Born to Run: Biography

The Ghost of Tom Joad (1995) centers thematically on the questions of life during humans’ brief existence on Earth and the responsibilities of a rich man in this world. Writing about “austere” characters, he keeps the music simple. With Dust Bowl migrants as a metaphor, he writes about the lives of migrant farm workers in California’s Central Valley and the hostility they face as new and often unwelcome citizens. The earlier themes are all there—lost jobs, the struggle for dignity, hope despite impossible odds—but the faces are now Latino, not white. He sings for his country in all its ethnic iterations, honoring the people whose hard work sustains the country but who face bigotry daily. He feels certain it won’t be his biggest selling album but is satisfied that it honors his artistic soul.

In 1995, he plays his first solo, acoustic concert since the 1970s, and the vulnerability of playing without a band reveals to him new subtleties and possibilities in his music, both musically and vocally. These concerts “revive” him and recommit him to writing “topical” songs.

Springsteen’s father’s mental health condition worsens, and he receives a diagnosis. He gets treatment but refuses to take his medication, triggering episodes. His weight fluctuates wildly, and he takes long road trips on a whim, his wife by his side. After much persuasion, they check him into a hospital, where new medication makes his final 10 years of life calmer, and Springsteen sees remnants of the man he never saw as a boy. In 1998, his father dies in hospice. Ruminating on his father’s life, Springsteen sees a man who endured a hard life, a man with a passion for the sea, whose sense of masculinity was always “under siege.” They bury him in Freehold.

After his father’s death, Springsteen feels claustrophobic indoors and sleeps outside. He feels his own mortality. His father’s demons run through his blood, and he draws a line between the sins of his heritage and those of his own making. Although he still has hard days, they’re tempered by something his father never appreciated: the love of a wife and family.

Springsteen’s mother returns to New Jersey for the first time in 30 years. While he holds some resentment over her choices—prioritizing her husband over her children—he understands those choices were hers. An eternal optimist, she was always his biggest champion, and he deeply admires her humor and lack of cynicism. She settles into the role of grandmother, appreciating the lives and accomplishments of all her children.

Springsteen meets Frank Sinatra and is invited into his inner circle. He and Scialfa attend Sinatra’s 80th birthday party along with such notables as Steve and Eydie Gorme and Bob Dylan. Scialfa displays her vocal chops, serenading Sinatra to great acclaim. Two years later, Sinatra dies, and Springsteen is invited to the funeral along with a coterie of Old Hollywood: Kirk Douglas, Don Rickles, and Jack Nicholson. As they stand on the steps of the church afterward, Nicholson turns to Springsteen and utters, “King of New Jersey” (420).

Springsteen and his mother attend a concert—Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, and Bob Dylan. The venue is filled with “middle-aged, wrinkled, out-of-shape, balding, gray-bearded rock fans” (422), but the joy on their faces as they listen and dance to the music makes him want to do the same for his own aging fans (and some younger ones who never saw him play with his original band). He resolves to “reactivate” E Street.

Despite a satisfying solo tour, Springsteen feels he’s at his best when playing with a band, and no group of musicians has endured more together than the E Street Band. Further, they’re the result of years of trial-and-error, of honing the sound and replacing members that didn’t conform to it. They’re Springsteen’s perfect fit.

The digital age is upon them, and as Springsteen notes, with some regret, “I wasn’t hearing myself so regularly on the radio anymore.” He feels E Street still has something to offer in live performance—that an act from rock’s “embalmed past” shouldn’t recede into the twilight of retirement or nostalgia tours.

It’s On!

Ten years apart have made the band realize that their heyday was some of the best days of their lives. As he reassembles the band, he wants to ensure that this time will be fun, free of past grudges and politics.

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

Springsteen reflects on the exuberant and sometimes ugly Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Some air old grudges, but young artists perform alongside their idols. He feels fortunate to have been born in rock’s infancy, when it was still rebellious enough to stir a moral panic among the older generation. Although he lived through rock’s “Golden Age,” the social conditions that sparked it still exist and will spark vibrant new music—whatever its form.

Induction

In 1998, Springsteen learns that he has earned a place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but since he was always signed as a solo artist, that’s how he’ll be inducted. Van Zandt argues that the E Street Band should be inducted alongside him since “that was the legend” (430). While the band is, for Springsteen, an indispensable extension of his art, he still sees himself as an archetypal loner like Bob Dylan. In the end, he’s inducted in 1999 as a solo artist with the band playing at his side. Afterward, they prepare to tour together again.

Rehearsal

They rehearse in Asbury Park, where it all started. Within the city’s neglected borders, a burgeoning creative scene grows—the perfect environment for the band to rediscover itself. In rehearsals, the band gels like no time has passed, but Springsteen still has doubts about whether this is the right path. He’s ambivalent about relying on greatest hits, but Landau simplifies it: “If you come out with your band and play your best music, people will like it” (432). Rehearsals, however, feel “leaden”—until the band plays for a small group of fans camped outside the Convention Hall. With an audience, the band and the music take off. The tour—starting in Europe and ending in New York City—is another success.

“American Skin”

Before their final gig at Madison Square Garden, Springsteen writes a new song (“American Skin”) inspired by Amadou Diallo’s shooting by New York City police officers. He strives for an evenhanded approach, but after the band plays the song in Atlanta, the president of the police officer’s union calls him a “dirtbag” in the press and asks them not to perform the song in New York. They do, receiving a mixture of respect and antipathy. Springsteen insists the song isn’t “anti-police,” but many cops see it that way, and he encounters resentment from some even years later. Despite the controversy—many in the Black community thank him—he feels renewed confidence and begins to write material for another album.