of the runaway American dream as the country greedily blundered its way through the '80s.

With the mighty exception of Born in the U.S.A., however – a veritable greatest-hits album in itself – Springsteen's standing as a singles artist has seemed an incidental byproduct of his main focus: arraying his songs in theme-driven album-length statements. For this reason, Greatest Hits comes across as a collection of familiar songs, each stellar in its own right, that somehow adds up to something less than the sum of its parts – even with the grafted-on bonus of four new tracks recorded with the E Street Band.

First of all, this album is not even what it purports to be. A straightforward program of Springsteen's greatest hits would at least have had the virtue of a governing logic. Although some Bruce-smitten critic blessed with second sight will no doubt divine a wishful thesis about the "story" it tells, the simple fact is that Greatest Hits liberally violates its stated premise. Absent for reasons unfathomable are five Top 10 hits ("Cover Me," "I'm Goin' Down," "I'm on Fire," "War" and "Tunnel of Love"), as well as such essential charting singles as "Prove It All Night" (No. 33), "Fade Away" (No. 20) and "One Step Up" (No. 13). Also missing is anything preceding "Born to Run," which leaves out a big chunk of the Springsteen story. If the album's assemblers could find reason to include "Atlantic City," which failed to crack the Top 100, surely there was room for "Blinded by the Light" and "Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)." Those, too, rank among his greatest hits – ask anyone partial to FM radio or Springsteen concerts – despite the lack of corroboration from the charts.

In the early years of his career, a whole new palette of possibilities emerged from Springsteen's energetic vision – a playful, swinging landscape in which Bob Dylan met Roy Orbison at the Jersey Shore to a soundtrack produced by Phil Spector. All of that seemed to sour after Born to Run as Springsteen simultaneously fought a bruising legal battle with a former manager and tasted superstardom freighted with its share of hype. Thereafter, he began taking ever more penetrating and disillusioned looks into the troubled American psyche. His melancholy songs were often so intimate and personal (witness Nebraska) that the E Street Band eventually seemed an encumbrance,