It could be ten summers ago, a sunny truant afternoon … transfixed by "Freewheelin'" marvelling that this guy named Dylan could articulate so brilliantly the most secret emotions.

But it's not: it's 1973,… and here I am with an album by a totally unfamiliar fellow called Springsteen, and I'm getting exactly the same feelings. Even now that I know most of the words [on "Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J."], and can sing along with the record, the adrenalin rushes so hard that its headiness makes writing difficult, and I just want to listen to the record again. And again….

I first heard of [Springsteen] a couple of weeks ago in an American magazine which printed some of his lyrics. Just reading his verses was a buzz: taking their cue from the image-spitting Dylan of "Subterranean Homesick Blues," they leapt off the printed page with a vivid attack which was...