Notoriously on any short list of the bleakest LPs ever rendered by a major recording star near the apex of their commercial powers, Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska turned 40 this year. The initial shock of its fathoms-deep menace remains undiminished, its major themes more resonant than ever. It’s a 40-minute recitation of corruption and violence that reimagines the to-live-outside-the-law-you-must-be-honest folk heroes of Bob Dylan’s John Wesley Harding as a promenade of pointlessly marauding psychopaths.