Born to Interface Part 9

There are a few formatic bubbles that drift effortlessly through the book:

a peep into an idyllic Thomas Hardy-like rustic setting that Bruce and his friend, Matt Delia (whom he met through Max Weinberg, his drummer), tarry awhile at as observers driving through the country…an oak writing table that’s mentioned elsewhere in the book bounces back some of this sound;

a single sentence suspended in the space of a paragraph in the style of a mock mathematical equation (something I have only seen once before, ever in my life, in an essay that I wrote in 2013, what a coincidence!);

narrative elements reminiscent of Hollywood film scripts of the 1970s and 80s that teenagers of the time used to watch, like Footloose, Grease, High School USA, Breakdance and so on, in his descriptions of teen groups of New Jersey;

a do-it-yourself DIY-formatted narration while describing a part of his dodge of the draft (the ability to read and write instruction manuals is definitely a challenging task -or achievement- depending on where the writing originates, and where it’s headed, sometimes putting to rest all the demands of political correctness of how all-encompassing a language ought to be);

a three-dream sequence in italics, where memories of youth mingle with philosophical insight, and hold a seer-like quality that materialise into the written word through the mists of time and consciousness.

These are some of the techniques in the narrative that otherwise remains focused on chronicling and explaining the behind-the-scenes aspects of his life and music.

Strains of some of the music ring through the writing: “so back into the studio we went”, in the book, for instance, has echoes of “down to the river we ran” of The River; “one step up, two steps back” harks back to the song with those words while delving into profound concepts of psychology.

The symbol of a radio tower (with button-like ascending lights) serves to act as a silent, sound-emitting presence. (His mother describes it to him as "a tall dark giant invisible against the black night sky"). Like the future of the young Bruce Sprignsteen's music, it towers over the landscape, "a collective hallucination, a secret amongst millions and a whisper in the whole country's ear. When the music is great, a natural subversion of the controlled message broadcast daily by the powers that be...takes place". Sprignsteen as the symbolic lighthouse, the radiotower, that emits glory into the universe in time to come.

Bruce also plays part-literary-critic in that he puts forward his own critiques of his lyrics. This provides the reader with windows to the musical influences, intentions, and surrounding circumstances and socio-political views that moulded the lyrics of each of his albums. A comprehensive analysis of those trajectories will call for the writing of an entire tome, and this, perhaps, is already in the works somewhere or the other.

Through this written piece, one has only skimmed the surface of the scope that exists, for the literary interpretation of Born to Run. That task is probably already being performed by those who have recognized and seized the opportunity of sinking their literary teeth into this platter of ever-reappearing steaks and loaves.

Springsteen grapples with questions about the extent to which the private and personal merge in his life. He thinks aloud about whether presentation is politics, and he touches upon a key question, the question, to me, which could well be at the heart of the entire work: “Is the most political act an individual one, something that happens in the dark, in the quiet, when someone makes a particular decision that affects his immediate world?”

This is the question, he writes, that he asks via his song “Galveston Bay”. The song is about a man who “With great difficulty and against his own grain…transcends his circumstances. He finds the strength and grace to save himself and the part of the world that he touches”. To me, the answer is Yes. Individual, tough decisions that go unadvertised and unrecognized, but that have global impacts are a core component of real political activity and productivity.

Springsteen, the singer-songwriter, is already a political personality of sorts. Will he step into the electoral scenario himself? Does he prefer party politics? The answers to these questions, he probably needs to derive from widespread consultations.

He writes that he chooses to play the role of a benevolent dictator in the band. But unlike Trump, who seems to be under the impression that it’s worth trying to run the presidency almost single-handedly, Springsteen would hopefully fare differently in purely political heels.

In the meantime, I think it would be worth building and expanding his international presence, primarily through his music, but also through his book.

In conclusion, Springsteen writes: “This, I presented as my long and noisy prayer, my magic trick. Hoping it would rock your very soul and then pass on, its spirit rendered, to be read, heard, sung and altered by you and your blood, that it might strengthen and help make sense of your story. Go tell it.”

And this, my friends, is my cue to strum up my epic list of coincidences gleaned from Born to Run... to put observations that have astonished me into creative perspective...perhaps bring them centre-stage…but in another publication, at another venue…one could keep you posted on this blog….

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