This countdown is being compiled and written in present time by JT of Perth, West Australia. Follow him on Twitter @thesonsofnoone.
8. Valentine’s Day
Get it on: Tunnel of Love (1987)
This was the biggest shock for me. I was tabling the songs and ordering them into what would be the first draft of the final order and ‘Valentine’s Day’ appeared in the top ten. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me" I thought to myself, and as I started to trawl through the list and the songs around it I began a two-hour process of seeing if it actually deserved its spot at #8 in my list of the 101 Greatest Bruce Springsteen Songs.
No spoilers, but it kept its spot. To this day, I don’t know if I can completely justify my decision. I don’t know why I have to (after all, it’s my list and I don’t claim to be anything approaching an authority on the matter. I’m just a guy who loves the tunes and has verbal diarrhea when placed in front of a keyboard), but I feel as though I must.
So I’ll give it a go.
‘Valentine’s Day’ gets overlooked a great deal because it’s the final song on Tunnel of Love. Hell, I didn’t listen to the song for about my first 100 listens of the album. I was too busy listening to the first half of the album and once I got through that and through ‘Brilliant Disguise’, I couldn’t bare to sit through ‘One Step Up’ and ‘When You’re Alone’ and if those songs were any indication, then ‘Valentine’s Day’ couldn’t be any better, especially since I was to learn that it had never been played live (something which has since been rectified on Springsteen’s 2005 tour). So I skipped the song. Repeatedly. Actually, skipped isn’t the word to use. Ignored would be better. I ignored the song.
Then, as luck would have it, it showed up one random day when my iTunes playlist was on shuffle. I had over 40,000 songs on my playlist at that stage, so with odds of 1/40,000 it seems as though someone may have been trying to tell me something. "Listen to the damn song, FOOL!!"
Not sitting at my computer I listened to the song and did a double take. I was sure it had to be some bootleg cut or something. Maybe one of the songs on Tracks that I’d neglected. It shocked me when I found out it was ‘Valentine’s Day’. Best surprise I’d had in a long while.
So, the surprise factor means it’s got a special spot in my heart. But don’t let sentiment alone fool you, it’s a fine song. One of the finest in fact.
It’s the perfect song for 5pm on a beautiful Spring day.
With the tone of Tunnel of Love being somewhat down, ‘Valentine’s Day’ arrives like a breath of fresh air. Bruce’s bassline bounces through the song like a casual stroll. Then there’s the fragile acoustic guitar flourishes in the background and the synth he takes straight from the Born in the USA playbook. Each of them combine to form this brilliant track.
Then there’s Bruce himself. Again, it’s the optimism of the track which wins you over. Not only is it melodically grand, it’s the lyrics that you can’t help but be drawn in by. You listen to the words and hear the man sing "if you die in your dreams, you really die in your bed", and one could think that it’s another downer. But to me, it’s anything but.
‘Valentine’s Day’, to me, is the promise of a better day. That at the end of every shitty day, there’s always a sunrise. I’ve had a lot of shitty days in my life and after the majority of them, I wanted to be made to feel anything but the feeling I had. I wanted to know the feeling that when I woke up the next morning, the previous day was but a faded memory.
Above all of that though, ‘Valentine’s Day’ is to me a song about the promise of a better life. That wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, there’s always hope for things to be better. And I think I like that.
The best bit: It has to be that bassline. It’s the perfect bassline for a weekend walk when you’ve got nowhere else you need to be. It swings back and forth and just carries you along with it, making you forget where you are and what you’re doing. Well, at least it does for me.
7. Born to Run
Get it on: Born to Run (1975), Live 1975-85 (1986), Chimes of Freedom EP (1988), Greatest Hits (1995), Live in New York City (2001), The Essential Bruce Springsteen (2003)
Long before I was a Bruce Springsteen fan, I went through that rite of passage which seemingly every teenage or post-teenage male music fan goes through - my Zeppelin phase. Some people think I’m a Springsteen nut? Well it’s nothing compared to my Zeppelin kick, which lasted probably two or three years. The first bootlegs I ever got were Zeppelin tapes, and I damn near wore those things out. I used to sit there and have debates over the best version of ‘Since I’ve Been Loving You’, and coming up with theories that Robert Plant’s voice never recovered from his 1972 tour to Japan, when they happened to visit or play in Hiroshima. Stuff like that.
But it didn’t last. Doesn’t mean I’m not a Zeppelin fan any more, just that when a band you love only releases 70+ songs in their lifetime, you’re not going to have the same longevity probably as someone like Springsteen or Neil Young, who’ve released hundreds. But my Zeppelin affair was intense. I’d completely immerse myself in their albums and not listen to anything else. I became a snob in the worst way... deride anyone who thought differently to me, and scoffed at anything which I deemed to be a ‘popular’ opinion on Zeppelin, including anyone who extolled the virtues of ‘Stairway to Heaven’. I had the theory that anything popular was to be automatically red-flagged as crap, and should be ignored. I thought that since I knew every single bit of that song, that it was too familiar to be considered great any more. But I was wrong.
One day, toward the end of my Zeppelin phase I sat down and listened to ‘Stairway to Heaven’ with a set of headphones on and I tell you it was remarkable. Everything in the song seemed so alive, so vibrant. I couldn’t find fault. Even though I could have told you that at the 3:40 mark, John Bonham’s drums would kick in, I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) be able to tell you how powerful that drum sound was. And even though I’d heard it a thousand times, I wasn’t prepared for how brilliantly melodic, and how perfect Jimmy Page’s guitar solo was (and still is).
So I guess what I’m saying is that even though you think you’ve heard something so many times that you think you’ll never hear anything new or exciting in the song again, think again. And that’s the approach I take to ‘Born to Run’, and honestly, it’s an easy approach to have. I’ve never felt as though ‘Born to Run’ was stale in any way, shape or form. Sure, there’s six songs I prefer, but that shouldn’t be taken as a slight on ‘Born to Run’.
It’s a remarkable song. I agree with Dave Marsh that it’s memorable more for it’s music than for its words, even though the words are also remarkable. The music pummels you so much that you can’t help but sit there helpless as it enters your head. I don’t think there’s been a time when I’ve listened to the song where the main riff hasn't remained in my head long after the song’s finished.
But I feel pity for Bruce Springsteen. As much as Born in the USA is his most commercially successful album, this here is his most popular song. And it’s tied around his ankle like a ball and chain to a convict. He can’t escape the song. He created it now he must live his life with it. Even when he tried to escape the anthemic nature of it and turn it into an acoustic gem in 1988, he still managed to make it into a sing-along. The song is him and the two are forever linked. Like a conversation about John Lennon invariably mentions Paul McCartney, like Prince and the word ‘purple’, Bruce Springsteen can never escape ‘Born to Run’. And as fine a song as it undoubtedly is, when you’ve released hundreds of songs, you’d hate to have one of those hundreds be what ‘Born to Run’ is to Springsteen.
All of that pity, however, would be much worse if the song we were talking about weren’t as great as ‘Born to Run’. There isn’t an occasion that the playing of the song would fail to lift whatever audience were hearing it. It’s the anthem of a lifetime... the anthem of Springsteen’s lifetime. And it’s a worthy addition to the top ten of this countdown.
The best bit: It’s the first time he sings "baby we were Born to Run". That melody never fails to inspire.
6. New York City Serenade
5. Incident on 57th Street
Get them on: The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle (1973)
There’s this movie that has to be made one day. It’s about a boy and a girl. They’re obviously in love but are tied to their hometown. They’ve got friends and family there and their lives are safe. They could live out an existence that they might be happy with... an existence that everyone around in their lives would be happy with them living. But there’s this nagging thought at the back of their heads that their lives lie on a different path to what everyone wants for them.
Anyway, they go through all these great scenes throughout the film and you never know their real names. Their friends have got a thousand names for each of them... there’s Puerto Rican Jane, Rosalita and Sandy for the girl... Spanish Johnny and Billy (but not Wild Billy) for the boy. But they’re the same person. That I have no doubt over (although I’m fully prepared to be proven wrong on this one).
The film takes place over the one night. It kicks off with the macho boys making their way into the one place where they reign supreme before the boy sees the girl of his dreams. He keeps a bit of his juvenile mentality when he pleads with her to be his... she resists but you know she’s interested in him too. Their lives are interwined. As they night goes on they meet their returned friend from the city. Her name’s Kitty. They thought they’d be angry at her for deserting them, but as soon as they see her, they’re overjoyed that she’s back. Then there’s the scene when their good friend, Wild Billy, has the hanging on intently as he tells them the stories they know can’t be true, but they hang on his every word anyway. And things seem idyllic. Things seem easy. But things are never quite as easy as they appear to be.
Trouble brews. The boys have to prove their manhood, whatever the cost. And things are serious. This isn’t just a fight where knuckles are bared, this is real. But the girl pleads with the boy not to get into too much trouble... "Spanish Johnny you can leave me tonight but just don’t leave me alone". Things heat up before the cops break up the action and everyone retreats. Johnny goes home but the night is still young, and he yearns for action. He looks at his girl, leaves her for the night and promises for a better life.
And it’s the better life he wants. He doesn’t want the life of walking the streets with the same guys he’s walked the streets with all his life. He knows that even though the city is within reach, that it’s another world away, a world he so desperately wants for him and his girl. And he makes his choice. He wants to get away from the life he leads, he wants to get anywhere but where he is. He makes a bold play for the girl, but her parents refuse. But you know he’s not going to give up that easily. He pleads with the girl, despite the reservations of her parents. "I'm comin' to liberate you, confiscate you, I want to be your man".
And he gets the girl. The final scene of the movie is their new life in New York City. Even though he tempts her with a cafe in San Diego, it’s New York City where their future lies. By this stage it’s midnight and the new day’s sun will soon be on the horizon. There’s a whole new raft of characters to be found in the city. There’s the Jazz Man... the fish lady, but honestly, there’s only two people on those streets. The boy and the girl, and they glide their way down the New York City streets, hand in hand walking away from the camera, their whole lives in front of them as the Jazz man walks away in another direction, softly singing to their future.
The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle is so far and away my favourite album of all time. I don’t think anything’s ever come close to the title before or since. I can’t even sit here and tell you what my favourite album of all time was before this. Bruce Springsteen has made grander albums, and has albums with more great songs, but none of them resonate with me like this album does.
And at its heart is a second side which is truly remarkable. I’ve already spoken about ‘Rosalita’, but really, it’s ‘Incident on 57th Street’ and ‘New York City Serenade’ which leave the most lasting impression on my ears. ‘Incident...’ is a more hopeful version of ‘Jungleland’. It’s ‘Jungleland’ before things went bad... while ‘New York City Serenade’ is simply a remarkable song... a true showcase for the talents of David Sancious, who not only lays down the opening piano, but also gives the song its breathtaking string arrangements.
It still boggles my mind to think there aren’t more people in the world who know and love these two songs as much as I do. They leave such an impression on me with each and every listen that I can’t fathom anyone having an opinion that differs from mine - one of completely and utter surrender to the powers of each of the songs.
The best ‘New York City Serenade’ bit: Those opening piano notes. Especially those from about the 1:18 mark which help bring Bruce in. Just beautiful.
The best ‘Incident on 57th Street’ bit: Bruce’s final words in the song, an impassioned cry of "we may have to walk until the daylight maybe". He’s giving so much that he can’t even finish the word ‘maybe’. He then brings it home with some great guitar. But it’s that last line which leaves you breathless, just like the singer.
4. Backstreets
Get it on: Born to Run (1975) and Live 1975-85 (1986)
Note: This write-up was written some time ago, in mid-air over the USA.
It says something about the three songs above ‘Backstreets’ that this song, this masterpiece, is relegated to fourth spot. Even as I type this, there’s a war raging within myself, with parts of my heart, mind and soul outraged at its low placement. Then there’s the other parts of me, understanding and sharing some of the outrage, but knowing that ahead of ‘Backstreets’ are three other songs which have done nothing wrong, three other songs which fully deserve their podium finish.
So even though it hasn’t made the grade, even though it didn’t getting enough votes within myself to make the top three, there’s nothing wrong with ‘Backstreets’. The song, like those yet to come, is perfection. There isn’t a single flaw I can find within it, and even though there are those songs where the inherent flaws add to the beauty, grace and power of them... the beauty, grace and power of ‘Backstreets’ lies in its perfection. I mean, have you ever listened to Gary Tallent’s bass playing in this song? He plays the bass on ‘Backstreets’ like Keith Moon played the drums. Listen to it originally and it just sounds as though it’s random notes (or beats) being played, however when you get right down to it, you notice that sure, there’s lots of notes but not once does he miss the beat. Controlled chaos at its best.
I can’t sit here and write about ‘Backstreets’ in regards to any other song, Springsteen or otherwise, because there isn’t anything like this out there. Sure, some aspiring songwriter may have claimed that there’s a song on their album that is ‘Backstreets-esque’ but putting aside all their good intentions, I can tell you that’s bullshit. Without even hearing the song, I can dismiss it out of hand. That’s not to say that it isn’t a good song, just that I know it isn’t as good as ‘Backstreets’. There isn’t much that is.
Honestly, the song still astounds me every time I hear it. And believe me, each and every listen is six and a half minutes of full concentration. There’s no way that I could ever listen to ‘Backstreets’ with only a half-hearted interest. It may sound overwrought, but for those six and a half minutes, ‘Backstreets’ is the most important thing in my life.
I’m typing this on a flight from New York City to Los Angeles, and while in NYC I did the whole "go to Central Park, walk around and see the sights etc" thing that’s a must when in the city. It was a warm day last Friday (today’s Tuesday) and even though the heat was there, there was still some ice rink operating with a bunch of school kids skating ("why aren’t these fucking kids in school??" was my wife’s frequent question. I had no answer). Anyway, they had some random soundtrack playing" we heard some Black Eyed Peas, heard some Creedence, heard some other stuff. And then ‘Backstreets’ started playing. I was about 25 metres away from the rink, with muffled speakers, but I could tell those opening piano notes even if I were almost deaf.
I stood next to the rink, and being the complete whack-job that I am, I just stood there. As I said, I can’t do anything else when ‘Backstreets’ is on. I just have to stop and listen. Half-way through the song, someone turned it off. "They TURNED OFF THE BLOODY SONG" I thought to myself. I would have said something to someone, anyone, but I didn’t want to be that guy. I was so deflated. I’m sure if I told my wife about my outrage, she would’ve said something about it "just being a song" or "a song you’ve heard hundreds of times before" or "who cares?" and I would’ve loved it because I would have been able to say the following:
1) Yes, it’s a song. But it’s not just a song. "Just a song" is about other songs, not this one. It’s about the songs you wish you never heard again. It’s about the songs you wish you never heard in the first place. It’s not about ‘Backstreets’.
2) Yes, I’ve heard the song hundreds of times before, but I’ll never get to the stage where I’ve heard this song too many times. There isn’t a limit to one’s enjoyment of perfection. The very greatest songs stand up to repeated listens, and not just over a lifetime, but over a week, a day, an hour.
3) Who cares? Me. Yeah, I probably care too much, especially considering we’re talking about the song playing on muffled speakers at a Central Park ice rink inhabited by children who couldn’t care less about anything, least of all Bruce Springsteen. I don’t care if anyone else cares, but I care. I care greatly.
So that’s how utterly brilliant and mesmerising ‘Backstreets’ is. It’s a song that can make an incoherent fool out of me, even when on the holiday of a lifetime and someone turns the song off half the way through. I love my outrage, I love that I love the song so much that I’m outraged. There’s probably a dozen songs that I can think of at the moment which would have the same effect on me.
Now having said that, I couldn’t for the life of me give you a single reason why my reactions to the song are the way they are. There’s probably no need for me to do so, but I love so many parts of the song that there’s too many things for me to mention. There’s Max Weinberg’s drum beat for instance. How about Roy Bittan’s piano, or Bruce’s guitar (again with a guitar solo that serves to highlight nothing if not his underrated playing)? Each of them is sublime and are thrown into the melting pot to help make the song what it is. But it’s so much more than these things. It’s the words, the desperation in the vocals, it’s the whole damn song.
It’s perfection.
The best bit: "At night sometimes it seems you can hear the whole damn city crying. Blame it on the lies that killed us, blame it on the truth that ran us down. You can blame it all on me Terry, it don’t matter to me now. When the breakdown hit at midnight there was nothing left to say. I hated him then and I hated you when you went away." I listen to these words and I can’t honestly think of anything ever that the man has done better than this.
Packy Malley's Wedding DJs