Deliver ME, Boss
I watched an artist battle his demons, and I understood completely.
I just came from the new Springsteen biopic, Deliver Me From Nowhere.
It hit me harder than I expected — blindsided me, honestly. It is one of the best examples I've seen of how art breaks us and heals us. This essay me seeing the shape of things from the field, not as a spectator.
The Musical-less Wolf 
I have never been a huge Springsteen fan. I like his hits and appreciate his success. In recently years, I am learning I have never really had a relationship with music.
I think if I had, at a younger age, I would be dramatically different than I am.
Diving deep on lyrics and music is like discovering I had been living in the foyer of a mansion my whole life. Opening the door to the rest of the house was and continues to be exceptionally exciting.
What I Thought About the Movie (it's about time)
My wife is the Springsteen fan. She has lots of stories of his songs defining parts of her life. In fact, if she was a better communicator, I think I would have come into my own as an appreciator of music much sooner in life.
So it was she who said, 'Hey, new Springsteen biopic is playing tonight at 10, wanna go?'
We were late. We're always late. Movies now habitually play a half an hour of ads and trailers before movies. No thanks. But we'd miscalculated and missed the first 10 minutes of the film. It's not a big deal, I like to say, it'll feel like watching it for the first time the next time.
When we arrived, Springsteen's manager has already rented him a house to help the artist recenter as his fame begins to affect his creativity.
The story is the artist's struggle with the demons of emotional baggage. Something with which I very much resonated. I first found my eyes welling when I watched him struggling to write and capture the muse. I understand the grind and the frustration. He even tells a friend, when he is in the process, he's no good to anyone.
I am blown away I have something so profoundly in common with this poet/singer/songwriter. I don't know why, it is likely part of what makes art so hard to do. But, it felt like discovering light, or air. And it opened me up a little.
Of course, the departure comes when labels throw stacks and stacks at the Boss for his work.
You know what? He'd do it even if he didn't get paid. Art is a form of mental illness. It chooses us as much or possibly more than we choose it. And I feel like the filmmaker did a good job of showing it. This story was Bruce trying to get something out of him through his art, and God bless him for not letting the money people screw it up.
Art has become commerce. Greedy people always want more. They would charge us for air if they could. And with art, this is exactly what they've done. A friend gave me a magnet that says: 'Earth without Art is just Eh'.
Clever, but true. We have to create.
The best and worst thing that could happen to any of us is we get paid for our art. Even worse, getting paid well for it, necessitating the artist perform. And not the good, cathartic kind of performance. The you-are-a-slot-machine kind.
Artists need their protectors. Springsteen's came in the form of his manager/friend, Jon Landau.
If the film is accurate, I have to give Landau credit for Bruce Springsteen existing in the form that we know of him. It seems to me, without his bulwark, Springsteen would have been bulldozed under the machinery of profit. But, while Bruce was writhing on the floor with his monsters (LITERALLY at one point in the film), Landau was a I-dont-give-a-damn-sabout-your-spreadsheet-cheerleader for the Boss.
Damned. I loved that.
I've made my living from my art in one form or another for 30 years. It's not an impressive living, but it is a living. I can't tell you how often I've just felt like a commodity. Useful for the lowest possible price and then just cast aside when I wasn't profitable anymore.
Landau had faith in a friend and an artist. We should all be so fortunate to have someone (or someoneS) like that in our lives. 'In this office, we BELIEVE in Bruce.' Man, I really hope he said that. It's a great line.
I felt connected to the performance. I was watching the reality of a once and always tortured artist. I won't say I wept through the entire film... but I was bleary-eyed frequently!
Fathers and Ghost
Springsteen's relationship with his father is central to his life course. This was yet another heart-rending connection for me. While my experience was different, I can absolutely relate to an emotionally absent dad. Toward the end, Bruce is beginning his trajectory to superstardom and at 32, he has a private meeting with his father after a performance.
His dad asks him to sit on his lap.
I think a lot of us feel like we weren't enough for our fathers. Or that we were the wrong son or daughter. And it messes us up.
It produces only two kinds of people:
1) they who blame mom and/or dad for all their woes and celebrate their victimhood their whole lives, producing one bad experience after another.
2) they who struggle with the baggage, but ultimately understand their father (or both parents) were doing the best they could with the tools they were given.
It is a mark of high emotional intelligence to understand generational trauma.
And even higher intelligence to overcome it.
For several years, Springsteen almost lost that battle. In the end, he tamed the dragon and wielded it to great creative effect. I think we are all richer for the fight.
Talk about thanking your parents for your success!
I don't know if this is a good biopic, or even a good movie. I was far to lost in the emotion of it all to be even close to objective. I do think the recent Chalamet-Bob Dylan biopic was probably better in terms of narrative storytelling.
From my point of view 'Deliver Me' was more about exploring the struggle and emotion of being a true creative and a very difficult part of an artists life. The narrative of this was so powerful, that the usual tropes of this happens, then this happens, then it's all okay kind of got lost in the process.
And I think that's beautiful.
10 stars — ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Recommend.
Some standout scenes for me:
Taking Faye to an amusement park at 2am
Making music with the basics, just him and a guitar, a guy and a few tape machines.
Springsteen, at a low point, races his Camaro through the New Jersey woods, ultimately careening out of control as a result of slipping into an un hinged rage.
Laying on this living room floor listening to Suicide's Frankie Teardrop on repeat.
Seeing his father and younger self at the fair in El Paso
The moment when the therapist tells him to say as much or as little as he wants
Sitting on his father's lap as a 32 year old rock star
It was an exceptional experience. One that I'm not sure I've had before in quite this way. Will it change my life measurably? Not in that today-is-a-brand-new-day sort of way. But, there is comfort in seeing yourself in the art of another.
I like to say that great art is not owned, it is experienced, or entered. And by that measure, Deliver Me From Nowhere is high art. At the very very least, I have been triggered to look more closely at his catalog. Particularly tonight, I am listening to the album Nebraska on repeat.
Springsteen was painting his Whistler's Mother—Nighthawk Cafe—his American Gothic. What BLOWS ME AWAY, is that he knew it. I have never created anything with the certitude that he did with this album. And perhaps that makes me weep too—realizing what a hopeless fraud I really am.
But, if so, maybe I can find work as a music critic.
Love always,
Wolf
#essay #100daystooffset #writing #story #osxs #music
Discuss...
Nebraska
Bruce Springsteen – 1982
Man, this is some dark stuff. I didn't realize it until I read the lyrics of the album.
NEBRASKA
I saw her standing on her front lawn
Just a-twirling her baton
Me and her went for a ride, sir
And ten innocent people died
From the town of Lincoln, Nebraska
With a sawed-off .410 on my lap
Through the badlands of Wyoming
I killed everything in my path
I can't say that I'm sorry
For the things that I've done
At least for a little while, sir
Me and her, we had us some fun
Well, the jury brought in a guilty verdict
And the judge, he sentenced me to death
Midnight in prison storeroom
With leather straps across my chest
Sheriff, when the man hits that switch, sir
And snaps my poor head back
You make sure my pretty baby
Is sittin' right there on my lap
Well, they declared me unfit to live
Said into that great void, my soul'd be hurled
They want to know why I did what I did
And sir, I guess there's just a meanness in this world
ATLANTIC CITY
Well, they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night
Now they blew up his house too
Down on the boardwalk, they're getting ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do
Now there's trouble busing in from out of state
And the DA can't get no relief
Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade
And the gambling commission's hanging on by the skin of its teeth
Well, now everything dies, baby, that's a fact
Maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Well, I got a job and tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man can pay
So I drew what I had from the central trust
And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus
Now baby, everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
But with you forever I'll stay
We're going out where the sand's turning to gold
Put on your stockings, baby, 'cause the night's getting cold
And everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Now I've been looking for a job, but it's hard to find
Down here it's just winners and losers
That don't get caught on the wrong side of that line
Well, I'm tired of coming out on this losing end
So, honey, last night I met this guy, and I'm gonna do a little favor for him
Well, I guess everything dies, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your hair up nice, fix yourself up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
You'll meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Go meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
ooh
(Meet me tonight in Atlantic City) woo-ooh
(Meet me tonight in Atlantic City) woo-ooh
(Meet me tonight in Atlantic City) woo-ooh
(Meet me tonight in Atlantic City)
MANSION ON A HILL
There's a place out on the edge of town sir
Risin' above the factories and the fields
And ever since I was a child, I can remember
That mansion on the hill
In the day you can see the children playing
On the road that leads
To those gates of hardened steel
Steel gates that completely surround it
The mansion on the hill
At night, my daddy'd take me, and we'd ride
Through the streets of a town so silent and still
Park on a back road along the highway side
Look up at that mansion on the hill
In the summer, all the lights would shine
There'd be music playin', people laughin' all the time
Me and my sister, we'd hide out in the tall corn fields
Sit and listen to the mansion on the hill
Tonight down here in Linden Town
I watch the cars rushin' by home from the mill
There's a beautiful full moon risin'
Above the mansion on the hill
JOHNNY 99
Ooh-ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh
Well they closed down the auto plant in Mahwah late that month
Ralph went out lookin' for a job but he couldn't find none
He came home too drunk from mixin' Tanqueray and wine
He got a gun, shot a night clerk, now they call him Johnny 99
Down in the part of town where when you hit a red light you don't stop
Johnny's wavin' his gun around and threatenin' to blow his top
When an off-duty cop snuck up on him from behind
Out in front of the Club Tip Top they slapped the cuffs on Johnny 99
Well the city supplied a public defender but the judge was Mean John Brown
He came into the courtroom and stared poor Johnny down
Well the evidence is clear, gonna let the sentence, son, fit the crime
Prison for ninety-eight and a year and we'll call it even Johnny 99
Fistfight broke out in the courtroom, they had to drag Johnny's girl away
His mama stood up and shouted, “Judge don't take my boy this way”
Well, son, you got any statement you'd like to make
Before the bailiff comes to forever take you away?
Now judge, judge I got debts no honest man could pay
The bank was holdin' my mortgage and takin' my house away
Now I ain't sayin' that make me an innocent man
But it was more 'n all this that put that gun in my hand
Well, your honor, I do believe I'd be better off dead
And if you can take a man's life for the thoughts that's in his head
Then won't you sit back in that chair and think it over just one more time
And let 'em shave off my hair and put me on that execution line (woo)
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN
My name is Joe Roberts
I work for the state
I'm a sergeant out of Pineville
Barracks number eight
I always done an honest job
As honest as I could
I got a brother named Franky
And Franky ain't no good
Now ever since we was young kids
It's been the same come down
I get a call on the short-wave, Franky's in trouble downtown
Well, if it was any other man, I'd put him straight away
But when it's your brother sometimes you look the other way
Me and Franky laughin' and drinkin'
Nothin' feels better than blood on blood
Takin' turns dancin' with Maria
As the band played “Night of the Johnstown Flood”
I catch him when he's strayin' like any brother would
Man turns his back on his family
Well, he just ain't no good
Well, Franky went in the army, back in 1965
I got a farm deferment, settled down, took Maria for my wife
But them wheat prices kept on droppin'
'Til it was like we were gettin' robbed
Franky came home in '68
And me, I took this job
Yeah, we're laughin' and drinkin'
Nothin' feels better than blood on blood
Takin' turns dancin' with Maria
As the band played “Night of the Johnstown Flood”
I catch him when he's strayin'
Teach him how to walk that line
Man turns his back on his family
He ain't no friend of mine
Well, the night was like any other
I got a call 'bout quarter to nine
There was trouble in a roadhouse
Out on the Michigan line
There was a kid lyin' on the floor lookin' bad
Bleedin' hard from his head
There was a girl cryin' at a table
And it was Frank, they said
Well, I went out and I jumped in my car
And I hit the lights
Well, I must have done a hundred and ten
Through Michigan county that night
It was out at the crossroads
Down round Willow bank
Seen a Buick with Ohio plates
Behind the wheel was Frank
Well, I chased him through them county roads
'Til a sign said Canadian border five miles from here
I pulled over the side of the highway
And watched his tail lights disappear
Me and Franky laughin' and drinkin'
Nothin' feels better than blood on blood
Takin' turns dancin' with Maria
As the band played “Night of the Johnstown Flood”
I catch him when he's strayin' like any brother would
Man turns his back on his family
Well, he just ain't no good
STATE TROOPER
New Jersey turnpike, ridin' on a wet night
'Neath the refinery's glow, out where the great black rivers flow
License, registration, I ain't got none
But I got a clear conscience 'bout the things that I done
Mister state trooper, please don't stop me
Please don't stop me, please don't stop me
Maybe you got a kid, maybe you got a pretty wife
The only thing that I got's been botherin' me my whole life
Mister state trooper, please don't stop me
Please don't stop me, please don't stop me
In the wee, wee hours, your mind gets hazy
Radio relay towers gon' lead me to my baby
Radio's jammed up with talk show stations
It's just talk, talk, talk, talk, till you lose your patience
Mister state trooper, please don't stop me
Hey, somebody out there, listen to my last prayer
Hi ho silver-o, deliver me from nowhere
Hi ho
USED CAR
My little sister's in the front seat, with an ice cream cone
My ma's in the backseat sittin' all alone
As my pa steers her slow out of the lot
For a test drive down Michigan Avenue
Now my ma she fingers her wedding band
And watches the salesman stare at my old man's hands
He's tellin' us all 'bout the break he'd give us
If he could, but he just can't
Well, if I could, I swear I know just what I'd do
Now mister the day the lottery I win
I ain't ever gonna ride in no used car again
Now the neighbors come from near and far
As we pull up in our brand new used car
I wish he'd just hit the gas and let out a cry
And tell 'em all they can kiss our asses goodbye
Dad, he sweats the same job from mornin' to morn'
Me, I walk home on the same dirty streets where I was born
Up the block, I can hear my little sister
In the front seat blowin' that horn
The sounds echo on all down Michigan Avenue
Now mister the day my number comes in
I ain't ever gonna ride in no used car again
OPEN ALL NIGHT
I had the carburetor cleaned and checked
With her line blown out she's hummin' like a turbojet
Propped her up in the backyard on concrete blocks
For a new clutch plate and a new set of shocks
Took her down to the carwash check the plugs and points
I'm goin' out tonight I'm gonna rock that joint
Early north Jersey industrial skyline
I'm a all set cobra jet creepin' through the nighttime
Gotta find a gas station gotta find a payphone
This turnpike sure is spooky at night when you're all alone
Gotta hit the gas baby I'm runnin' late
This New Jersey in the mornin' like a lunar landscape
The boss don't dig me so he put me on the nightshift
It takes me two hours to get back to where my baby lives
In the wee wee hours your mind gets hazy
Radio relay towers won't you lead me to my baby
Underneath the overpass trooper hits his party light switch
Goodnight good luck one two powershift
I met Wanda when she was employed
Behind the counter at the route 60 Bob's Big Boy
Fried Chicken on the front seat she's sittin' in my lap
We're wipin' our fingers on a Texaco roadmap
I remember Wanda up on scrap metal hill
With them big brown eyes that make your heart stand still
5 A.M. oil pressure's sinkin' fast
I make a pit stop wipe the windshield check the gas
Gotta call my baby on the telephone
Let her know that her daddy's comin' on home
Sit tight little mamma I'm comin' round
I got 3 more hours but I'm coverin' ground
Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours
Sun's just a red ball risin' over them refinery towers
Radio's jammed up with gospel stations
Lost souls callin' long distance salvation
Hey Mr. DJ won't ya hear my last prayer
Hey ho rock 'n' roll deliver me from nowhere
MY FATHER'S HOUSE
Last night I dreamed that I was a child
Out where the pines grow wild and tall
I was trying to make it home through the forest
Before the darkness falls
I heard the wind rustling through the trees
And ghostly voices rose from the fields
I ran with my heart pounding down that broken path
With the devil snapping at my heels
I broke through the trees and there in the night
My father's house stood shining hard and bright
The branches and brambles tore my clothes and scratched my arms
But I ran 'til I fell shaking in his arms
I awoke and I imagined, the hard things that pulled us apart
Will never again, sir, tear us from each other's hearts
I got dressed and to that house, I did ride
From out on the road I could see its windows shining in light
I walked up the steps and stood on the porch
A woman I didn't recognize came and spoke to me through a chained door
I told her my story and who I'd come for
She said “I'm sorry son but no one by that name lives here anymore”
My father's house shines hard and bright
It stands like a beacon calling me in the night
Calling and calling, so cold and alone
Shining 'cross this dark highway where our sins lie unatoned
REASON TO BELIEVE
Seen a man standin' over a dead dog
By the highway in a ditch
He's lookin' down kinda puzzled
Pokin' that dog with a stick
Got his car door flung open
He's standin' out on Highway 31
Like if he stood there long enough
That dog'd get up and run
Struck me kinda funny
Seemed kinda funny sir to me
Still at the end of every hard day
People find some reason to believe
Now Mary Lou loved Johnny
With a love mean and true
She said baby I'll work for you every day
Bring my money home to you
One day he up and left her
And ever since that
She waits down at the end of that dirt road
For young Johnny to come back
Struck me kinda funny
Funny yeah, indeed
How at the end of every hard-earned day
People find some reason to believe
Take a baby to the river
Kyle William, they called him
Wash the baby in the water
Take away little Kyle's sin
In a whitewash shotgun shack
An old man passes away
Take the body to the graveyard
Over him, they pray
Lord won't you tell us?
Tell us what does it mean
At the end of every hard-earned day
People find some reason to believe
Congregation gathers
Down by the riverside
Preacher stands with a bible
Groom stands waitin' for his bride
Congregation gone, the sun sets
Behind a weepin' willow tree
Groom stands alone and watches the river
Rush on so effortlessly
Wonderin'
Where can his baby be
Still at the end of every hard-earned day
People find some reason to believe
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Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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