Darkness on the Edge of Town

Bruce Springsteen ruined me. For a while, at least, I had a had time listening to other artists, even ones I loved, such as David Bowie, because no one else seemed to have the passion Springsteen had. Where other musicians sang their songs, Springsteen screamed his lyrics like they were poison he had to expell. The difference, it felt to me, was that Springsteen meant every word with every fiber in his being and other musicians, well, they were performing.

That was nonsense, of course…to some extent. After all, upon hearing Darkness on the Edge of Town, Springsteen’s fourth album, Pete Townshend, no stranger to passion himself, said, “When Bruce Springsteen sings on his new album, that's not 'fun', that's fucking triumph, man.”

Mainly I think I learned to appreciate a certain emotional distance from most of my favorite artists; after all, I don’t think Nick Drake or Elliott Smith meant their songs any less than Springsteen, they simply had a different way of showing it. 

Nick Drake: "Day Is Done"

Elliott Smith: "Say Yes"

And there were other artists who showed it every bit as passionately as Springsteen…but with a few exceptions, such as Howlin’ Wolf, I tended to dislike those other artists as being embarrassingly emotive. (The exact same thing which turns so many otherwise perceptive listeners off from Springsteen himself.)

But then there’s the final song on Darkness on the Edge of Town, the title track. If Darkness isn’t Springsteen’s finest album—and it very well may be—it’s certainly neck and neck with it. The song itself has never gotten the sort of radio play that a few of the other tracks, such as the singles “Badlands” and “Prove It All Night,” have, and maybe not even as much as a few of the album’s deeper cuts, such as “The Promised Land” and “Candy’s Room.” And it’s not the best song on the album—but it’s no shame to lose to “Racing in the Street,” a serious contender for Springsteen’s greatest song ever.

But it remains not only a masterpiece on its own terms, it’s something of a calling card for Springsteen, being featured prominently on every major tour, solo or band, E Street or otherwise, since its initial release. Despite it clearly being a work of fiction—marriage was, at that point, a very, very long seven years away for Springsteen, although it’s interesting that in later years he would sometimes change the line to “I lost my faith when I lost my wife”—the final verse, at least, captures a key element of Springsteen’s success, as gauged by looking back over the past 40 years. When he screams

Tonight I'll be on that hill 'cause I can't stop
I'll be on that hill with everything I got

you believe.

Almost alone amongst artists of his stature, Springsteen's not only still releasing new material, rather than coasting on past successes, but trying new approaches and, even more nearly unique, observing and chronicling life as an older man with every bit as critical and astute an eye as he had as an angry young man. What drives a guy who’s reached the heights of fame and fortune he has to keep pushing like that? Looking at his peers, both those slightly older and those slightly or even considerably younger, it’s plain to see how easily one can succumb to the temptation to rest on one’s laurels—and no slight intended, as that’s exactly what I would do if I had even a fraction of wealth.

The answer, it seems to me, is to be found, at least in part, in this song.

Darkness on the Edge of Town 

They're still racing out at the Trestles
But that blood it never burned in her veins
Now I hear she's got a house up in Fairview
And a style she's trying to maintain
Well if she wants to see me
You can tell her that I'm easily found
Tell her there's a spot out 'neath Abram's Bridge
And tell her there's a darkness on the edge of town

Everybody's got a secret, Sonny
Something that they just can't face
Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it
They carry it with them every step that they take
Till some day they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag 'em down
Where no one asks any questions
Or looks too long in your face
In the darkness on the edge of town

Some folks are born into a good life
Other folks get it anyway anyhow
I lost my money and I lost my wife
Them things don't seem to matter much to me now
Tonight I'll be on that hill 'cause I can't stop
I'll be on that hill with everything I got
Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost
I'll be there on time and I'll pay the cost
For wanting things that can only be found
In the darkness on the edge of town

Comments

[zombie rotten mcdonald]

I came to Springsteen late, but am catching up.

What do you think of the new album?

[scott]

I like it very, very much. I'm not convinced it's his finest album in 30 years, as some of my non-insane fellow Bruce fans think, but to use Rolling Stone's venerable rating system, it's at least 4 stars, I think. I love that he's still trying new stuff musically and pushing himself lyrically. And, of course, he and I are very much in sync philosophically, so that works for me as well. (No coincidence: his music was a formative influence on me, and still is.)

As I've written several times, most of the greatest rock and roll has been created by Angry Young Men, pace Joni Mitchell and Patti Smith and Chrissie Hynde, or at least for the first 30 years that was the case. And when most of those Angry Young Men hit middle age, something happened. They ran dry or got complacent or just no one cared anymore. Only Dylan and Neil Young have done what Springsteen is doing, which is to try to bring the passion he had back then but marry it to an advanced wisdom, or at least life experience, and greater skill.

[zombie rotten mcdonald]

I feel the same way about Paul Westerberg, actually, much as I like his solo stuff, I keep waiting for another Tim or another Let it Be.

Now you've got me thinking a bit... Who else do I like that has aged well? I will inevitably start yammering about the Mekons in this regard, but....I would say Elvis Costello, although his later work maybe never reached the heights. His TV show was a hoot though. Maybe Joe Strummer would have gotten there, I loved his work with the Mescaleros, but he died so young. How about Robert Plant? His Band of Joy album was really good, but I am partial cuz I had front row seats on the tour. Tom Petty, maybe?

[scott]

Westerberg's an interesting case. He's so talented and so insightful, that he really could have achieved brilliance in his solo career if he'd continued growing. Instead, he had moments of brilliance surrounded by filler. But his filler with the 'Mats had Bob Stinson going nuts and one of the all time great rhythm section and even their filler was special and fun. When Paul put out filler on his solo albums, the studio musicians just made it feel soulless. Later, he seemed to get back on track, but I kinda feel like he went a little too far the other way, going just a bit too tossed-off and lo-fi. I still love 'im, of course.

Bob Dylan and Neil Young are the two people who seem to have kept pushing the hardest. Bob doesn't put out quite enough stuff, but he's on the never-ending tour, while Neil puts out too much stuff. Of course, that's one of the things that makes Neil Neil, right? That he's willing to swing for the fences every time, no matter what, except that sometimes he'll choose a 9-iron rather than a Louisville Slugger and sometimes a hockey stick and sometimes a halibut.

I haven't loved a whole lot of Robert Plant's solo career, other than his work with Alison Krauss, but I do love how he's kept trying new stuff and refusing to revisit Led Zeppelin much. A bold move.

The one who bums me out is Pete Townshend. Given how well he chronicled his mid-life crisis on Who By Numbers, I think he'd have done an incredible job of observing and reporting what it was like to grow older and old as a rock star. I'm really sorry he passed up that opportunity.

[zombie rotten mcdonald]

I had a friend who memorably said, after hearing one of the latter day Who albums "Maybe we should send Townshend some booze" (after he had stopped drinking, of course).

I have liked Plant's solo stuff, but the band he put together for the Band of Joy tour was just STELLAR. And he spent a fair amount of time hanging back and letting them work, smiling in pleasure all the while. Class. Even the Zep stuff they did was re-cast and manipulated a fair bit.

Saw Neil Young and Crazy Horse a while back, Social D and Sonic Youth (two of my favorites) opening up. It was a NOISY night.

[scott]

In the mid-90s, when Springsteen seemed to be sort of at a loss, I had a dream of him recording and touring using Sonic Youth as his backing band, the way Warren Zevon did with REM and Neil Young did with Pearl Jam. Still think that would have been magical. Or maybe a disaster. But I'd have been okay with that, too.