Friday 2 August 2019

The 500 - #467 - Bruce Springsteen - Tunnel of Love


 I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-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. 


Album # 467

Album Title: Tunnel of Love
Artist: Bruce Springsteen
Released: October 1987
My age at release: 22
How familiar am I with it: Somewhat
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix: Brilliant Disguise selected by friend Jeff.
Great Lyric: 
"God have mercy on the man
Who doubts what he is sure of."

I was surprised to see this album appear on this list -- particularly when other albums from Springsteen were critically, and commercially, more successful. Then, I checked to see that, unsurprisingly, "The Boss" has eight records on the 500.
Here's a problem I knew I would have to face. I don't have eight Bruce Springsteen related stories to write about. However, I'm pushing forward. After all, I've experienced success when writing about other albums on the list that were outside my experience. 

So, let's dig into this one.

Tunnel of Love was released three years after Springsteen's most successful record, Born in the USA which... 

  • sold 30 million units worldwide
  • was certified platinum 15 times in the U.S.
  • had seven top ten hit singles
  • spawned a 156 date tour that lasted 16 months 

Consequently, Tunnel of Love has to be viewed in a different context. It is a stark departure from the high-energy, arena-rock style for which Springsteen was known throughout the 70s and early 80s. Bruce recorded most of the album by himself, without the E Street Band. Instead, he opted for drum machines and pre-programmed synthesizers. The result is a hollow, impersonal emptiness to many of the tracks -- certainly a precursor to the sound and themes of The Streets of Philadelphia which would earn him a Grammy & Oscar six years later.

To appreciate the journey I experienced during my deep-dive this week... I need to set the stage.

In 1987, I was in second year at the University of Western Ontario, but only attending part-time. I had made the mistake of becoming accustomed to having money. Many post-secondary students learn to tighten their purse strings and remain unemployed to focus on their studies. I chose to work several jobs and sacrifice a quicker sprint to my eventual degree.

I was well established with our city's Public Utility Commission (now Parks & Recreation), and had spent the summer as a lifeguard and swim instructor at a local pool. I also worked as a custodian/building attendant for two community centse. When fall arrived, the community centre gigs remained, while the life-guarding job transitioned to weekends at a hockey arena -- pegging nets, mopping sweaty dressing rooms and shoveling snow...so much snow. Sometimes, they let me drive the ice-resurfacer between games. It's much harder than you might think and a good "flood" is an art.

Driving home from school in mid-October (about the time this album was released), I saw a street sign reading - Pizza Delivery Driver Wanted - outside a popular restaurant called Fluffy's - a place I have mentioned in past posts. I made a decision that was, perhaps, ill-advised. I pulled in and secured my fourth part-time job. In retrospect, it might have been wiser for me to work a single job (or perhaps two) and attend university full-time for three more years. Instead, I worked 50+ hours a week for the next five years as I slowly got my first degree...a few painful credits at a time. 

This album held little interest for me at the time. I didn't dislike it -- the singles Tunnel of Love and One Step Up got plenty of play in my car, often when I was delivering pizzas and listening to the radio. I just wasn't a huge fan. 
Looking back, I realize that it wasn't written for a twenty-two-year old Canadian university student. This album was forged in a different fire -- one that I wouldn't fully appreciate until the multiple listens I gave it this week while exploring its complex history.


Tunnel of Love (the record or the song) ruminates on a disquieting journey through the perils of relationships. Thirty-seven-year old Springsteen was, at the time of this record's creation, married to actress Julianne Phillips -- 10 years his junior. She is probably best known as the romantic lead in the Chevy Chase film Fletch Lives. It is clear, the relationship between Springsteen and Phillips was coming undone. She filed for divorce shortly after the record was released and much can be gleaned from the lyrics. 

Consider this passage from One Step Up ...


It's the same thing night on night,

Who's wrong baby, who's right.
Another fight and I slam the door on
Another battle in our dirty little war.
When I look at myself I don't see
The man I wanted to be.
Somewhere along the line I  slipped off track.
I'm caught movin' one step up, and two steps back.

In the next verse, the speaker in Springsteen's story is unfaithful while at a bar. Most interestingly, the back-up singer on this track is Patty Scialfa, whom Bruce would marry a few years later. In a 1995 interview, when asked about these relationships, Springsteen said:
"It's a strange society that assumes it has the right to tell people whom they should love and whom they shouldn't. But the truth is, I basically ignored the entire thing as much as I could. I said, 'Well, all I know is, this feels real, and maybe I have got a mess going here in some fashion, but that's life."
This realization brought me full circle. This is a tremendously personal record, written by a man on the verge of 40 who was watching his marriage disintegrate and recorded in his home studio where they both lived. Its simple, sometimes empty sound, echoes a personal reckoning. This is not a record that a happy, healthy, busy young student in a great relationship was going to understand. 
Me, 1988-ish, at Fluffy's - you can just make out
the neonin the back.
However, like many great works of art, it waited patiently ... until I was old enough to appreciate it more fully ... 32 years later. 

  

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