It is taking me way too long to formulate some coherent thoughts on Bruce Springsteen’s auto-biography, Born to Run. And that is probably because I am still not sure what to make of it. Is it the definite, tell-all, hold-nothing-back account of Springsteen’s rise to Bossness? No. Is a fun read? In all its rambling, chronologically challenged, adjective pumping, stream of consciousness flowing, self-reflecting, over several albums glossin’ and CAPS LOCK ROCKING glory, well, laws yes, it is a fun read.
Well, there are quite a few chapters with him philosophizing on the nature Man and Woman and Family and The Big Concerns of Life, and those I did not enjoy as much as the parts about how Springsteen gets to be Springsteen. When he talks about making music, about how the art is made, that is when it lifts off. When he talked about Clarence, you feel the love. When he talks about the Super Bowl halftime show, you feel the excitement. You could take shots at the writing style and get away with it, but it reads like he speaks.
Born to Run is, I guess, about as close as we are going to get to Springsteen. And while I would not have minded more insights into his writing and songs — I am way more invested in the music than in the man — it was a good, fun read.
- Book read
- Bruce Springsteen — Born to Run
- First line
- I am ten years old and I know every crack, bone and crevice in the crumbling sidewalk running up and down Randolph Street, my street.