Born to Run: Biography

“Born to Run,” Springsteen’s breakthrough hit, touches a nerve among a generation of youths yearning to break out of the claustrophobic “trap” of their lives. Springsteen’s music offers his listeners a stark choice: Wither away in a soulless existence or take your chances on the open road. Springsteen certainly isn’t the first to explore this theme of escape, but his visceral lyrics and driving music articulate the stakes of desperation in a way that captures the generational zeitgeist. “Born to Run” expresses his own feelings of wanderlust more precisely than his previous albums. It’s a feeling that simmered beneath his skin since he was old enough to recognize the dead-end life that awaited him in Freehold.

Springsteen craves escape, both physically and metaphorically. Growing up, he sees hard-working neighbors aspire to the promise of the American Dream but mostly fall short. His emotionally abusive father is plagued with delusions and unfulfilled dreams, spending his days staring at the horizon and nights on a barstool, and he resolves not to fall into that same “death trap.” The postindustrial devastation of shuttered factories further provokes wanderlust. Anything’s better than where he is. Because the late hours and nomadic lifestyle of a rock musician are understandably appealing, Springsteen dives headlong into it. As a teen with few boundaries, he plays clubs into the wee hours, fraternizes with older musicians, and studies other bands until dawn. He accepts any gig, regardless of the hour or distance, to get away from home.

The yearning for freedom and redemption of the open road infuse Springsteen’s early music (“Born to Run,” “Thunder Road,” “Incident on 57th Street”), and he embodies that yearning in his relentless touring and epically long concerts. He admits that winding down after the adrenaline rush of performance has always been difficult, and he often spends those restless hours not sleeping but writing. The need for constant forward momentum is both the source of his creative muse and the demon on his shoulder that sabotages many relationships. He leaves behind several broken hearts because the idea of settling down and committing to one person is counter to the rock-star ethic of independence and autonomy—or so he tells himself. When he finally seeks therapy for his anxiety and feelings of sadness, he realizes that his fear of settling is really a fear of vulnerability. He can’t allow anyone to get too close because he’s been so emotionally betrayed by his father. However, once he meets Patti Scialfa, he begins discovering that love, life, and family aren’t the shackles he feared but a source of stability and joy.

Springsteen’s music and his memoir address the plight of marginalized communities—victims of recession, Vietnam veterans, migrant workers, or Black casualties of police violence. Springsteen’s life circumstances give him the credibility to write about these communities. Not an academic studying social injustice from the ivory tower of privilege or a white, “identity-politics-focused” liberal with a savior complex, he understands working-class issues organically, based on authentic, lived experience. He becomes a spokesperson for the underclass, and that mystique becomes as much a part of him as music.

When Born in the USA skyrockets to the top of the charts, producing seven top-10 singles, Springsteen—only recently financially solvent—becomes a superstar. Fame brings “outrageous” wealth and intrusive paparazzi, and Springsteen fears how a massive new fan base will affect his creative process. He wonders whether he’ll be able to sustain it and control how his music is interpreted. When Ronald Reagan co-opts “Born in the USA” and uses it in his 1984 reelection campaign, his complete misunderstanding and misappropriation of the song prompts Springsteen to focus his music in a more overtly political direction—on the plight of workers displaced by the unfettered capitalism that Reagan champions—and he clarifies the song’s meaning during his concert tour to prevent further misinterpretation. Maintaining authenticity as an artist is paramount to Springsteen, even if that means speaking out against the US president.

After the success of Born in the USA, Springsteen is comfortably ensconced in his Hollywood Hills estate, free from the media’s prying eyes. Fame might easily taint his reputation, but Springsteen seamlessly shifts from wanderlust, working-class blues and the aftermath of Vietnam to the longing for love and home and the tense, charged dynamics between men and women. What connects Tunnel of Love, his first solo effort, to the rest of his work is unflinching candor. Whether writing about broken dreams or fear of commitment, the common thread is that he writes genuinely and from the heart. He reflects extensively on—and agonizes over—the musical and thematic direction of each new album. When something doesn’t work musically or align with his vision, he doesn’t let it go. Perfectionism takes time, and the time between his albums is often protracted—but his fans seem to recognize that artistry requires patience. Whether rich or poor, writing about the working class or police shootings, living in New Jersey or Hollywood, Springsteen’s authenticity as an artist permeates everything he does.