Men Without Women – Little Steven & the Disciples of Soul

In 1982 Bruce Springsteen was about a big an artist as the rock n’ roll world had and hence it was no surprise that his right hand man was aksed to make a record of his own.

Steve Van Zandt has been the guitarist in the E Street Band and his contributions were essential – whether they were a guitar lick here, a harmony vocal there, a production idea in the studio or a moment of on stage flair that made him a key wing man.

But Stevie was, and remains, a prisoner of rock n’ roll in his own right and his oft-overlooked albums are great examples of the form.

Steve Van Zandt is not the worlds best lead vocalist but he is a very believable one. His nasal tone is dripping with urgency and angst and what he lacks in range he makes up for with passion. On the title track of this album he emotes in a way that neither Springsteen or Southside Johnny could have done about – and whilst his album falls somewhere between both his contemporaries stylistically there’s a need in Van Zandt’s vocal that sets him apart.

There’s a reason why Men Without Women is the title track – it’s not the album’s most impressive song, nor its most ambitious but it has a raw emotion that is almost punk in its aesthetic. The fact that Stevie evolved into a kind of “godfather of garage rock” can easily be traced back to this 2.47 minutes of pure rock n’ roll emotion.

Under The Gun is probably the song that had most chance of being a hit on this album. It’s the album’s most catchy chorus and Toby Scott’s work on the track leaves less to the imagination than on some of the other Clearmountain recorded  songs.

The Disciples of Soul are part E Street and part Jukes, with a few wild cards like Jean Beauvoir thrown in for cover. The Jukes flavour comes through in the horns on songs like Save Me, the buoyant Angel Eyes and Inside of Me, while Princess Of Little Italy finds Van Zandt channelling Willie DeVille with a twist of  early Elvis Costello thrown in.

Van Zandt went on to make albums that had bigger agendas than this one – the follow up Voice Of America was (as the title suggests) a set of songs that painted on a broader canvas. But Men Without Women, with its aching take on personal politics and urban romance was a fine album that more than justified Steve Van Zandt stepping outside the security of the E Street band to make.

As he says on the opening line of the closing song I’ve Been Waiting – ‘I’ve worked hard so I can say nobody owns me”.