" by using uncommonly raw language to tell the tale of a whore who deludes herself into thinking she's her john's salvation.

But you'll get more goose bumps from reading the lyric sheet than from listening to the music. Springsteen sounds like he's embarrassed by the subject matter of "Reno." In "The Hitter," his sense of defeat can feel like a whine.

Maybe Springsteen should try writing about himself again. He hasn't done so in 13 years — not since "Lucky Town" and "Human Touch." And his work has suffered for it. It's as if Springsteen bought the lie that anyone blessed with great wealth and love leads an uninteresting life.

Springsteen struck an ideal approach to a solo album on 1987's "Tunnel of Love," a personal work that brimmed with threat, passion and honesty. By contrast, "Devils & Dust" sounds like an intellectual conceit, a liberal's musing on unfortunate souls rather than a deep probing of the author's own.