It was the summer of 1974, and Bruce Springsteen was in the shit.
Sure, the now 23-year-old had been signed to the legendary Columbia Records label a couple of years earlier. And signed by the legendary producer/record exec John Hammond who also brought Benny Goodman, Billie Holiday, Aretha Franklin and Bob Dylan to the family.
And yeah, his debut record Greetings from Asbury Park, N.Y. was greeted with critical hosannas, leading to the cursed/dreaded “New Dylan” tag. Follow-up The Wild, The Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle also garnered praise. But both had sold bupkis. And with his champion, label honcho Clive Davis having been fired, suddenly Bruce Springsteen’s contract and career were on the chopping block.
It was clearly make-or-break time with his third effort—one the label was even hesitant to fund at all. What he needed was a hit. And not something like the overly wordy, hurdy-gurdy, musically adventurous tunes on those first two albums.
A bona fide rock and roll hit. Something that could be played on the radio. Something that he might have heard on the radio during his growin’ up years of the 1960s. Something like a big, bombastic, Phil Spector-type production. Something that got across the energy, swagger, and loudness of his live shows that so far hadn’t translated to vinyl.
Well, when that record came out the next year, it not only saved the career of Bruce Springsteen, but sent it into the stratosphere. And it’s what a good chunk of his fanbase points to as the pinnacle of his studio releases. It was Born to Run, and it turns 50 years old this month.
Longtime music journalist Peter Ames Carlin is no stranger to the Bruce Beat, having written (with the participation of the subject himself), the 2012 bio Bruce. Here—also with Springsteen’s involvement—Carlin narrows his focus with Tonight in Jungleland: The Making of Born to Run ($30, 256 pp., Doubleday).
It’s amazing in hindsight, given the album’s iconic status, but Carlin really digs into the seat-of-their-pants recording sessions. Lyrics changed. So did tempos and entire sections of instruments. Friend and soon-to-be E Streeter Little Steven Van Zandt came in to put some oomph to the horns. The sound got bigger and bigger.
And Springsteen’s manager Mike Appel, all zealotry, proselytizing, aggression and chutzpah, talked it up to anyone who wanted to listen. No one could question Appel’s dedication to breaking his skinny, bearded, lost client. At one point, Appel raided every center of his own childrens’ college savings accounts to keep the band afloat.
One thing that Carlin delves into is how important regional and collegiate DJs and music writers were in helping to propel Springsteen’s nascent career (and indeed, break an artist). On radio, it was a time where the disc jockeys could play what they want, when they wanted.
In print, music writer Jon Landau’s deathless live earlier review recap “I saw Rock and Roll Future and its name is Bruce Springsteen” is one of the most famous lines of music journalism.
But Carlin also credits college student James Segelstein, who relayed his hugely enthusiastic accolades about Springsteen to his father after witnessing a live show (James had heard the albums, but been nonplussed). That James’ father, Irwin, also happened to be the new President at Columbia Records went more than a little way in removing Bruce from the “about to be axed” category.
As Carlin details the actual recording sessions, he seems to use both new and archival interviews of those involved, as well as transcripts of the session tapes. Of the new interviews, Carlin spoke with Bruce himself at length in front of a roaring fire on his 75th birthday last year, as he notes throughout.
In the end, Born to Run clocks in at just under 40 minutes and has only eight tracks. But what an eight they are: “Thunder Road,” “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out,” “Night,” “Backstreets,” “Born to Run,” “She’s the One,” “Meeting Across the River,” and “Jungleland.” When Springsteen and E Street last played Houston on Valentine’s Day, 2023, six of those eight make it into the setlist. The other two (“Jungleland,” “Meeting Across the River”) likely left out only due to their length and slower tempos.
In this book, the songs are dissected musically, lyrically, and thematically. And the band butts up right against the drop-dead record company deadline to turn in the finished record in July 1975. Then, it was out of Bruce’s tortured and wrung hands.
And tortured he was still. The record company execs, the band, Mike Appel and Jon Landau (soon to supplant Appel as Bruce’s manager), and engineer Jimmy Iovine all hailed it.
But Bruce? After hearing an acetate play at a stereo store he took it, walked to the hotel they were staying at, and threw it in the pool. Thank God, Iovine thought, they could make another one. Good thing. By October, Bruce Springsteen was on the covers of booth Time and Newsweek. Not just on the same week, but the same day.
Sure, there was some backlash about the “hype.” But critics were soon silenced by the sheer force of the record on the turntable and the man and his band on the stage. Bruce Springsteen was now a rock superstar.
Though he himself was turned off by the sudden attention. Upon arriving for some shows in London and seeing exclamatory banners, posters and signs touting him as the Second Coming of Rock and Roll, Springsteen began to systematically rip down every one he saw.
Tonight in Jungleland is not the only media to cover the creation and impact of Born to Run. There’s the Thom Zimny directed/Springsteen overseen doc Wings for Wheels as well as Louis P. Masur’s 2009 book Runaway Dream: Born to Run and Bruce Springsteen’s American Vision.
But what Carlin does here is more than just music journalism. He creates a story, a mood, and triumphs and challenges for its main and supporting characters, almost novelistic in its approach and analysis. So even if you’ve already spent hundreds of hours with Wendy, Mary, the Magic Rat, Barefoot Girl, Scooter and the Big Man, Terry, and the Duke Street Kings, Tonight in Jungleland is worth another ride out on Highway 9.
