Bleak House

I lived in a duplex in the summer of 1987. I was on summer break from college, and (in a dedicated move of independence) I didn't want to move back in with my parents. So, I got my own place.

I was working two jobs and often arriving home close to midnight. And even though in the eyes of any observer I was living alone, there was another presence in the place. Bruce Springsteen was my de facto roommate, waiting patiently whenever my day was done. My little 9-inch black-and-white TV only picked up one local station, since I didn't have cable. So, my entertainment came from the old jambox, and I was a devout listener to the tales told by The Boss.

I had a cassette tape of Nebraska. And I played that thing ragged. The fad that Born in the U.S.A. had become was still lingering in the nation's collective mind. But, for me, it was all about Nebraska. It felt like I had unlocked an old trunk in the attic and found a treasure that no one knew about.

In that musty old duplex, late at night, I was baptized in the bleakness of the Nebraska tracks, austere and unforgiving. I'd wake in the middle of the night and shuffle around vacant rooms and darkened hallway. The wooden floors creaked, and there was no furniture other than my twin bed and the sleeper sofa in the living room left by a previous tenant.

That time, that summer -- it was very transitory.

And now Springsteen is back with a CD (The Promise) commemorating the recording of Darkness on the Edge of Town. This new album includes more than 20 unreleased tracks recorded during those 1970’s sessions for Darkness.