Recommendations of the Editorial team
It’s probably the same for many Springsteen fans: Ever since I was in school, I’ve been struggling with friends I actually love, whose prejudices against the “boss” (a word he never wanted himself and which I would only use under the threat of violence) I just can’t overcome. Yes, he may sometimes appear “shirt-sleeved” or “legs wide” on stage, but his music is largely completely different. No matter how many times I give “Nebraska” as a gift, the misunderstanding remains. By now, at least everyone who didn’t listen closely to “Born In The USA” has understood that Springsteen has nothing to do with dull patriotism, at least you can be grateful to Trump for that.
Now let’s get to the car. It was funny how Paddy Mc-Aloon sang about Springsteen’s supposed greatest passions in the Prefab Sprout song “Cars And Girls” in 1988: “Brucie dreams life is a highway” and then stated: “Some things hurt more, much more than cars and girls.” However, Springsteen would agree immediately.
For Springsteen, the car is neither a sexual enhancer nor an end in itself
The romanticism of his car metaphors has nothing to do with horsepower. For him, the car is neither a sexual enhancer nor an end in itself; it is not there to show off, but to set off. It is the escape vehicle – the way out of the misery, the only option. Most clearly in “Thunder Road”, of course, but also in “Born To Run”. It’s legendary how young mafioso Christopher Moltisanti comes late to a meeting on the “Sopranos” and casually quotes the song line as an apology: “The highway’s jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive.”
“The highway’s jammed with broken heroes/ On a last chance power drive/ Everybody’s out on the run tonight/ But there’s no place left to hide …”
In “Racing In The Street” (1978), the ’69 Chevy brings its driver little luck. The “Stolen Car” (1980) also does not escape the darkness; the car in “Cadillac Ranch” (1980) will probably end up in the scrapyard with the protagonist’s body. A car mania, the greed for status symbols looks different (cf. Ulf Poschardt). It’s fitting that “The River”, which these two songs are on, ends with “Wreck On The Highway”. Even the boy who dreams in “Used Cars” (1982) of never having to buy a used car again just wants to leave the eternal fear of existence behind him – he knows how hurtful capitalism can be when your own family is part of the dregs of society.
It’s about the joy of being on the move
For Springsteen, the car is fine for once, because in small American towns and villages – just like here in the country – it’s difficult to get around any other way, at least over long distances. Nevertheless, the petrol guzzlers (songs about electric cars have yet to be written) should in principle be rejected and trains preferred – and yes, even those of Deutsche Bahn. But of course the mythical ones that appear in many REM songs, for example, are even more beautiful. The “Southern Crescent”, whose signals in “Driver 8” invite you to dream of other places: “We can reach our destination, but it’s still ways away.” “Carnival Of Sorts (Boxcars)”, “Bandwagon”, “Auctioneer (Another Engine)”: In the first few years it was the sounds of the Amtrak trains rushing by that inspired Michael Stipe, later it was airplanes and “high speed trains” – which is what happens when you swap the world for the southern states.
What remains is the wanderlust, the eternal joy of being on the move. And that’s where Jack Kerouac, Bruce Springsteen and Michael Stipe meet – standing still was never an option for them.