rob91
07-31-2007, 03:03 PM
In my freshman year of college, the day I left for Christmas break was the day Bruce Springsteen’s “The River” album arrived in the mail. It was only my fourth or so album from the man, but after multiple listens had turned to obsession I soon realized that he would become a force in my life.
Themes of community had always permeated his work, and the opening tones brought a rush of nostalgia—though for what I’m not sure—and a tear to my eye. I remember it as a cool afternoon, the sun setting under the dark green treeline and the bright orange rays slowly fading into night. There was distance on the recording, something about the noise that wasn’t as close as I wanted it to be – I later found out it was part of producing the “bar-band” atmosphere, but at the time all I felt was the vast space, and a longing to climb across it. The unforgettable guitar riff for “The Ties that Bind” began, cutting through that space with joyous circus, yet also a boldness that suggested a bit more seriousness to it. As Springsteen sang on, and stretched out the words as he repeated the chorus “The ties that bii-eeeee-iiiiiii-nnnnd” you began to understand that notion of simplistic community, and wonder if it’s anything more than a notion.
I only made it through the first disc before the bus came: there were some good rockers, some soft ballads, capped off by the album’s masterpiece “The River,” whose epic length and soulful rhythms provide austere commentary on man’s place in the world, though at the time I simply remembered some fun tunes that played racquetball with my insides, that sent me to places I wasn’t sure of and places I didn’t know existed.
My entire trip home was every good thing you can imagine in the world. Happy people on a break from school heading towards the social and emotional comforts of home, ready to put on wide display the great deal of knowledge they’ve obtained – certainly not ‘intellectual’ knowledge, but knowledge of the sort that relates to human interaction and understanding. This is what college was about, sending yourself into those empty distances to push blocks around enough to eventually find familiarity with the surroundings.
I wasn’t far from home, but I was far enough not to know any of the people I was traveling with. I chatted with some people while waiting for the bus, and with the those I was sitting around. I had never considered myself to be popular, but I felt myself accepted and even well-liked on the bus ride, from people I didn’t know and people that I didn’t think I would normally find myself around. Maybe in the end people were just good, maybe it was just the natural exuberance of the situation, or maybe I could just be a damn likable guy when I wanted to be; it’s both satisfying and daunting to believe you are the source of your own happiness, for when it appears in such a fleeting situation you are never quite sure what brought it about or how you will ever get it back.
As I write this I am listening to The National’s most recent album “The Boxer.” It’s not close to Bruce, at all, closer to the transcendental rock of Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds. From what I understand Springsteen is not one of their influences, and I wonder if they have ever listened to his work; but as I sit here, writing about music that has affected my past and the music that is affecting my present I ponder my presence as the essential link between the two.
I have found my place as an important being in the universe, and I didn’t even have to go to the bus stop to figure it out.
Themes of community had always permeated his work, and the opening tones brought a rush of nostalgia—though for what I’m not sure—and a tear to my eye. I remember it as a cool afternoon, the sun setting under the dark green treeline and the bright orange rays slowly fading into night. There was distance on the recording, something about the noise that wasn’t as close as I wanted it to be – I later found out it was part of producing the “bar-band” atmosphere, but at the time all I felt was the vast space, and a longing to climb across it. The unforgettable guitar riff for “The Ties that Bind” began, cutting through that space with joyous circus, yet also a boldness that suggested a bit more seriousness to it. As Springsteen sang on, and stretched out the words as he repeated the chorus “The ties that bii-eeeee-iiiiiii-nnnnd” you began to understand that notion of simplistic community, and wonder if it’s anything more than a notion.
I only made it through the first disc before the bus came: there were some good rockers, some soft ballads, capped off by the album’s masterpiece “The River,” whose epic length and soulful rhythms provide austere commentary on man’s place in the world, though at the time I simply remembered some fun tunes that played racquetball with my insides, that sent me to places I wasn’t sure of and places I didn’t know existed.
My entire trip home was every good thing you can imagine in the world. Happy people on a break from school heading towards the social and emotional comforts of home, ready to put on wide display the great deal of knowledge they’ve obtained – certainly not ‘intellectual’ knowledge, but knowledge of the sort that relates to human interaction and understanding. This is what college was about, sending yourself into those empty distances to push blocks around enough to eventually find familiarity with the surroundings.
I wasn’t far from home, but I was far enough not to know any of the people I was traveling with. I chatted with some people while waiting for the bus, and with the those I was sitting around. I had never considered myself to be popular, but I felt myself accepted and even well-liked on the bus ride, from people I didn’t know and people that I didn’t think I would normally find myself around. Maybe in the end people were just good, maybe it was just the natural exuberance of the situation, or maybe I could just be a damn likable guy when I wanted to be; it’s both satisfying and daunting to believe you are the source of your own happiness, for when it appears in such a fleeting situation you are never quite sure what brought it about or how you will ever get it back.
As I write this I am listening to The National’s most recent album “The Boxer.” It’s not close to Bruce, at all, closer to the transcendental rock of Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds. From what I understand Springsteen is not one of their influences, and I wonder if they have ever listened to his work; but as I sit here, writing about music that has affected my past and the music that is affecting my present I ponder my presence as the essential link between the two.
I have found my place as an important being in the universe, and I didn’t even have to go to the bus stop to figure it out.