American Made: The Portrayal of Americana and Disillusionment in Bruce Springsteen’s Discography

It’s easy to call Bruce Springsteen a proper countryman, an artist who seems ever so happy to pledge allegiance to the grand old U.S. of A. However, to call Springsteen a humble patriot would be dismissive at best and downright libel at worst. Several wars have started, ended, and passed since the release of some of these songs, and yet, decade after decade, Springsteen’s lyricism continues to succinctly describe American attitudes and realities.

Written by Trisha Dasgupta

 

Image courtesy of Columbia Records

 

A denim-clad rockstar stands in front of beloved red, white, and blue stripes on the cover of his iconic seventh studio album. Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA bursts with deceivingly patriotic themes. To no surprise, the album quickly cemented itself as a staple of western ’80s rock, heralded as a proud, American-made record.

Springsteen, often given the title of Patriotic Countryman, is actually not nearly as subservient to American propaganda as most seem to think. Much of the New Jersey singer-songwriter’s discography drips with anti-war and anti-capitalist themes in the vein of Bob Dylan and Patti Smith. Despite this, larger audiences remain blatantly ignorant of the meaning behind his seemingly saccharine love letters to Americana. 

To ignore the musician’s portrayal of working-class attitudes and critiques of western capitalism means ignoring his very ethos. Springsteen’s first foray into political commentary dates back to his fourth studio album, Darkness on the Edge of Town, released in 1978. On this album, Springsteen pulls back the curtain on harsh realities suburbia faced in the late 70s, conjuring images of endless days in flailing post-industrial hometown economies. On track seven, “Factory,” the rock’n’roll legend comes across as somber, almost in mourning as he describes the cyclical nature of capitalism: “Men walk through these gates with death in their eyes / it’s the working, the working, just the working life.” 

Much of his early ’80s releases peppered with anti-capitalist and anti-war imagery, the artist never lets go of these themes — a slow but steady lead-up to two quintessential albums regarding Springsteen’s portrayal of the American dream: Nebraska and Born in the U.S.A. Released in 1982 and 1984 respectively, these two albums hold the mantle of essential American albums, despite Born in the U.S.A. being so often misinterpreted. Nebraska, solemn and brooding, paints a nearly dystopian picture of the early ’80s in the states that was filled with despair and hopelessness. With references to the infamous killing of The Chicken Man (Philadelphia gangster Philip Testato) and rising crime in his home state of New Jersey, the artist’s lyrics hold a rough but unrelenting space in songs like “Atlantic City” where he sings, “Now there's trouble busing in from out of state / And the D.A. can get no relief.” Here, Springsteen’s at his darkest and sings the blues for a country apathetic to the struggles of its own citizens.

Shortly after Nebraska, came the ever-iconic Born in the U.S.A. Maintaining the same story of rotting faith in American patriotism, although slightly more hopeful, the album sets itself to a lively and more modern sounds which define the rockstar’s seventh body of work. Although deceivingly named and celebrated as an ode to the nation, the title track cries in opposition to the Vietnam War, vicious in its critique of the U.S.’s systemic disregard for veterans.

Springsteen weaves political imagery and themes of disillusionment throughout the album, coming to a crux with the final track. In “My Hometown,” Springsteen sings about racial tensions in the ’60s and layoffs in the ’70s, gesturing to the remnants of the town he grew up in. A jarring song with haunting vocals, the singer repeatedly belts in disbelief, “This is my hometown”, coming to terms with the state of his country. 

There’s a brilliance in the juxtaposition of the dark, gritty, and stripped-down Nebraska compared to the upbeat, stereo-blasting synth-rock of Born in the U.S.A. While Nebraska remains a tough pill to swallow, Born in the U.S.A hides the medicine behind stars and stripes. It’s a powerful rhetorical choice on Springsteen’s behalf that resulted in a potent depiction of the American experience: red-blooded patriots waving flags, unaware of the fact that they dance to the tales of the suffering faced by their fellow countrymen. 

Springsteen is undoubtedly a hallmark of American music, but his status in the culture is far more nuanced than how it appears at the surface. It would be dismissive to the artist to ignore his messaging, in which he consistently subverts patriotic imagery in order to highlight the distance between the western ideal and the western reality. 

Past the ’80s, through the ’90s, and into the early 2000s, Springsteen continued using music to comment on the circumstances of the nation. 2005’s Devils & Dust,  released nearly 30 years after “Darkness on the Edge of Town,” comes in as another anti-war album — this time denouncing the 2003 U.S.invasion of Iraq. 

His prolific career spanning the last five decades captures the political atmosphere of the U.S. as it shifted and evolved. Yet, decade after decade, Springsteen’s lyricism persists in demystifying the American Dream and holding a mirror to the reality of the American experience.