BORN TO RUN – Bruce Springsteen
I thoroughly enjoyed this book, which is probably no huge surprise as a card-carrying Springsteen fan-boy.
Obviously I enjoyed finding out more about Bruce Springsteen, but I was also impressed by his writing technique. It’s colourful and even poetic in places and Bruce really loves a comma. Why stop at one synonym when a shopping list of ten more can nail what you’re striving to say that much better.
This autobiography not only seeks to provide a historical rendering of the Bruce Springsteen story but also an in depth analysis of his own psyche complete with revelations about the extent of his personal depression and his fears of following his father into more pronounced mental illness.
Having read the Peter Ames Carlin biography, some of the subject matter was already known to me but the two definitely aren’t different gospels of the same story. Some matters that appear important don’t exist in the other and (on a small number of occasions, such as the discussion of why he didn’t appear at Woodstock, versions of the Bruce story differ significantly.
Fanboys will discover that Bruce had a lot of bands, a lot of girlfriends and a lot of houses. So many of each it can be hard to keep track.
On a strictly writing level, I found the introspective moments concerning what he was trying to achieve with music and hi life… or those about battling his inner demons… though artfully described were sometimes overly handled and overcooked until the point he started to make is lost in florid, if mostly impressive prose.
And in each case, he would return to those themes a number of times which had the effect of strengthening the points he was making but diluted the impact of what might otherwise have been poignant, definitive moments of storytelling.
In terms of content, I was already prepared to discover that Bruce, by his own admission in this (and that other biography… and maybe in others as well) was frequently self absorbed, a control freak, egotistical, prone to fits of anger, often disloyal to girlfriends (and even a wife… and, you could argue, to the E Street Band) and a perfectionist. He doesn’t shy from these admissions in his attempts at being a truly honest, self-exposing artist. Will Carlin in his book nominated times Bruce had struck a girlfriend, this book doesn’t describe that event but gives plenty of instances of behaviour that he agrees was boorish or plain unacceptable.
So it’s MOSTLY a warts and all book, and despite the long list of flaws his most enduring positive traits are also on display… long term friendships, generosity and willingness to look inward among them. I admired his honesty in admitting he took up with Patti Scialfa while still married to Julianne Phillips, although not the act itself. I was however disappointed with the ease with which he cut the E Street Band adrift and then call them back together. But as Max Weinberg has said elsewhere, referring to the fact it’s Bruce’s band, “we’re not the Beatles here.”
Bruce makes no bones about it. He believed from early on, after stints with failed band democracies, that the only way to keep a band together was with a clear band leader who offered a benign dictatorship with clear rules. It was always his vision that came first, but he admits a great debt to his band mates without whom he agrees there would’ve been no BOSS.
In some ways it’s a little like reading about John F Kennedy, such an inspirational man to many, but whose failings and foibles did much to undercut his legacy. Springsteen the artist stands in this book bare, admitting all of the faults he can see and saying to the public, this is it. It’s who he is. The whole enchilada. And Springsteen the writer delivers the story in very engaging style.
They say you shouldn’t meet your heroes. Through this book, I’ve met him a little more closely (and in 7 days will meet him much more closely in concert), and he remains a musical hero. A rock and rolling folk philosopher whose impact on me remains undiminished and accounts of his demons only serve to make the bond stronger.