Roll of the Dice: Shut Out the Light

Blogger’s Note: It’s impossible to discuss the genesis and evolution of “Shut Out the Light” without referencing the two songs with which it’s inseparably intertwined. Since I’ve already written about both at length, I strongly recommend that if you haven’t already (or recently) read them, take a few minutes to do so now. Start with “Vietnam,” which has essential backstory for truly appreciating “Shut Out the Light.” If you have time, review “Born in the U.S.A.” to understand how that song evolved once Bruce started developing its fraternal twin.

As Bruce wrote “Vietnam,” he gradually realized he had two stories to tell, one external and one internal. The external one dealt with the way American society recognized (or more accurately, failed to recognize) the sacrifices made by its veterans in Vietnam and their mistreatment upon returning home. That song became one of Bruce’s all-time greatest hits: “Born in the U.S.A.”

The internal one dealt with the lasting psychological effects caused by the horror and trauma our veterans experienced in Vietnam. That song served as the B-side to “Born in the U.S.A.,” a paring so perfect that I’m compelled to clarify that I’m speaking literally about Bruce’s 1984 single and not merely metaphorically.

Despite its third-person narration, “Shut Out the Light” takes us deep into the haunted psyche of its protagonist in a way that the first-person “Born in the U.S.A.” never attempts. The two songs are opposites in other ways, too: the A-side rings out a like a clarion call; the B-side is quiet and contemplative. Yet both songs are thematically linked by a common empathy.

Let’s take a listen to the under-recognized and under-appreciated “Shut Out the Light,” one of Bruce Springsteen’s most sensitive songs.

“Shut Out the Light” is very close to a solo Springsteen recording. Recorded at home shortly after the release of Nebraska (Bruce was briefly considering a follow-up solo album before his muse led him elsewhere), Bruce plays all the instruments with the exception of the track’s gorgeous violin overdub, provided by Soozie Tyrell as her debut contribution to Bruce’s catalog.

Although it’s a much quieter song than its better-known A-side, it’s just as powerful, and perhaps even more harrowing. It’s certainly more cinematic, loaded with small details that project a clear scene in our mind’s eye:

The runway rushed up at him as he felt the wheels touch down
He stood out on the blacktop and took a taxi into town
He got out down on Main Street and went into a local bar
He bought a drink and found a seat in a corner in the dark

“Shut Out the Light” is the story of Johnson “Johnny” Lineir (we’ll learn his full name towards the end of the song), and our story begins at the end of another: Johnny has just landed on hometown soil after a tour of duty in Vietnam. (At no point in the song does Bruce actually state this, but context is more than enough for us to arrive at this conclusion.)

The opening verse is lifted almost verbatim from the opening of one of the earliest versions of “Vietnam,” strongly suggesting that both “Shut Out the Light” and “Born in the U.S.A.” began as an exercise in empathy: what must it have been like for a soldier returning from overseas? How do you leave behind everything you witnessed, everything you did, and return to a sense of normalcy. Is it even possible?

(In “Vietnam,” the original verse ends with “…got off down on Main Street to see what I could see… watchin’ a stranger pass by, and that stranger was me.” I’ve always thought that discarded verse was one of the strongest lyrics Bruce ever threw away.)

The approaching runway is a brilliant metaphor to open the song with, both literally setting the scene and creating an immediate sense of foreboding: the runway rushes at Johnny, suggesting he’s not quite ready to re-enter his life.

It’s also important to note the details Bruce doesn’t include: no family or friends are there to greet Johnny when he lands. He is alone, and he remains alone throughout the verse, retreating into a dark corner of a bar rather than engage with anyone.

The action shifts now, and Johnny’s wife (or at least his girlfriend) briefly becomes our point-of-view character.

Well she called up her mama to make sure the kids were out of the house
She checked herself out in the dining room mirror and undid an extra button on her blouse
He felt her lying next to him when the clock said 4 a.m.
He was staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t move his hands

This is a remarkable verse. Bruce accomplishes a lot in four artful lines, so let’s take a moment to admire a songwriter at the peak of his craft.

Our point-of-view character may have shifted for only a mere couplet, but that’s long enough for us to learn that Johnny has a love interest and probably a family. How long must they have been separated, and how much will their separate life experiences continue to divide them? She arranges herself and an empty house for a romantic (and off-camera) reunion, but when all is said and done, even her presence can’t bring him comfort in the dark.

The stillness and darkness take him back to Vietnam. Whatever horrors he witnessed there, he relives each time the lights go out. His trauma is so intense that he’s frozen in terror.

The magic of this verse is in the way Bruce conveys so much inner emotion–both hers and his–through the use of observational detail.  Never once does Bruce tell us what’s going on in his characters’ heads. He doesn’t have to, because he’s given us all the clues we need to figure it out for ourselves.

In the chorus–which never varies throughout the song–Johnny reverts to a small, frightened boy, calling to his mother for protection and comfort, pleading for the lights to remain on.

Oh Mama, Mama, Mama, come quick
I’ve got the shakes and I’m gonna be sick
Throw your arms around me in the cold dark night
Hey now, Mama, don’t shut out the light
Don’t you shut out the light, don’t you shut out the light
Don’t you shut out the light, don’t you shut out the light

In the remaining verse, Johnny attempts to restart his life, and during the day, at least, things seem hopeful.

Well on his porch they stretched a banner that said “Johnny, Welcome Home”
Bobby pulled his Ford out of the garage and they polished up the chrome
His mama said, “Johnny, oh Johnny, I’m so glad to have you back with me”
His pa said he was sure they’d give him his job back down at the factory

There are at least two things worth noting in this verse. The first is the second line, which Bruce will recycle more than two decades later in  “Gypsy Biker,”  which itself bears quite a bit of thematic resemblance to “Shut Out the Light.”

The second is Johnny’s pa’s optimism. Because “Shut Out the Light” was paired with “Born in the U.S.A.” we pretty much know from the A-side’s similar line that his pa’s prediction is more naivete than optimism, but I somehow suspect we’d realize that even if we’d listened to the B-side first.

If you noticed at this point that Bruce breaks the verse-verse-chorus pattern that he established at the beginning of the song with a simple verse-chorus pattern hereafter, well done. Bruce actually did record the entire song in verse-verse-chorus, but presumably for time (and perhaps for content), he edited out verses four and six from the final version. It’s disappointing, though, because the verse that Bruce excised at this point makes it painfully clear how much Johnny is suffering. Johnny resorts to drugs at night to keep the pain away:

Now every evening, well just after supper time
He’d go into the back bedroom and he’d lock the door behind
He’d lie with a telephone wire stretched out across a chair
Just him and a few bad habits he’d brought back from over there 

(Here’s the unreleased version–with extra verses but without Soozie–if you’re curious to compare.)

We’re not certain whether the final verse is dream or reality…

Well deep in a dark forest, a forest filled with rain
Beyond a stretch of Maryland pines, there’s a river without a name
In the cold black water now Johnson Lineir stands
He stares across the lights of the city and dreams of where he’s been

…but the message itself is clear: Johnny feels far removed from home, and in the darkness of his dreams, he hasn’t left Vietnam.  In the original studio recording, there’s another verse that Bruce excised for the final version. In it, the stars try to penetrate the darkness only to be engulfed and extinguished by the void–surely a metaphor for the inability of Johnny’s family and friends to rescue him from the dark emptiness he feels inside.

As the grey moon disappears beyond that town hillside
Stars rise, grow brighter then gone, gone, gone in a black and endless sky
Like the others before him he’d gone and done his best
Now he watches the water of that nameless river rise above his chest

Is that final line metaphorical or literal? Is Johnny struggling to stave off his dread or is he considering surrendering himself to a fatal current? Either way, had Bruce chosen to end the song with those lines, “Shut Out the Light” would be even more unsettling than it already is.

As it stands, we take our leave from Johnny on the river bank rather than in the current, caught between light and darkness and pleading for the light to stay on.

“Shut Out the Light” is a definite rarity in concert, performed by Bruce only 35 times across his career, and only once since 1996.

Bruce debuted “Shut Out the Light” relatively early on the Born in the U.S.A. Tour, in late October, just as it was being introduced to fans worldwide on the B-side to “Born in the U.S.A.”  He performed it almost two dozen times that tour, giving fans in North America, Australia, and Europe a chance to hear his new song.

The clip below is the last of these performances, from Paris on June 29, 1985.

It would be more than a decade before anyone would hear Bruce play “Shut Out the Light” again, but on Bruce’s Ghost of Tom Joad Tour, he brought it back for eleven performances.

Here’s one of my favorites, from Bruce’s three-night stand at the Paramount Theater in Asbury Park in November 1996. This performance is notable for two reasons. First, it’s the first live performance of “Shut Out the Light” to feature Soozie Tyrell, who reprises her violin contribution from the studio recording. (We can also hear Patti Scialfa providing backing vocals and Danny Federici on accordion.)

But if you listen carefully to the last verse, you’ll hear something else that’s significant: for the first time, Bruce explicitly acknowledges the source of Johnny’s trauma, changing the last line from “dreams of where he’s been” to “dreams of Vietnam.”

There’s only been one live performance of “Shut Out the Light” since 1996, and it’s from Bruce’s other solo acoustic tour.

Here’s Bruce’s last performance of “Shut Out the Light” to date, a somber pump organ arrangement that opened his show in Milwaukee on August 7, 2005.

Shut Out the Light
Recorded: January 19, 1983
Released: Tracks (1998) (and as the B-side to “Born in the U.S.A.” in 1984)
First performed: October 22, 1984 (Oakland, CA)
Last performed: August 7, 2005 (Milwaukee, WI)

Looking for your favorite Bruce song? Check our full index. New entries every week!