The Unexpected Return of an Old Friend

Most of the talk about Bruce Springsteen’s new album, Devils & Dust, has centered around just a few things: the graphic sexual descriptions in the song "Reno," or a possible reference to his failed public support of John Kerry (the song was actually writtten years ago, hard as that is to believe) or his use of a new voice—literally—a sort of half-falsetto he employs on certain numbers, or even that he drops the f-bomb on record for the first time. Why, one dolt—a professional reviewer, although the mind reels that someone so inept got paid for such drivel—even decided that the title track’s narrator distrusts his fellow American soldiers.

These are all interesting topics, to be sure, and I’d be more than happy to discuss any of them at length. "Reno," for instance, is indeed a love song, as Springsteen himself has said, albeit a rather sordid and depressing one, but blessed with a much catchier melody than it’s given credit for.

But the most interesting thing about the album is the song "Long Time Comin’" wherein we discover what happened to Rosalita.

That’s right. You heard me. Rosalita, the senorita star of Springsteen’s most popular epic, has returned. And if that name means anything to you, you’ll likely understand why I’m shocked that it hasn’t been front-page news worldwide.

Now, I’m going to be discussing the song in some depth, so if you’ve not heard it and you’d like to, two things:

1) You’re an idiot. It’s been out for two months now. Go buy the freakin’ thing already, you bonehead.

2) Skip this until you have.

Okay. On the offchance there’s anyone still with me, I’ll proceed.

Anyone who grew up in the New York/New Jersey/New England area will have had little choice but to be familiar with the song "Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)" as it was played oh so frequently for years and years and years on every rock radio station in that area (as well as other areas, like Philly and Cleveland) from the mid 70s to…well, probably today. And back then radio was even more pervasive as, hard to believe as it may be, compact discs were not yet invented, you couldn’t play LPs in cars (although you could sometimes try) and tape players weren’t entirely ubiquitous. In addition, the song was played at parties. And dances. And so on. Seven and a half minute of barely controlled chaos, it’s one of the most irrepressible Juliet and Romeo love songs in the rock canon, and with what we presume is an upbeat, happy ending to boot.

Springsteen ended every single concert with this barnburner from the time he wrote it back in 1973 until about halfway through the Born in the USA tour, when it became more sporadic. It returned for the Tunnel of Love tour, with a horn section and a slightly altered melody, but since then it’s been a not-totally-unfamiliar presence, but one that clearly The Boss came to consider it something of an albatross, especially as in concert it would often balloon to around fifteen minutes. Fifteen ass-kickin’ minutes, perhaps, but a quarter of an hour’s still a goodly chunk o’ change, even for a guy who used to put on four-hour-long marathon concerts.

So it was with considerable surprise that I heard "Long Time Comin’" that first time. Rosalita—both the song and the girl—are beloved but seem at times encased in amber, unchanging and perfect.

And, truth to be told, the song is really more about the narrator’s quest to win the girl than the girl herself—no matter how many times we may have heard the song (and in my case it’s literally hundreds), we still know virtually nothing about her, except that he’ll do anything to be with her, despite the strenuous objections of her parents. And apparently that’s good enough for us. We trust this guy. He thinks she’s all that, she must be.

And then along comes a sequel. This isn’t the first time Bruce has written a follow-up song: he’s dropped in several references to earlier songs, and even on Devils & Dust he reuses almost an exact line, talking about his dead man’s suit and his smilin’ skull ring, which he’d sung of back on The Rising album. And Springsteen has spoken of how perhaps the narrator of his song "Stolen Car" is the same guy from "Racing in the Streets."

More significantly, he wrote a sequel to perhaps his finest song ever, "Thunder Road," called "The Promise," a grim follow-up that came hard on the heels of Springsteen himself discovering his own manager had been fleecing him. Equally significantly, Springsteen then left the song unreleased for over twenty years and even then buried it on a compilation disc where it received only a fraction the attention it would have had it been released when written.

So of all his songs to revisit, the sprawling behemoth that is "Rosalita" would hardly seem likely. It’s a young man’s song in more ways that one. Not only is the narrator clearly a young man, with the passion of a young man, but the structure itself screams that it was written by a young guy. It’s got multiple verses, multiple bridges, sections that don’t fit any particular mold, every rock chord the key could accommodate, accapella sing-along sections and an energy level that’s off the charts, propelled by great guitar, raucous sax and drumming that makes you wonder if the drummer, Vini "Mad Dog" Lopez, snorted rocket fuel immediately before the take.

All of which makes it the most unlikely of his early songs for the older, more mature Springsteen to go back to. And yet if there’s anything we should know by now, it’s not to predict what Bruce Springsteen will do next.

"Long Time Comin’" starts much as "Rosalita" does, with the narrator on his own, but on his way. As the earlier song begins, Rosie’s locked in her room; her parents don’t approve of the singer and are trying to keep them apart. By the end we’re pretty sure the parents are going to fail but we don’t know that for sure—we have faith, but will it be rewarded?

The new song erases all doubt. The narrator is once again on his way to her, but this time she’s not with her parents. This time she’s with her kids.

So it’s years down the road and the singer not only got his girl, they’re still together. But this is no simplistic, happily-ever-after tale.

As we start, the narrator’s alone:

Out where the creek turns shallow and sandy
And the moon comes skimmin' away the stars
The wind in the mesquite comes rushin' over the hilltops
Straight into my arms
Straight into my arms

I’m ridin’ hard, carrying a catch of roses
And a fresh map that I made
Tonight I’m gonna get birth-naked and bury my old soul
And dance on its grave

These images of rebirth’ll come back to us later, when we know more, and have all the more resonance for it.

Next we discover that he didn’t exactly have a picture-perfect childhood:

My daddy, well, he was just a stranger
Lived in a hotel downtown
When I was a kid he was just somebody
Somebody I’d see around

Now down below and pullin' on my shirt
I got some kids of my own
Well, if I had one wish in this god forsaken world, kids
It'd be that your mistakes would be your own
Yeah, your sins would be your own

This, too, works to set up the resolution of the song.

In between we get a reappearance of the chorus which, in typical Springsteen fashion, is both catchy and lyrically minimalist:

It’s been a long time comin’, my dear
It’s been a long time comin’, but now it’s here
Yeah, but now it's here

Then the scene moves to a shot of the family camping out together:

Out ‘neath the arms of Cassiopeia
Where the sword of Orion sweeps
It’s me and you, Rosie, cracklin’ like crossed wires
And you breathin’ in your sleep
You breathin’ in your sleep

Well, there’s just a spark of campfire burning
Two kids in a sleeping bag beside
I reach ‘neath your shirt, lay my hands across your belly
And feel another one kickin’ inside
And I ain’t gonna fuck it up this time

This scene of familial bliss, set out in nature, is in stark contrast to the relationship the narrator had with his father back in town. But more than that, we learn that, even after a long time, the sparks still fly between him and Rosie, so much so that they’re expecting a third child, a new life with which the singer promises to do better.

Which sends us back to the beginning of the song, where the narrator’s made a new map for himself and is determined to bury his old soul and make a new beginning. He knows he hasn’t been the father he should have been, and knows that his own lack of a father is at least partially responsible for that, but refuses to lean on that as a crutch. His relationship with Rosie has been tested but as he watches his family sleep and feels the new life he’s responsible for just beginning to move, he’s resolved to start over and to get it right this time.

It’ll surprise few long-time fans of Springsteen to learn that this song hit this long-time fan like a sledgehammer. It’s as though we suddenly find out what Prince Charming and Cinderella have been up to all these years since last we learned they lived happily ever after, and that it turns out they are indeed together and have three kids and are still madly in love. Yet along the way they’ve faced the hardships that every couple faces, tough times they could never have believed would be coming their way when love was first in full bloom. But they persevered, weathered the storms, are stronger for being tested and have come out the other side more determined than ever to get it right at long last.

And if they’ve made it this far, there’s little doubt they’re in for the long haul. So Rosalita got to live happily ever after after all, even if that life was undoubtedly nothing like what she was expecting. That hard-won maturity was a long time comin’, but now it’s here—as is this song.

Yeah. Now it’s here.

Comments

[Jay]

unreal

I am now an even bigger fan of yours.

[Julie]

That's the CD I'm listening to on my iPod even now. Love that song. My favorite line is "Let their mistakes be their own."

Amen and selah.

Great deconstruction. Ever thought of being a professor of song lyric deconstruction?

Julie (in Italy)

[Scott]

Sure, I'd love to analyze music for a living, and I've even thought of going back to school to get an advanced degree in pop culture, but it's not in the cards at this point in time, alas. Or not alas--I'm mighty happy with my life as it is right now. :)

Couple things about the song I wanted to point out earlier but which didn't really fit in anywhere: the earlier song is set entirely in the city, with the exception of one small reference to the swamps of Jersey--not a positive view of nature. The sequel, however, reverses things, with lots of beautiful nature imagery while the only mention of the city relates to his deadbeat dad. Meanwhile, the climactic moment of the song takes place as they're camping out beneath the stars. It's another interesting journey the narrator's taken along the way.

Also, while the earlier song has something like nine different chords used--I should grab my guitar and count 'em but I'm too busy...or, more accurately, too lazy--the sequel has only four chords, one of which is only used very briefly, but to great effect, in the bridge. The verses consist of just the root and the subtonic. But, and this is really interesting, Bruce goes back and forth between a straight tonic chord of A and a variation, of Asus2. Now, that's not a terribly uncommon chord--REM has used it a fair amount, for instance--but it's pretty uncommon for our boy. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, he's only ever used a suspended chord fewer than a dozen times in his something like 250 songs, and most of those uses came before 1980, before he stripped his songs down to the bare minimum of chords. Off the top of my head, I can think of only two times in the past twenty-five years when he's used one: "Brilliant Disguise" and "Youngstown." Oh, and he used a sixth chord in "Dancing in the Dark," which is also slightly odd. Otherwise, it tends to be just a regular ol' major or minor chord, with the occasional dominant seventh thrown in. So, again, I find his use of an unusual chord in this song not completely lacking in significance.

Finally, this line just slays me every single time:

I reach ‘neath your shirt, lay my hands across your belly
And feel another one kickin’ inside

That's something that, I suspect, every guy who's ever gone through a pregnancy has done--felt his new child dance around inside his sleeping wife--while the experience, even the simple act of it, is probably unimaginable to a guy who hasn't gone through it. The verisimilitude of that line, that image, that act, just blows me away.