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A review by adamz24
Bruce by Peter Ames Carlin
4.0
Most rock bios I've read have a pretty simple formula: tell a bunch of outrageous rock n' roll stories, and add some element of reflection and personal epiphany along the way, with a cursory examination of the artist's/band's music. But you can't do that with Bruce, a guy who drinks little, has never smoked or done any drugs, whose most outrageous antics seem to have been limited to onstage anger at an ex-girlfriend's presence in the audience, controversial politicking, and some instances of Bruce being less jovial on stage than usual. So what emerges is something more like a literary biography, tracing Springsteen's development and changes from 'new Dylan' folkie to street/boardwalk poet clad in Converse sneakers to social commentator inspired in part by Woody Guthrie, Flannery O'Connor, and John Ford movies to rock n' roll superstar to folkie recluse again to the Springsteen rocking the world's stages right now, the guy who at present seems to finally be comfortable with every iteration of himself and his public persona, and unusually committed to his chosen role of rocker and poet committed to the values of empathy, connectedness, community, and belief it turns out he's been committed to all along. I don't know what I would've thought of Springsteen if I was my age in the 70s or 80s. I know that now I think he's genuinely one of the most inspiring and important popular artists around, and has developed a body of writing (in his song lyrics) as diverse and interesting as any of the important American novelists of the last thirty or forty years.
Carlin's bio reminds me more of Every Love Story is a Ghost Story, the recent David Foster Wallace bio, than any rock bio I've read. It's just a book that tries to understand the public and private person behind a non-ironized, totally sincere and committed approach to addressing serious cultural issues and what it means to be a human being in a world like ours. Both books necessarily tackle their subjects' depression and sadness and personal and relationship troubles, but still focus more heavily on the work. The difference is that Springsteen, unlike Wallace, is hard to even make into a tragic, romantic figure, and hard to find any surprising anecdotes on. Springsteen, for all his riches, really does seem to be a regular guy, or at least a guy who's managed to put on a convincing act, maybe, and so this book's personal aspect is of little gossipy interest to anyone who isn't already a Springsteen fan. Perhaps its greatest value in that respect is in demonstrating what many of us suspected to be Springsteen's nature: he is a pretty ordinary outsider who struggles with depression and loneliness, who sees an ugly real world and an ideal dream world, and tries to find a psychic compromise rooted in the real humanity and compassion he's seen in the everyday folk he never quite lost touch with, tries to point to a way out, while never taking any injustice lightly.
It's not the kind of book that'll make somebody who isn't interested in Bruce magically interested in his writing or his music, and it contains no surprises whatsoever, but it's a fine bio, a good summary of a guy whose role in our cultural world is far from done, whose simple but incredibly sincere and serious and honest message seems to find a new appreciation and audience every time it seems he might have become totally irrelevant and historical. That he matters, on such deep and personal levels, to as many people as he does forty years after his first album emerged surely is testament to his importance as an artist. That he continues to add new fans, to inspire present-day rockers' ethos, is testament to his being something more.
Carlin's bio reminds me more of Every Love Story is a Ghost Story, the recent David Foster Wallace bio, than any rock bio I've read. It's just a book that tries to understand the public and private person behind a non-ironized, totally sincere and committed approach to addressing serious cultural issues and what it means to be a human being in a world like ours. Both books necessarily tackle their subjects' depression and sadness and personal and relationship troubles, but still focus more heavily on the work. The difference is that Springsteen, unlike Wallace, is hard to even make into a tragic, romantic figure, and hard to find any surprising anecdotes on. Springsteen, for all his riches, really does seem to be a regular guy, or at least a guy who's managed to put on a convincing act, maybe, and so this book's personal aspect is of little gossipy interest to anyone who isn't already a Springsteen fan. Perhaps its greatest value in that respect is in demonstrating what many of us suspected to be Springsteen's nature: he is a pretty ordinary outsider who struggles with depression and loneliness, who sees an ugly real world and an ideal dream world, and tries to find a psychic compromise rooted in the real humanity and compassion he's seen in the everyday folk he never quite lost touch with, tries to point to a way out, while never taking any injustice lightly.
It's not the kind of book that'll make somebody who isn't interested in Bruce magically interested in his writing or his music, and it contains no surprises whatsoever, but it's a fine bio, a good summary of a guy whose role in our cultural world is far from done, whose simple but incredibly sincere and serious and honest message seems to find a new appreciation and audience every time it seems he might have become totally irrelevant and historical. That he matters, on such deep and personal levels, to as many people as he does forty years after his first album emerged surely is testament to his importance as an artist. That he continues to add new fans, to inspire present-day rockers' ethos, is testament to his being something more.