Bruce Blogs #5 – Born to Run @ 50.

I thought after my rant against Tracks II a while back, I should redress the balance by writing something to celebrate one of the greatest albums ever made hitting fifty. Yes, fifty. That’s fifty years. Bruce Springsteen’s seminal third album was released worldwide on 25 August 1975, and to celebrate the auspicious occasion I have been spinning it a lot this week. Or whatever the correct terminology is when applied to MP3 files. It’s not my favourite album by any means. It’s not even my favourite Bruce album (that honour will always go to Darkness on the Edge of Town). But Born to Run is undeniably brilliant. From start to finish it’s a journey, evoking cinematic landscapes signposted by teen angst, lost love, gang violence, and above all, that sense of frustration and crushing isolation that so often haunts people from small towns. At its core, it’s an album of hope and inspiration, which may help explain why it resonated so widely and with so many.

In hindsight, this album was Springsteen’s sliding doors moment. Having been signed by Columbia Records as a Bob Dylan clone in 1972, his first pair of albums (Greetings from Asbury Park, and The Wild, the Innocent, & The E Street Shuffle) didn’t exactly set the world alight. With the record company expecting a return on their investment, this third effort probably represented his last shot at stardom. And he knew it. Born to Run took 14 months to record, which was practically unheard of in the Seventies when most major label artists were putting out two albums a year. The title track alone reputedly took six months to perfect, with the Boss famously complaining that he heard sounds in his head that he couldn’t replicate in the studio. It was produced by Springsteen himself, aided by current manager Mike Appel and future manager Jon Landau, who tied themselves (and each other) in knots trying to capture something akin to Phil Spector’s legendary ‘Wall of Sound.’ The tensions led to a lot of soul searching, some very awkward conversations, and ultimately several departures with David Sancious and Ernest Carter being replaced in the E Street band by Roy Bittan and Mighty Max Weinberg on piano and drums respectively. Appel himself would soon be on the way out himself, which led to a lengthy legal battle which finally ended with Springsteen buying himself out of his own contract.

So what about the music? Well, you should already know all about that but if you don’t, here we go. Eight tracks totalling just shy of forty minutes kicking off with Thunder Road, one of the most recognisable songs in the Springsteen arsenal. With it’s haunting harmonica and piano, it’s a slightly understated introduction, before the balance is redressed with the punchy one-two combo of Tenth Avenue Freeze Out and Night. The ‘wall of sound’ production is already in evidence, but really comes into its own with the climax of the epic Backstreets which rounds out side one of the vinyl and cassette. I mention this because more than one critic has pointed out how vital the sequencing was, with its ‘four corners’ approach meaning each side of the recording starts on an uplifting, optimistic tone before sinking into lyrical drudgery and fraught pessimism, with lyrics touching on fear, betrayal, revenge, and violence. This concept is never more evident than when ‘side two’ kicks off with the immortal Born to Run, which perfectly encapsulates that sense of missing out that we all felt as teenagers, the unshakable belief that everything was happening somewhere else and all you had to do was get there. This is followed by She’s the One, a song about romantic obsession, and the album closes with Meeting Across the River and the immortal Jungleland, two similarly-themed tracks about the darker side of the American Dream with the latter weighing in at over nine minutes and featuring a timeless extended sax solo from Clarence Clemons.

Though not officially a concept album, it has been said many times that Born to Run has a very cinematic feel, with each track hitting like a mini opera, or a vignette attached to a broader work. Several critics have pointed out that the album is driven by actions, such as running, meeting, hiding and riving. These characters are in perpetual motion, if not literally then figuratively. It is indeed a journey for the listener from start to finish, the road possessing the ability to ‘take you anywhere’ and therefore offering a means of escape. There is a feeling that the highway offers a sense of hope or even belonging, and it becomes a metaphor for everything missing in the narrator’s life. Springsteen himself has said that it was all well and good packing all these characters in their cars and sending them off to chase their dreams, but then he had to figure out what happened to them all. Leaving was the beginning of the story, not the end. Interestingly, over the years another school of thought has emerged suggesting that the road described on Born to Run constitutes an antidote to the politically-charged climate it was released into typified by assassinations and the Vietnam War, which ultimately represented an escape from the American Dream rather than way to attain it.

The numbers leave little to the imagination. Released on 25 August 1975, BTR peaked at number 3 on the Billboard charts, back when it meant something, and by the end of the year had sold upwards of 700,000 copies. In 2022 it was certified seven-times platinum by the RIAA in the US and had sold 10 million copies worldwide. These days you can find it on ‘best album’ lists everywhere and Springsteen’s set lists are invariably studded with representatives, probably more-so than any of his other albums. Upon release, it received almost universal acclaim with Rolling Stone magazine commenting that, “Springsteen enhances romanticized American themes with his majestic sound, ideal style of rock and roll, evocative lyrics, and an impassioned delivery,” and the New York Times calling it a ‘masterpiece’ of punk poetry and one of the great records of recent years. Perhaps more pertinently in the grand scheme of things, it also marked the transition from Springsteen’s folk-inspired origins to global rock superstar, which now seems obvious but at the time didn’t please everybody, especially folkie types already scarred by Bob Dylan’s defection a decade earlier. But as anyone can see, rock n’ roll was always the Boss’s true calling and tramps like us, baby we were born to run.

Bruce Springsteen @ Villa Park, Birmingham, 16 June 2023

I’ve seen the Boss a bunch of times before. The first time was at Wembley Arena as a wide-eyed 18-year old, and it’s been one hell of a ride since then. Jobs, friendships, relationships and Prime Ministers have come and gone, and there have been endless ups, downs and roundabouts. It almost feels like Bruce has been beside me every step of the way, not only soundtracking my life but encouraging me, guiding me, cheering from the sidelines and chastising me when I needed it. Whenever I hear Born to Run I am 16 again, and my life is a blank canvass. Trouble River will always remind me of being stuck on a bus in the middle of a torrential flood in New York city circa 1999, and Follow that Dream transports me to a summer’s day at the San Siro in the midst of a break-up in 2003 when I first heard it.

I didn’t spend anything like the couple of grand for a ticket for this gig often touted in the press, but it didn’t come cheap. Add on travel expenses, a night in a city centre hotel during peak season, and a few £7.50 pints, and the cost probably weigh in around the £600 mark. It’s a lot. I could probably have gone on a package holiday anywhere on the contiednent for less. But having missed the last couple of tours, and then Covid sticking its oar in, I felt this one is important. I hope I’m wrong, but I have a sneaky feeling this might be the last global outing for Bruce and the E Streeters.

To be brutally honest, I wasn’t expecting much. There are a few reasons for this. For starters, Springsteen and the original E Streeters are all well into their seventies now. You can’t expect the same level of performance they gave in their thirties. Nobody other than Father Time is to blame for that. There’s also the much-derided ticketing drama which left a sour taste in many mouths, and a set-list that has barely changed since the tour kicked off in Tampa back in February. This is unusual for Bruce and, perhaps unfairly, not what fans have come to expect. In fact, some shows have been identical to others, which is almost unheard of in Bruce folklore. One thing I have always admired about the Boss is his inherent ability to be spontaneous and make every show special. If you look back over pre-2023 set lists, you’ll be hard pressed to find any duplicates, especially after the original River tour, something which makes each and every show unique. On recent jaunts, Bruce has taken sign requests from the crowd, some of them pretty obscure, in an attempt to ‘challenge’ the band.

Then there’s the choice of material. The general theme is one of introspection, retrospection and loss. This is exemplified by Bruce’s story, one of the few monologues he indulges in, about being the last surviving member of his first band going into Last Man Standing. Ghosts, a stand-out track from his most recent album Letter to You deals with the same subject matter, and while I initially thought the title track was a love song, after seeing it performed live, and Bruce’s constant gesticulations to the crowd, it becomes clear that the song is, in fact, a message to fans:

Things I found out through hard times and good

I wrote ’em all out in ink and blood

Dug deep in my soul and signed my name true

And sent it in my letter to you

But it isn’t all maudlin contemplation. It’s almost as if the show is structured to reflect the five stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, with one last stage tacked onto the end for good measure: joy for a life lived well. It makes sense. We don’t realise it so much when we’re young, but as we progress through life, death becomes an ever more prevailing aspect until, inevitably, we all succumb. Most shows on this tour so far have started with a defiant No Surrender, almost certainly a response to the Covid nightmare, and maybe the fragility of life itself, and have included stompers like Bobby Jean, Glory Days, Mary’s Place, Out in the Streets and Backsteets. However, the songs seem to take on a new context in this setting, and the sometimes whimsical lyrics are highlighted. This is never more evident than during a stripped-down My Hometown, which drew one of the biggest cheers of the evening.

Miami Steve Van Zandt said on Twitter recently that though there would be the odd surprise, generally, this time out Bruce had a particular story he wanted to tell, and chose to perform songs that fit the narrative. Despite featuring nothing from a clutch of albums including Greetings from Asbury Park, NJ, Human Touch, Lucky Town, The Ghost of Tom Joad, Magic, Working on a Dream, Devils & Dust, Tunnel of Love, or Western Stars, the songs he does play tonight offer a pretty fair and balanced representation of his life and work.

True to Miami Steve’s word, most nights he manages to shoehorn in a track mid-set that he hasn’t played much (if at all), this swiftly becoming the mechanism by which to make each gig special. At other dates he has busted out I’m on Fire, Brilliant Disguise, Trapped, Jungleland, Pay Me My Money Down, Working on the Highway and a cover of Dirty Water. We got the tour debut of The River. I’ll take that. All things considered, it’s a cracking set-list, and I couldn’t have done better if I’d sat down and written it myself, except perhaps for including Human Touch, Darkness on the Edge of Town, or Living Proof somewhere and substituting Incident on 57th Street for Kitty’s Back. But meh, we all have our whims. Perhaps the greatest advantage of sticking to the same basic set is that each member of the band has the opportunity to nail their parts and polish them to the nth degree.

The thing that will stay with me is the outpouring of joy when Bruce stepped on stage, which was maintained for most of the show. I looked around and everyone in attendance was smiling and hugging it out. It was clear that a large percentage of these people were strangers, or at least had been until today. There were even a few tears. I think that’s part of the Bruce live experience. It’s been a long, bumpy road for a lot of Bruce fans, and there is a kind of solidarity to be found in that. These songs bind us all inexorably together. In the words of local news outlet Birmingham Live: “If you could have somehow harvested the loving energy that the Birmingham crowd were expressing for this troupe, you’d have had enough electricity to illuminate the city skyline for the rest of the year.”

The high-octane set flagged a little in the middle, with an extended Kitty’s Back and The E Street Shuffle either side of his cover of the Commodores’ Nightshift, but I think we all needed a breather by that point. At least this section gave some fringe members of the band, like the backing singers and the E Street Horns, their moment in the spotlight, not to mention Max Weinberg, who is still one of the best drummers on the planet.

Bruce plays with the format from time to time, as is his want, and is not opposed to doing the unexpected, but he is the consummate performer and knows how to work a crowd like nobody else. There were many highlights, but for me, a blistering Prove it all Night stood out and closing out the main set with one-two punch of Badlands and Thunder Road, was a stroke of genius. Both songs are equally anthemic and powerful, and carry the same message of hope and optimism. It’s songs like these, with lyrics about yearning for more from life and looking for a way out of a humdrum existence, that set me on my own path in life. Judging by the crowd reaction, I wasn’t the only one.

After barely time to draw breath, the encores begin with a fired up version of Born in the USA, a song misunderstood for so long which has now become a crucial cornerstone of Springsteen’s repertoire. Even before the last notes of a rollicking Dancing in the Dark have faded out, the big screens either side of the stage start carrying tributes to Clarence Clemons and Danny Federici, two members of the E Street Band not with us any more, to complement a stirring rendition of Clarence’s unofficial theme song Tenth Avenue Freeze Out, another ode to the past. These days saxophone duties are handled by Jake Clemons, Clarence’s nephew, who deserves a special mention. When first inducted into the E Street band in 2012, a year after his uncle’s passing, he had some pretty big shoes to fill. He dropped a few bum notes here and there and lacked the range, power, and stage presence of an on-form Clarence. There’s no shame in that, the man was a force of nature, but Jake has really blossomed in recent years. Now, his playing is almost indistinguishable from the Big Man’s, and that’s probably the highest compliment you can give him.

The mammoth almost three-hour set closes with a poignant solo acoustic version of I’ll See You in my Dreams, another track from Letter to You. A melancholy, yet fitting way to round out an unforgettable evening. Despite ostensibly being about losing someone close, the song provides hope in the line: “For death is not the end, and I’ll see you in my dreams,” reaffirming for the last time the core narrative that one often overlooked consequence of death is a new perspective, or even appreciation of life. It doesn’t always seem like it, but it could be said in that regard death is a gift to the living.

All dodgy photography by me. GO HERE for previous Bruce Blogs.