Racing in the Streets: The Bruce Springsteen Reader
Racing in the Streets: The Bruce Springsteen Reader. Ed. June Skinner Sawyers. New York: Penguin, 2004. ISBN: 0142003549 (pbk), $16.00.
When I was a kid, Bruce Springsteen was the guy on Mtv with the baseball video (it took me more than a decade to realize that “Glory Days” wasn’t all about baseball). He was the guy who sang “Born in the USA” that heartfelt patriotic anthem (it took more than a decade until I realized the anger and disappointment in that song). I heard him right at the time he hit his most popular point (circa ‘84, I guess), and I didn’t like him. I heard a few more of his songs, or rather, saw the videos and then thought no more of him (though I admit to an ongoing soft spot for at least the sentiment expressed in the title of “57 Channels (and Nothin’ On)”).
Some years later (the late ’90s), under I don’t recall what auspice, I picked up Nebraska on album. I’m sure it somehow related to my interest in folk and country, possibly Steve Earle’s advice. Anyway, those 10 spare and dark songs were an eye opener. The dynamic lone guitar, occasional harmonica wail, and slight country tinged vocals played a perfect accompaniment to the songs as stories, each told through a different character (though perhaps one can detect Springsteen himself in some of those songs, “Mansion on the Hill”, “Used Cars”). How was I to reconcile this masterpiece (it’s still in my top two for Springsteen albums) with that other guy I heard back in the ’80s? It took a few years and the coaxing of a friend of mine, but I came around. I started buying lots of his albums last year, and now I’ve joined the ranks. I’ve even argued about which album is best. I’m a Springsteen fan.
Someone recently told me that they don’t read about music. Music is a religion for them. It is and one doesn’t need to read about. Some people feel the same way about other forms of art and the parasitic texts that latch onto them: art criticism, literary criticism, and all the others. I’ve started reading about music this year. Other than a few biographies (Phil Ochs and Woody Guthrie, being the sole two, if I recall correctly) and the occasional review or interview, I had avoided it.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for when I read about music: history, explication, advice on what to listen to next? Most likely, it’s a little of each. Historical context can add to the enjoyment of a work, help understand the songs in their original place and begin to understand how they relate to the present. Explication is a little trickier and not always as necessary. Songs are so much about feeling, and there isn’t usually that much of a necessity for the kind of commentary one wants with, say, Pound’s Cantos. But a writer can bring together an overarching commentary on a body of work, which can open new entrances into the work and the enjoying of it. As for advice, well, it never hurts to find something new to listen to, sometimes it may turn into a favorite. Which brings me to the book at hand (yes, I finally got there).
I picked up Racing on the Streets: A Bruce Springsteen Reader on Easter Sunday. I saw it on the new release table and bought it on that whim that comes when you suddenly feel the need to read a book right away. It’s a rather thick volume, 434 pages with articles, appendices, bibliographies (no index!) and a black and red cover featuring a black and white photo of Springsteen playing his guitar, his face looking off page with a look of struggle, pain, something. It’s a hard to face to read and we are without context.
The book is organized chronologically from the early days (an article from Crawdaddy in 1973) through to 2003 (Eric Alterman and essays written just for the reader). The pieces are taken from newspapers, magazines, books (including some fiction), and the web. There aren’t a lot of surprises: too many stories telling about his early days in Jersey and the subsequent early albums; authors reminiscing about what he meant/means to them; essays on his shows as religious ceremony and the gap between his average guy facade and the fact that he is a huge rock n roll star. The quality ranges from the boring to the fascinating, interestingly enough some of the best pieces are the later interviews with the man himself, letting him speak for himself brings the rest of the pieces into a different kind of clarity.
I won’t go over all the pieces or even most of them, but a few stand out which are worth at least a brief mention. Because of a little obsession, I must note a brief review of Born to Run by Lester Bangs (America’s Greatest Rock Critic) who offers: “Springsteen’s gifts lie in the way he has rethought traditional sounds and stances, coming up with a synthesis fresh enough to constitute a minor renaissance. After all, what’s more old-fashioned than the avant-garde?” (75) and “In a time of squalor and belittled desire, Springsteen’s music is majestic and passionate with no apologies.” (77)
In a interview from the early 80’s Springsteen explains his own outlook on his work:
“Life is a struggle. That’s basically what the songs are about. It’s the fight everyone goes through every day. Some people have more success with it than others. I’m a romantic. To me, the idea of a romantic is someone who sees the reality, lives the reality every day, but knows about the possibilities too. You can’t lose sight of the dreams. That’s what great rock is about to me, it makes the dream seem possible.” (95)
Simon Frith’s “The Real Thing — Bruce Springsteen” from 1987 analyzes the “authenticity” of Springsteen’s image and how “what matters in this post-modern era is not whether Bruce Springsteen is the real thing, but how he sustains the belief that there are somehow, somewhere, real things to be.” (132) Jefferson Morley writes on Springsteen and Reagan, Andrew M. Greeley on Springsteen and Catholicism.
In an interview with Neil Strauss from 1995, Springsteen, in describing the songs on his Greatest Hits album, says:
“When I wrote them, I wanted to write about things that people always have to go through at some point in their lives. My music wasn’t going to be about fashion or style. It was going to be about family and struggle and identity questions, spiritual questions: Who am I? Where am I going? How do you live an honest life, and is it possible? How do you make the kinds of connections that keep you from the worst of yourself and bring out the best of yourself? And then there’s fun and good time — how do you find them?” (191)
Hope Edelman’s essay “Bruce Springsteen and the Story of Us” is the best memoir piece in the book, discussing her time growing up in New Jersey. Bryan K. Garman (among others) writes on the Woody Guthrie/Springsteen connection. There are also pieces on his “sense of place” and his most recent album “The Rising” with it’s evocation of the September 11th attack.
Like all anthologies, the book hits and misses. I found it necessary to skip a few pieces, but even with anthologies I find myself stuck in a linear front to back reading. Others may find skipping around the best way to approach this book. All in all, the good outweighs the bad or boring. If you have more than casual interest in the Boss, check out this book. I’ve noticed a lot of Springsteen books on the shelves in the bookstores lately and this makes a great starting place. It gave me the biographical context, historical continuity, and critical eye to look anew at those songs I’ve been listening to, again and again.
Tags: Music, springsteen
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