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I told a friend the other day that I think Bruce Springsteen’s Racing in the Street may well be my favorite song. Then I had to figure out why. ’Cause it ain’t the cars or the racing. Of course, the song isn’t really about those things at all…
*
For 40 years, I’ve been haunted by theses lines:
Some guys just give up living
Start dying little by little, piece by piece
Some guys come home from work and wash up
And go racing in the street
I’ve known instinctively for a long, long time that as soon as you lose passion and purpose — regardless of what form it might take — you are a dead man walking. Men must risk and they must strive. We long for meaning and purpose beyond the realm of mere Economic Man. We crave a taste of the heroic.
The outlaw street racers of the song are not merely pursuing a hobby — they are striving to live heroically, even though nobody outside their obscure subculture will ever sing of their deeds.
I got a ’69 Chevy with a 396…
*
The Racer is a warrior; he lives to “blow ’em all out of their seats.” And in so doing he wins his woman.
I met her on the strip three years ago
In a Camaro with this dude from L.A.
I blew that Camaro off my back
And I drove that little girl away
The Racer didn’t steal her; she chose him, because in every heroic culture from the dark forests of Gaul and Germania to the Plains of America to the streets of New Jersey, women gravitate to men who prove themselves in trial by combat, who count coup and steal ponies.
But the quest for the heroic life carries a cost — one that is often paid by those the hero purports to love. What is exhilarating is also destructive. Turns out that being the consort of this Backstreet Beowulf isn’t so rewarding…
But now there’s wrinkles around my baby’s eyes
And she cries herself to sleep at night
When I come home the house is dark
She sighs ‘Baby did you make it alright?’
She just sits on the porch of her daddy’s house
And all her pretty dreams are torn
She stares off alone into the night
With they eyes of one who hates for just being born
For the Racer, there’s only one act that can quell that pain — a long-shot run for redemption. For him. For her. For all of us.
For all you shutdown strangers and hot rod angels
Rumblin’ through this promised land
Tonight my baby and me, we’re going to ride to the sea
And wash these sins from our hands
It’s a desperate move, the stakes made plain in a warning:
Tonight, tonight, the highway’s bright
Out of our way, mister, you’d best keep
The musical setting reinforces the sense that there is more tragedy — or pathos — than triumph in this story. The tone is wistful, mournful.
*
Something about that determination to be fully alive, whatever the cost, resonates powerfully — not despite but because of its inherent tragedy. Because we all end up having to pay the cost of wanting things that can only be found in the darkness on the edge of town. But that’s another song…
*
This is a mesmerizing version of Racing in the Street. As my friend Dennis McGregor said, “he made it as big as the audience.”
Mike Lazarus says
Interesting take on the song. I think the examination can expand to take in that entire album, as a whole, with this song being just one small part of the mindset.
Bullseye. Was just talking with my wife last night about how thematically linked the songs on Darkness are.
Bill Valenti says
I grew up outside Philadelphia, and the “bad boy” in my neighborhood, Jimmy Cisco, had the baddest blown ’56 Chevy (with a Hurst on the floor, of course). Nobody could beat him (and he was also a Golden Gloves champion boxer, so…). I can hear the roar and smell the burnt tires, hear the police sirens wailing. Good times.
Jimmy Cisco. Perfect.
Tonight, tonight, the strip’s just right
Gonna blow ’em off in my first heat
“My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!”
—Edna St. Vincent Millay
Those who live with passion travel the stars, and
wear the scars from spinning *oh so close* each to their own sun.
Others are tasked with avoiding vertigo, tending embers and
weighing their lives in days that trickle by, unsung.
— YellowJacket
Wonderful.
Lynn Woodward says
That was a riveting performance, Bruce. And a superb way, Jim, to feel — don’t know that it can be fully explained in words — this concept we’ve spoken of before. I appreciate your take on the song’s storylines, and the wondering is furthered.
The woman’s perspective? I see in this — only my perspective, first take — the woman’s desire for a man, strong, bold and forthright, to want her as much as he wants his racing. Is it possible? Impossible to analyze the relationship, but a deep kernel of human evolution to be curious about.
I believe there’s part of us humans that doesn’t want the easy way even though we arrange for it. We want the power and satisfaction that strong emotion and effort bring.
I think that’s all right on the money.
tom says
compadres, how about the opposite of racing in the street. i’m in the process of restoring my 1979 jeep cj7, that has the somewhat rare t‑18, 4 speed manual transmission. that would be first gear is compound low/granny. i relish creeping over the desert terrain, slo mo.……i would hope that is not a total concession to “geezerhood”?!
To be honest, that’s WAY more my kinda rig than a street racer.
Bill Valenti says
Street racers flame out and die young. Its in all the songs (:-). Slo-mo Jeep jockeys last forever!
J.F. Bell says
I’ll see your CJ and raise you a 1942 Ford GPW.
I have no doubt you’ll beat me to the finish line, though. Mine’s in another state waiting on a complete teardown and eventual restoration. Doesn’t start yet. Steering and turning are okay, and we found out the brakes don’t work when we took it off the trailer. I assume there’s still a tree lizard colony holed up in the engine block.
On the other end of the scale…I still want that ’68 Chevelle.
One disaster at a time, I guess.
Steve Stratos says
Passion is so much a fuel for fullness of living. Whether it is passion for the girl, the game or the geography it helps one to be fully alive. When we give ourselves to something passionately it impacts others even as we are impacted by reading this article. It makes a difference in our perspective and in our relationships. Maybe that’s why they call what leads up to Easter “Passion Week.”
Thanks for the reminder!
Thanks for stopping by the campfire Steve.