Buried–hidden almost–at the end of an album that primarily serves as a cautionary tale is one of Bruce’s most desperate and unabashedly romantic songs in his entire catalog.

Like much of the Tunnel of Love album from which it hails, “Valentine’s Day” is a solo effort. Bruce plays every instrument we hear from the ambling, primary guitar melody to the layers of keyboard, mandolin, bass, harmonica and percussion.

The result is a carefully crafted song that gradually builds instrumental intensity that to match the lyrical desperation that’s there from the beginning. Take a listen before we dive in:

I’m driving a big lazy car rushin’ up the highway in the dark

At first, it does indeed sound like we’re out for an evening drive–there’s a relaxing, ambling tempo that belies what Bruce sings next:

I got one hand steady on the wheel and one hand’s tremblin’ over my heart
It’s pounding baby like it’s gonna bust right on through
And it ain’t gonna stop till I’m alone again with you

Now that’s how you set a scene.

We’re instantly plunged into the middle of a story. What happened right before we got here to make our protagonist so consumed by adrenaline?

A friend of mine became a father last night
When we spoke in his voice I could hear the light
Of the skies and the rivers, the timberwolf in the pines
And that great jukebox out on Route 39
They say he travels fastest who travels alone
But tonight I miss my girl, mister tonight I miss my home

Aha–we still don’t know where we was, but we do know that his encounter with a new father (in real life, Bruce was inspired by Jon Landau’s recent entry into fatherhood) has shaken him to his core. As any father knows, those first moments with your child are transformative: in a heartbeat, your life has a new purpose, and that first day as a parent–I remember mine well–is more vivid and indelible than any day prior or since.

Our narrator picks up on that by osmosis. His friend is so altered, so heightened, that Bruce hears every indelible detail that is etched into his friend’s heart forevermore. (It’s worth noting that Bruce wrote this song years before he was a parent himself. This song is testament to Bruce’s legendary empathy in his songwriting.) He is shaken, and he is consumed by a primal fear and compulsion to race home to his love and to his home.

He may be racing home, but he isn’t able to outrun his experience. His thoughts–still noticing every sight and sound–are counterpoint to the leisurely pace of the music.

Is it the sound of the leaves left blown by the wayside
That’s got me out here on this spooky old highway tonight
Is it the cry of the river with the moonlight shining through
That ain’t what scares me baby, what scares me is losing you

And there it is: he’s realized that while he doesn’t have a child, he does have someone who fills life with the same color, the same vividness as his friend’s new child, and the power of that tie, that bond, pulls him homeward. And that pull is irresistible.

The final verse in this chorus-less song lays it all bare with a meta-wink from Bruce to his fans:

They say if you die in your dreams, you really die in your bed
But honey last night I dreamed my eyes rolled straight back in my head
And God’s light came shinin’ on through
I woke up in the darkness scared and breathin’ and born anew
It wasn’t the cold river bottom I felt rushing over me
It wasn’t the bitterness of a dream that didn’t come true
It wasn’t the wind in the grey fields I felt rushing through my arms
No no baby, baby it was you

Could it be a coincidence that Bruce pairs imagery of a river with a callback (“the bitterness of a dream that didn’t come true”) to the very song of his that bears its name? I suppose it could be. But I doubt it–the contrast is too powerful to be accidental.

Bruce has come far enough in his life to recognize both the danger and the necessity of love. He’s seen how succumbing to it rashly can chain you in place forever, and he’s seen how accepting it truly can lift you and inspire you to heights you’d never otherwise reach.

I’m absolutely convinced that “Valentine’s Day” is meant to be a counterpoint to “The River,” and my appreciation for both songs is deepened because of it.

In fact, the narrator’s last words, just before the car vanishes off into the horizon, almost make one wonder whether these are in fact the same characters from “The River.”

So hold me close honey, say you’re forever mine
And tell me you’ll be my lonely valentine

Interesting choice of words, there: “my lonely valentine.” Perhaps these aren’t star-crossed lovers. Perhaps they’ve grown distant, their love cooler. But there’s clearly a bond between them, and it’s powerful–a different kind of power than the heat of young love, but a strong pull nonetheless.

It’s something of a mystery why Bruce didn’t play “Valentine’s Day” on the Tunnel of Love tour, or any of the tours that came after. He rehearsed it before the tour, though, and you can hear the only known E Street Band take below. Admirably restrained at first, the horns overpower it as the song progresses, and maybe that’s why Bruce dropped it from the set.

For years, “Valentine’s Day” went unperformed, but then in the summer of 2005, Bruce rediscovered the song and premiered it on his solo acoustic tour.

Performed entirely on the piano (and a harmonica coda), the music matches for the first time the power of the lyrics from start to finish. Bruce’s piano is as persistent and insistent a declaration of love as any lyrics could ever be, and once you hear this arrangement, it instantly becomes the definitive version of this song.

When Bruce performed “Valentine’s Day” in Portland, he received a mid-set standing ovation–it was that powerful.

“Valentine’s Day” has gone missing since that tour, however–it’s been absent now for almost as long as it went unperformed originally. But if the cards hold another acoustic tour in Bruce’s future, I suspect we haven’t heard the last of it.

Valentine’s Day
Recorded:
 early 1987
Released: Tunnel of Love (1987)
First performed: July 23, 2005 (Atlanta, GA)
Last performed: October 21, 2005 (Providence, RI)

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2 Replies to “Roll of the Dice: Valentine’s Day”

  1. I had never heard the piano version of this song! I’m glad you shared this, and it’s also interesting to see your analysis. By the way, looks like we might be “neighbors,” – I’m a Portlander too 🙂

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