Small-town angst is something almost all Bruce Springsteen fans can relate to. No one describes that feeling better than The Boss—you can see that finish line, imagine yourself speeding off onto that dark and dusty road—but many people never quite know how to make it there. They get stuck.
Darkness on the Edge of Town evokes the opposite feeling. Bruce’s fourth studio album (and perhaps the most underrated of his earlier records) lets the listener know that perseverance and grit can get you out of any place, no matter where you are. Your hometown and history do not have to define you.
Differing from Born to Run—which was filled with producer Phil Spector’s signature sound—the sweet nostalgia and optimism of youth is left behind for something darker, more intense; perhaps even bitter. His lyrics convey a new sense of resilience and stinging disappointment, taking inspiration from author John Steinbeck and Western filmmaker John Ford. It takes hard work to make dreams pay off, and he actualizes it in Darkness on the Edge of Town. Nothing comes easy. And his characters don’t expect it to.
The album’s production was tumultuous. Three years after the resounding success of Born to Run in 1975, Bruce struggled to record the album with two studios, also dealing with legal battles with his former manager and becoming frustrated with the way the record was coming together. He wanted a raw, more hard-rock sound, but struggled to give this direction during the recording sessions.
However, Bruce and the E Street Band pulled through after nine months, producing an album of ten songs that were picked out of an approximate 50 to 70 that had been made. Bruce reportedly said while deciding which songs to keep that “Each song had to remain sober and austere, so as to convey its message as effectively as possible.”
Well, the message was conveyed: kicking off the album with an anthem such as “Badlands” immediately sets the tone. It’s a defiant opener. The rhythm is immediately charging, propelled by Max Weinberg’s thunderous drums, Roy Bittan’s piano driving the song into its chorus. “Badlands, you gotta live it every day / Let the broken hearts stand / As the price you've gotta pay.” Per usual (although less frequent on Darkness on the Edge of Town than his previous albums), Clarence Clemons’ sax solos add texture to an already intensely layered song; both Bruce’s and Steven Van Zandt’s guitar work creates a triumphant, almost urgent sound. Even if your life sucks, even if everyone around you is going through the motions with no passion, no fire, you can create meaning. You can change things: “I wanna find one face / That ain't looking through me / I wanna find one place / I wanna spit in the face of these Badlands.”
The album carries on with two more tracks—“Adam Raised a Cain”, a biting cut about the turbulent relationship between a father and son, and “Something in the Night”, which feels more like a poem over a powerfully simple drum beat from Weinberg.
A particularly noticeable but frequently overlooked track is “Candy’s Room”, which is the conglomeration of two of Springsteen’s unfinished songs from the album’s recording sessions. It’s a song about desperation, desire, and lust. Candy’s magnetic power draws the narrator in and doesn’t let him out—but he doesn’t want to leave. It has a sound that escalates; initially fast, yet quiet, Weinberg’s repetitive cymbal taps and Bittan’s sparkling piano paving the way for Bruce’s hushed whispering of the lyrics, a real sense of quiet desperation as the song progresses. It has no real chorus, simply a buildup of sound until it comes together in one huge explosion, Bruce’s guitar and voice bending and screaming as the narrator wishes Candy was his and his alone.
Next—a total switch-up in sound from “Candy’s Room”—is “Racing in the Street”, another song that features Bruce’s spoken word rather than powerful vocals. The lyrics tell a story of stagnant lives juxtaposed with the fervor of street racing. The piano is rather simplistic, accompanied by Bruce’s melancholy voice and the church-like organ and drum. It shows a fading, dying dream, the desperation to hold on to something that still gives meaning. “Now some guys they just give up living / And start dying little by little, piece by piece / Some guys come home from work and wash up / And go racin' in the street.”
“The Promised Land” is perhaps the most optimistic song on the album and the most reminiscent of Born to Run’s youthful tone. Despite its positive outlook, there’s an underlying sense of anger and desperation. The song is led by Bruce on harmonica (an ode to Dylan as Bruce has credited) and pushed by Danny Federici’s organ throughout. The narrator is determined to change things and get out of his mundane small town. Weinberg’s drumbeat feels like a march into something new, the search for someone who understands and the mythical Promised Land that will give him these things: “Sometimes I feel so weak I just want to explode / Explode and tear this whole town apart / Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart / Find somebody itching for something to start.” Before ending on the chorus once more, Bruce shows the action taken by the narrator, the refusal to fall into the patterns reflected in his town. “Well there's a dark cloud rising from the desert floor / I packed my bags and I'm heading straight into the storm / Gonna be a twister to blow everything down / That ain't got the faith to stand its ground.”
The album continues through “Factory”, “Streets of Fire” and “Prove it All Night”, which all convey the working man’s disillusionment and the attraction for something new. But, notably, this theme is truly encapsulated in the final title track: “Darkness on the Edge of Town.”
Instead of the narrator yearning for something new, something tangible, there’s an air of mystery and finality in this song. He is standing his ground. The darkness on the edge of town does not scare him—it has fascinated him for too long, and in the face of loss, he is determined to experience it. Marked with failure, the man is resilient, he stands tall, he stands proud: “Well if she wants to see me / You can tell her that I'm easily found.” The guitar is a bit choppier and more unpolished; it’s gritty like the narrator, the drumbeat steady and strong as he marches into the fate he’s surrendered to.
It’s a moment of hard-earned realism: “Tonight I'll be on that hill 'cause I can't stop / I'll be on that hill with everything I got / Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost / I'll be there on time and I'll pay the cost / For wanting things that can only be found / In the darkness on the edge of town.” It’s a fascinatingly perfect way to close out the album. The narrator grimly accepts what loss and betrayal has come towards him, but will to continue to move forward.
Darkness on the Edge of Town never ended up with the same commercial success as Born to Run, lacking any high-charting singles. But it remains one of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band’s masterpieces, staying on the charts for 97 weeks after its release in summer of 1978. Bruce said he’d “found his adult voice” over the course of the album and actualized his need for perseverance in the face of any kind of adversity. Perhaps there is honor in some struggles—and Darkness on the Edge of Town shows that. If there’s any takeaway from this album, it’s that there is always a way out.
Photo sourced from Pinterest.