Born to Run

This week is the fortieth anniversary of the released of one of the greatest albums in rock and roll history, and one that launched the career of a musician that has become something of a living legend. That album is Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen.

It was Springsteen's third album, after the first two were financial disappointments. This album, unlike the first two, made no mention of New Jersey, Springsteen's home state, but did capture the same kind of American mythos that he had been looking for. "The screen door slammed, Mary's dress waived," is the first words heard, from "Thunder Road," and it sets the tone for an album about beautiful losers and regular guys and the girls they love.

Springsteen was one of those instant successes who had been around for years. He was on the cover of Time and Newsweek the same week, both heralding him the future of rock and roll. They were right, but Springsteen, to me, has never been about the future--he didn't invent any kind of rock form, and, as with most great artists, he took the past and expounded upon it. He owes a great deal to Bob Dylan, as a kind of troubadour with a guitar (and a damn great poet) and The Rascals, the white group who grooved to black sounds.

Born to Run has eight songs, each one a masterpiece of some sort. They are the kind of songs that reach deep into the soul, and sometimes hit pretty hard. Some are joyous, like "Tenth Avenue Freezeout." One of my favorite moments on the album is when Springsteen sings:

"When the change was made uptown
And the Big Man joined the band"

And then we hear a blast of the Big Man, Clarence Clemons, on his sax. There's also a great and moody love song, "She's the One," which never fails to captivate me;

"There's a thunder in your heart
At night when you're kneeling in the dark
It says you're never gonna leave her
But there's this angel in her eyes
That tells such desperate lies
And all you want to do is believe her."

The title song, which I believe is now the state song of New Jersey, is the most iconic, the American need to pull up stakes and leave, especially on a motorcycle with a girl behind you. The song, which took several months to record, is note perfect, with that killer little guitar riff that sounds like a motorcycle.

"In the day we sweat it out in the streets
of a runaway American dream.
At night we ride through mansions of glory
in suicide machines."

This song also mentions the dichotomy of the day and night, even more specifically in "Night," which describes working only to get to that place where work is not thought of--night time. It's an update of the Vogues "Five O'Clock World."

As a youth I was resistant to Springsteen. I'm not sure why--now I think of very highly, one of rock's great poets, in the pantheon of great performers. But what sealed the deal for me is the first time I heard "Jungleland," the close of this album and I think Springsteen's greatest accomplishment. Sure it's operatic, but I don't find it over the top. It's a song I listen to with a slack jaw.

The story of the song is about a guy known as the Magic Rat and his woman, the Barefoot Girl. It involves cops and robbers and death, and a magnificent solo by Clarence Clemons. The song sounds great, but the lyrics just knock me out. I'll never forget the opening, after a heartbreaking violin solo by Suki Lahav:

"The Rangers had a homecoming
In Harlem late last night
And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine
Over the Jersey state line
Barefoot girl sittin' on the hood of a Dodge
Drinking beer in the soft summer rain
The Rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance
And disappear down Flamingo Lane."

Oh lord. If I had come up with that I might have just stopped, thinking I couldn't do any better. But then comes the close:

"In the tunnels uptown
The Rat's own dream guns him down
As shots echo down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or as the girl shuts down the bedroom light."

Chills.

Springsteen has been making music in the forty years since, but I don't think he's ever topped this song or this collection. I think he's the quintessential American rock star, steeped in Americana (did anyone do more for blue jeans that his cover of Born in the U.S.A.?) and expressing, through music, what it is that makes us Americans both unique and interesting to the world. Long may he wave.