Nowhere To Run
Played a vintage Springsteen CD while driving yesterday. It was the “Live in New York City” CD. I did not attend the Madison Square Garden concert of July 1, 2000. By chance some time later I happened to catch rebroadcast of the concert while in a hotel room in Columbia Kentucky. The power of the song lyrics, and the force of delivery imprinted my soul. Bruce Springsteen is the Homer of our time. The poetry, passionate, soulful vocalization, the underlying instrumental support of the E Street Band, –define what it means to live in this society, late 20th and early 21st century.
I listened to “Born in the USA.“ as if for the first time while I was in traffic yesterday. This is not a feel-good song. With dirge like quality, the keyboard and guitars conspire to create a wall of sound, highlighting Springsteen’s story. The tale of an individual who is an unwitting sacrifice to the actual purposes, and objectives of America. Like Homer’s Iliad, the unifying thread, the theme of the story is violence. From the very first line, “born in a dead man’s town” it is clear that the destiny of the narrator will be tragic. The violence begins with a early memory of a kick that is a metaphor for the rest of a life that has the texture of a victim, a punching bag of circumstance.
It is natural for Springsteen to segue to the Vietnam war with a factually accurate description of the consequences of war on those that fought, died, and on those who returned. The final verse contains two lines of profound imagery. Two poles define the limits of experience for this character: The penitentiary for those who are outcasts, misfits. The refinery illumined with the flare of waste gas burn-off, that has no job for the returning veteran. The narrator is a left-over.
Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
Here is a current youtube of Bruce offering his Born In The USA.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoBXzsk5FEQ
Born In The U.S.A.
Born down in a dead man’s town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog that’s been beat too much
Till you spend half your life just covering upBorn in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.Got in a little hometown jam
So they put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to a foreign land
To go and kill the yellow manBorn in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man says “Son if it was up to me”
Went down to see my V.A. man
He said “Son, don’t you understand”I had a brother at Khe Sanh fighting off the Viet Cong
They’re still there, he’s all goneHe had a woman he loved in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms nowDown in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I’m ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run ain’t got nowhere to goBorn in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
I’m a long gone Daddy in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
I’m a cool rocking Daddy in the U.S.A.
