No...he's The Boss Of Change

It's time to stop thinking glibly about Bruce Springsteen as a fading superstar and start contemplating him as a maturing artist.

True artists take a long-haul view of their work, life and public acceptance. While grateful for recognition when it comes, monetary success is never their prime intent; the work is its own reward, and in good conscience they can serve only one master - their personal muse - by pressing their creativity ever forward.

Bob Dylan is the perfect case in point and doubtless the primary role model for Springsteen, who will play two sold-out shows at the Spectrum Friday and Saturday. Always his own man, Dylan alienated his original protest folk following by plugging in his guitar and fracturing rock 'n' roll with beat poetry, then alienated the electric folk-rock fans by going mellow country, then blew off the Nashville scene by finding religion and a gospel fervor, and so on.

The Beatles and the Rolling Stones are often cited as primo pop evolutionaries, too. Likewise, Peter Gabriel, the Talking Heads' David Byrne, Paul Simon, crossover jazz greats Miles Davis and John Coltrane, David Bowie, Marvin Gaye and, yes, even Elvis Presley have put themselves through heavy changes - some more successful than others - to keep their artistic edge.

Clearly, this has been Springsteen's intent as well - to distance himself

from show-biz predictability and glitz, to continually grow as a human being and creator.

While admitting he has sometimes suffered creative blocks and made ''generic" music - citing some of the stuff he cranked for this year's ''Human Touch" comeback album - Springsteen's work has generally shown forward motion, a growing seriousness that has demanded dedication and commitment from his listeners, and often confounded pop radio programmers.

Until the recent release of his bristling "Leap of Faith" single, it almost seemed that Springsteen and his handlers were intentionally putting out singles from his two 1992 albums ("Lucky Town" being the other) that they knew wouldn't cut it on the radio. He almost dared radio to play the protesty but shallow "57 Channels."

While presented on his 1973 debut album ("Greetings from Asbury Park") as a frenetic, guitar-strumming, stream-of-consciousness folk-rocker - the next Dylan, many of us wrote - Springsteen quickly evolved into a variety of other guises. (The only constant has been the confessional, first-person tone to his work.)