The 500 - #86 - Born In The U.S.A. - Bruce Springsteen

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album #: 86

Album Title: Born In The U.S.A.

Artist: Bruce Springsteen

Genre:  Rock, Heartland Rock, Pop

Recorded: Power Station Studios and Hit Factory Studios, New York, New York

Released: June, 1984

My age at release: 18

How familiar was I with it before this week: Very

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #142 - dropping 56 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Glory Days

There is a particular confidence that comes with being young. Not necessarily confidence in yourself -- I was a chaotic jumble of angst, acne and anxiety as a teen -- but I had confidence in my place in the world. It is a time when you think you know everything and you do know the culturally hip landscape intimately. You're fluent in the slang. You know which movies are worth lining up for on opening weekend, but you've also seen the smaller films that will eventually be recognized for their innovation, craftsmanship, and lasting influence.

You've found your tribe and settled into its uniform. Maybe it's denim, leather, band T-shirts, parachute pants, rugby tops, Polo shirts, high-top sneakers, or some combination that would look ridiculously anachronistic today. You've perfected your hairstyle -- for me it was a perfectly coiffed mullet, with feathered bangs on the sides.

Me in 1985.

At the time, though, it wasn't a costume. It was armour. It told the world exactly who you were and, just as importantly, who you weren't. You might experiment with elements borrowed from another clique's style. You might flirt with a different haircut, a different jacket, or even a different soundtrack. Underneath it all, however, you were absolutely convinced that your look, your music, your movies, and your generation had landed squarely on the right side of cool.

When I think back to that feeling, I often return to a car ride on the morning of January 1, 1984. The night before, I had been at a New Year's Eve party hosted by my girlfriend Maria's brother, Danny. After helping with clean-up and a hearty breakfast, Danny offered to drive me home from the east end of London all the way to Byron in the west. It was a substantial trip, especially after a late night, and while I'm sure I thanked him at the time, I appreciate the gesture even more in hindsight. It was a generous thing to do for his little sister's boyfriend.

I distinctly remember a stop for gas and, as Danny pumped in fuel, Van Halen's latest, and biggest, hit single, Jump, played on the radio. Their upcoming record, 1984, would hit shelves a few days later and my friends and I were still coming to terms with their new sound.

What we didn't realize at the time was that we were listening to more than a hit song. We were hearing a changing of the guard. The great rock bands of the 1970s were finding ways to survive and thrive in a new decade. Synthesizers that once seemed confined to New Wave acts were becoming part of mainstream rock. Advances in recording technology were creating bigger, brighter and more polished productions. Music videos were becoming almost as important as the songs themselves. The old rules had not disappeared, but they were being rewritten. Van Halen was teaching us that the future of rock would not look exactly like its past.

For a long time, I reflected on 1984 as the year when everything came together. What I've gradually come to realize, however, is that we rarely remember a single year as vividly as we think we do. Memory compresses time. When we point to one magical year, we are often talking about a larger period that surrounds it. In my case, when I say "1984," I am really talking about the remarkable three-year stretch from 1983 to 1985. Those were the final years of high school and the beginning of adulthood for me. I moved from 17 to 20 during that span, and felt completely plugged in to the culture of the moment.

The timing was extraordinary. MTV had transformed the way music was marketed in the United States, and MuchMusic would soon do the same in Canada. Record companies were pouring unprecedented resources into turning albums into blockbuster events, releasing multiple hit singles and accompanying videos designed to dominate both radio and television. At the same time, the decade was finally beginning to define itself visually. The earth tones, softly feathered hair, and lingering styles of the 1970s were fading in the rearview mirror, replaced by neon colours, shoulder pads, leather jackets, designer sneakers, spandex, oversized sweatshirts, and enough hairspray to threaten the atmosphere. The ‘80s that people nostalgically remember today had arrived.

And talk about blockbusters. The number of multi-platinum selling albums, with a plethora of hit songs on them, released between 1983 and 1985 was staggering. Just as important was the rise of the music video. Record companies were suddenly spending hundreds of thousands, and sometimes millions, of dollars on elaborate productions complete with storylines, special effects, exotic locations, and cinematic production values. A hit song was no longer enough. Artists now needed a memorable visual identity to accompany it. Consider the first half of this three-year span:

• Cyndi Lauper - She's So Unusual (5 singles, #487 on The 500)

• Culture Club - Colour By Numbers (4 singles)

• Huey Lewis & The News - Sports (4 singles)

• Def Leppard - Pyromania (3 singles) 

• The Police - Synchronicity (4 singles, #448 on The 500), 

• David Bowie - Let's Dance (3 singles)

• Journey - Frontiers (3 singles)

• U2 - War (3 singles, #228 on The 500)

• ZZ Top - Eliminator (3 singles, #398 on The 500)

• Michael Jackson - Thriller (6 singles, #20 on The 500)

• Van Halen - 1984 (4 singles)

• Prince - Purple Rain (4 singles, #76 on The 500)

And we are only halfway through this pivotal period in my teenage life. In June,1984, one blockbuster had barely left the record store shelves before another arrived. On June 4, Bruce Springsteen released Born in the U.S.A., an album that would produce seven Top 10 singles and ultimately sell more than 30 million copies worldwide.

Springsteen in 1984.

Yet its path to becoming one of the most successful records in rock history was anything but straightforward. Much of its DNA can be traced back to the stark, acoustic recording sessions that produced Nebraska in 1982 (#226 on The 500). During those sessions, Springsteen recorded dozens of additional songs, many of which would eventually be reworked with his backing group, the E Street Band, and transformed into the larger, louder, and far more commercial sound of Born in the U.S.A.

Bruce with the E Street Band.

That unlikely journey, from the lonely landscapes of Nebraska to the stadium-filling anthems of Born in the U.S.A., received renewed attention in the 2025 biopic Deliver Me from Nowhere, which chronicles the making of Nebraska and the creative crossroads Springsteen found himself navigating in the early 1980s. It is one of rock music's great tales of evolution. The album that emerged from those sessions became a cultural phenomenon, while the album that almost wasn't, continues to fascinate musicians and fans decades later.

As I was preparing this post, I found myself in a conversation with my good friend and previous guest blogger, Jeff Lewis. Jeff is a serious Springsteen fan, having seen The Boss live four times, so I knew he would have some thoughts on Born in the U.S.A.. I also knew I was giving him little notice. As it turned out, that was less an obstacle than an invitation. Within what felt like minutes, my phone lit up with a thoughtful, detailed response that was longer than most of my high school essays.

From Jeff:

Springsteen’s Born in The U.S.A. album may be one of the most misunderstood albums of the ‘80s. Fans and radio listeners heard a pop album with upbeat melodies and catchy hooks. However, for the savvy record listener, the lyrics told a different story.

Those same songs with the bright keyboard riffs, booming production, and cannon-shot snare drums were, in many ways, a continuation of the dark, working-class stories Springsteen had explored on Nebraska. Beneath the stadium-sized choruses and radio-friendly hooks were songs about people confronting disappointment, dead-end jobs, broken dreams, and the uneasy realization that life had not unfolded the way they had imagined. The music sounded triumphant. The characters often were not.

The title track, Born in the U.S.A., remains the album's most famous example. Originally developed under the working title "Vietnam," the song is still mistaken for a flag-waving patriotic anthem. In reality, it is a bitter protest song about a Vietnam veteran who returns home only to discover that the country he served has little use for him. Its message is uncompromising; ordinary people are often asked to make extraordinary sacrifices, only to find themselves forgotten when those sacrifices are no longer convenient.

Dancing in the Dark may be the album's most radio-friendly song, with its infectious melody and polished pop sheen, but beneath the surface is a young man wrestling with frustration, self-doubt, and the feeling that life is passing him by. My Hometown paints a portrait of a small American town in decline, where blue-collar jobs are disappearing and old racial tensions still linger beneath the surface. Downbound Train tells the story of a man who loses not only his livelihood but also his sense of direction as economic hardship slowly dismantles the life he once envisioned. Even Working on the Highway, wrapped in an upbeat rockabilly groove, centres on a labourer serving time on a chain gang. Meanwhile, Glory Days taps into something universal. We can laugh at the characters' rose-coloured nostalgia, but we also recognize ourselves in them as they cling to cherished memories and look back on the promise and carelessness of youth.

The album was not entirely bleak. Darlington County follows two friends looking for adventure and trouble on a road trip, while No Surrender captures the idealism, friendship, and restless energy of youth. Yet the darker themes are never far below the surface. Misinterpreted or not, by 1985 everyone recognized Born in the U.S.A. from its opening notes. We sang along at parties, blasted it from car stereos, and celebrated its enormous choruses. Only later did many of us realize that beneath the sing-alongs and fist-pumping hooks were stories of struggle, loss, and disillusionment. The music felt like a celebration. The lyrics often told a very different story.

Back to Me:

I suppose I am indulging in a little bit of my own Glory Days nostalgia as I think back to June, 1984, when Born in the U.S.A. began its 140-week run on the Billboard charts. I was preparing for my final year of high school and, at the time, 18 felt grown up. Now I realize it was really the beginning of everything. Life stretched out endlessly ahead, the music kept getting bigger, and every few weeks seemed to bring another album destined for heavy rotation on car stereos, bedroom turntables and MuchMusic. As the summer passed, I could see 20 approaching, even if I wasn't quite ready to believe it.

Here are the blockbusters that followed, and the hit songs contained on each:

• Madonna - Like A Virgin (5 singles)

• U2 - The Unforgettable Fire (2 singles)

• Bryan Adams - Reckless (6 singles)

• Dire Straits - Brothers In Arms (4 singles, #352 on The 500)

• Tears For Fears - Songs From The Big Chair (4 singles)

• John Cougar Mellencamp - Scarecrow (3 singles)

• Whitney Houston - self-titled debut (3 singles)

• Heart - self-titled eighth record (4 singles)

• Phil Collins - No Jacket Required (4 singles)

Looking back at that time makes me realize that Springsteen nailed the emotion I now feel

“Glory Days, yea, they’ll pass you by
Glory Days, in the wink of a young girl’s eye
Glory Days”