Over time, I have found that politics has roughly the same effect on artists that oxygen does on iron. It erodes their essential qualities and turns them to rust.
Art though, still endures.
When Bruce Springsteen first burst onto the stage in the late 70's, he was a fresh (if sand-graveled) voice fueled by youthful energy, surrounded by superior musicians, and aided by the craftsmanship of studio production wizards.
I saw two of his concerts, one in 1978 and the other in 1980. They still stand among the greatest shows I have ever seen, owing in no small measure to the kinetic force of the crowds that fed on the E Street Band's own power to move audiences to emotional heights and crashing depths.
In truth: I thought that Springsteen's acoustic album Nebraska was the last great work that he created, with his songwriting and effort declining slowly from that point, becoming formulaic, trite and commercially-focused.
The political infusion that followed, gradually but perhaps inevitably, began to eat away at the body and soul of his efforts, corroding his work's value even as the artist himself grew fabulously wealthy.
Sadly, that is a very old story that an old man on the Boardwalk might be overheard to tell.
But great lyrics endure, even if their progenitor loses his way along the street:
The screen door slams
Mary's dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey, that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again
I just can't face myself alone again