Whenever I’m giving one of my friends a ride, SiriusXM playing in the background, the question inevitably arises: “What are you listening to?!”
My friends always have the same accusatory tone, the same anger in the eyes, the same why-do-I-have-to-listen-to-this glare. It’s as if I’m doing something wrong — as if the music playing in the car is a morally indefensible decision. My reaction used to be one of embarrassment — I’d apologize, switch the station to “The Spectrum,” and put on whatever unobjectionable rock song was on the radio at the time. But, over time, I’ve come to terms with my music tastes; regardless of who is in the car, I turn up the volume and drum my thumbs on the steering wheel in time with the bass drum’s thump, thump, thump.
I guess I’ll admit it: I’m a Bruce Springsteen fan.
Before you judge me — a brown 18-year-old listening to the 70-something personification of Americana — let me provide some background.
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As a kid, my dad and I would drive all over. I was on the travel soccer team — we had games in Rockford, Peoria, St. Louis. We’d be in the car for hours at a time, and, for my dad, this was a prime opportunity for him to “educate” me. So, he’d play Bruce records.
To be clear, little Shan hated Springsteen. Springsteen’s voice wasn’t that great, his music wasn’t that appealing, and — most importantly for me — he was old. When I thought of the Boss, I thought of eighty-year-olds reminiscing about their “good ol’ days” when they didn’t have creaking joints. Gross.
So, for the longest time, I tuned my dad out as he talked about how he’d stay up late listening to Darkness on the Edge of Town; I ignored him as he quoted lines from Springsteen songs. It was a huge waste of time.
And my dad started to notice my boredom: my exasperated sighs as Springsteen’s voice rasped through the speakers, my apathetic nods as he’d talk about trailing the band across the country, watching concert after concert. So, the E Street Band played less and less often in the car — the powerful rock music supplanted by auto-tuned pop songs. I didn’t miss it, to be clear. But, before I knew it, I stopped listening to music altogether. Without having a go-to band or genre to listen to, I didn’t feel particularly passionate about music, didn’t feel an attachment to it.
But then, in seventh grade, I got a free Spotify account. Our much-too-verbose science teacher compelled me to act — music was far preferable to being lectured during Supervised Study. As I skimmed through Spotify’s immense library, I stumbled upon a name I hadn’t seen for a couple of years: Bruce Springsteen.
For nostalgia’s sake, I decided to listen to a song. I clicked “Thunder Road,” popped my headphones in, and the words came to me in an instant. I didn’t even know that I knew the words, if that makes sense. But waiting for me, buried in my subconscious, the lyrics came pouring out. For the rest of that class period, I listened to Springsteen, whispering about the “magic in the night.” The next day, I did the same thing, putting on “The River.” Soon, I had made a huge playlist, shuffling through the songs every day.
While I had undergone a musical epiphany at school, I remained stubbornly unwilling to admit to my dad that he was right. It was a matter of pride for me — how could I possibly go crawling back? So, I’d listen to Springsteen on the sly, sneaking in time to listen to “Racing in the Street” in my room.
Bruce was always my dad’s favorite artist, but, over time, he became mine as well.
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And so, I’m unashamed of being a fan of Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band. His songs tell the story of a young man eager to go out and do something with his life — to work hard.
On those late nights when I’m studying for tests or doing homework, I look to Bruce’s music, his insistence to keep “working on a dream.” When feeling sad, I listen to “The Rising.” When feeling happy, I turn to “Born to Run.”
Bruce’s music has had such an impact on me — as a person, as a student, as a family member. A few years ago, I built up the courage to admit it to my dad, and now we listen to Bruce together — just like those car rides to St. Louis. Heck, I even talked about Springsteen in college applications.
So, if you ever need a ride from me, don’t be surprised if E Street Radio is playing in the car — I’ll be drumming on the wheel, singing along to the music.
I like how you write about your experience with music, especially when you write about the nostalgia that began when you listened to Bruce Springstein’s “Thunder Road” after a hiatus. I find it fascinating how your father, an avid fan of Springstein and you have similar taste in music despite the generational gap. I agree with you that sometimes we do not appreciate things immediately and in this case your appreciation for your dad’s music took years to evolve. However, I am so glad that you now understand your dad’s passion, a passion that has also become your own. I think it is cool that your dad went to wild concerts when he was younger, enjoying his artist, Bruce, in person. I think that even when we differ with musical taste, people should respect each other’s differences instead of getting irritated or angry. Even though you did not like the music when you were younger, I am still glad that you were able to spend hours in the car driving with your dad, priceless moments. Many years later, I am glad that you can revisit some of these memories when you drive again with your dad now but this time liking the same songs. Interestingly, even though you mentioned that you ignored your dad;s music in the car when you were younger, you still remember the lyrics so somehow you were listening but maybe in your subconscious memory. I think music is powerful because it can catapult us back into the past. Even though you seem to like all his songs, I find it interesting that you have matched songs with your mood and I wonder if this is from the musical notes or the lyrics.
Hi Shan!
I have to say, I really enjoyed reading your last blog post. I admired how you wrote the piece with a sense of rhythm that flowed through the narrative- it made the story easy to follow and fun to read! For me, I don’t recall ever having a musical epiphany as you did, but I could relate to the why-do-I-have-to-listen-to-this glare. It’s one I see too often from my younger sister, whenever I’m in charge of the music… But honestly, I find a bit of pride in that look she gives me because it means that my music is unique. Right?? On top of that, if everyone liked the same type of music, that would just be so boring- no?
Before reading your blog, I hadn’t ever heard of Bruce Springsteen or his music, but the way you described your friend’s reaction to him had me preparing myself when looking up his music. However, when Born to Run started playing, I was pleasantly surprised because I found it to be pretty good! I liked how upbeat it was and I definitely understand why that song would make you feel happy. I think I might have to look more into Springsteen’s music- thanks for the recommendation!
Hi Shan! I loved reading your blog post. It’s amazing how much of an impact music can have on us, and how others can impact us through music. It’s awesome being able to have a favorite artist that can provide background music for any kind of mood. I’ll admit, I don’t listen to much Springsteen, but I can relate to connecting with a parent through music. My mom and I are both huge music fans and constantly share new artists or songs with each other. I did listen to Thunder Road, and I thought it was great! I’ll definitely have to check out more of his work, thank you for introducing me to it! Overall, I loved your post. Music is something I love to talk about and hearing all kinds of perspectives and the journeys people go on to find their love of music is so interesting to me. Keep up the great work!
Hi Shan!
What a good week to finally get around to commenting on your blog!
Reading this post unwittingly brought back some of my own memories of elementary school (fun times!): I’d hear some Snoop Dogg or Guns n’ Roses song seeping through the door of my dad’s home office and wonder just how old you had to be to accept random noise as music. Like you, I was indifferent at best to the long-winded stories he’d tell me about growing up in India and falling in love with the b-sides and handmade mixtapes that personified Americana. In this light, I think it’s actually really commendable that you were successfully able to revisit those moments and make them your own– it demonstrates an open-mindedness that, frankly, I envy. For many of us, music plays a pretty significant role in our perception of ourselves and the world around us, and while I don’t actually know anything about Springsteen or his discography, I think the underlying idea that it’s always possible to find something meaningful or worthwhile in an idea you’d initially dismissed is pretty inspiring. I’ll never admit this to my dad, but reading your post gave me the motivation to give his awful (?) music taste another shot. Great job, and I’ll definitely be back next year!
(Also fun fact, I remember coming across a movie trailer a couple years ago for a movie called “Blinded by the Light” that immediately popped into my head when I read this. I don’t know how closely it would align with your story, but it might be fun to check out!)