Roll of the Dice: Bobby Jean

If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you might have picked up on my penchant for viewing one of Bruce’s songs through the lens of another.

That’s partly because Bruce recycles character names, inviting comparison; in part because Bruce cross-pollinates lyrics between songs, sometimes over years or decades; and partly because Bruce tends to write about certain themes frequently, and it’s fascinating to trace the maturing of his writing each time he does so.

For me, “Bobby Jean” falls into that last bucket, and the song it begs the closes comparison to is another classic: “Backstreets.”

Both songs are odes to “broken friendship” (as Bruce phrased it in his autobiography), but where the 1975 “Backstreets” seethes with betrayal and writhes in pain, the 1984 “Bobby Jean” is wistful, nostalgic, and brimming with love. Perhaps both were conscious choices, but I suspect they can at least in part be chalked up to the difference between the songs one writes at the age of 25 and the songs one writes at 34.

In our early twenties, many of us still cling to our closest formative relationships. Life hasn’t carried us on our separate journeys yet–we haven’t married, had kids, built careers. By the time we’re in our mid-thirties, however, we’ve begun drifting apart, forming different and sometimes tighter connections in our new communities. It doesn’t mean we don’t miss the ones we don’t see and talk to anymore–but we’ve grown to accept that out of sight doesn’t necessarily mean out of mind.

Enter “Bobby Jean.” Exit Steve Van Zandt.

Bruce has never confirmed or even commented on whether “Bobby Jean” is about Steve, but he doesn’t really need to. It’s enough to know that Steve left around the time Bruce wrote and recorded “Bobby Jean,” that Bruce and Steve were and are lifelong boon companions, and that Bruce’s dedication to Steve in the liner notes of Born in the U.S.A. were written in the same selfless spirit of “Bobby Jean:” buon viaggio, mio fratello.  That’s all the insight we need into the song.

Well I came by your house the other day, your mother said you went away
She said there was nothing that I could have done, there was nothing nobody could say
Now me and you we’ve known each other ever since we were sixteen
I wished I would have known, I wished I could have called you
Just to say goodbye, Bobby Jean

The only real mystery in the song (to me, at least) is in that first verse. If Bobby and Bruce were such close friends, how the heck did Bruce not know that Bobby was moving away? What happened to Bobby Jean that made him/her (let’s go with “him” to avoid awkward circumlocution, but let’s also note that “Backstreets” features a gender-ambiguous central figure as well) pack up and leave so suddenly without even calling his best friend? I feel like there’s another whole song here that we never get to hear. These are the things I obsess over for decades.

Anyway, it sure sounds like were in “Backstreets” territory at this point–you can read the pain in Bruce’s lyrics and hear it in his vocals.

The next verse is an ode to “me and you against the world” friendship that sounds like it was lifted directly from “Backstreets.”

Now you hung with me when all the others turned away, turned up their nose
We liked the same music, we liked the same bands, we liked the same clothes
Yeah we told each other that we were the wildest, the wildest things we’d ever seen
Now I wished you would have told me, I wished I could have talked to you
Just to say goodbye, Bobby Jean

Now we went walking in the rain talking about the pain from the world we hid
Now there ain’t nobody, nowhere nohow gonna ever understand me the way you did

But “Bobby Jean” comes into its own in its final verse, as Bruce drops character and telegraphs as clearly as possible the personal, autobiographical nature of the song:

Well maybe you’ll be out there on that road somewhere, in some bus or train travelling along
In some motel room there’ll be a radio playing and you’ll hear me sing this song
Well if you do, you’ll know I’m thinking of you and all the miles in between
And I’m just calling one last time–not to change your mind, but just to say I miss you, baby
Good luck, goodbye, Bobby Jean

It’s no accident that the narrator is a popular recording artist whose work is likely to appear on the radio, and that’s why I’ve broken my personal rule about separating singer from narrator.

Those last lines are powerful–I tear up every time I read them, let alone hear them–and I wonder if they would have had the same effect if I had never heard of “Backstreets” prior to hearing “Bobby Jean.”

You’ll notice I’m focusing on the lyrics throughout this piece. They’re a lot easier to wax poetic about than the music. Unfortunately, “Bobby Jean” is very much a product of its era, and it’s difficult for me to listen to the studio version without cringing at all the synth.

And can we talk about that sax solo for a minute? In much the same way that Clarence’s sax solo says more in “Drive All Night” than Bruce’s lyrics ever could, Clarence’s final solo–that final note–says it all in “Bobby Jean.” So what possessed Bruce to fade the song before Clarence even sounds it? That’s borderline unforgivable, and it’s why when I listen to “Bobby Jean,” I’ll always opt for a live version over the studio version.

Luckily, there are a ton to choose from, starting with its very first live performance, from St. Paul in 1984 (which extends Clarence’s solo too long–almost a false ending):

…or this Tunnel of Love-era performance, with Clarence at the height of his powers:

Bruce has performed the song acoustically as well, but it never packs quite the same emotional power.

He also gave it the Seeger Sessions treatment on the Bruce Springsteen with the Sessions Band PBS Exclusive EP, but again it lacked the nostalgic sentiment of the original arrangement. Here’s a clip of the new arrangement:

“Bobby Jean” is simply one of those songs born perfect. Played in its original arrangement (but with less synth), it’s a powerful encore statement of eternal friendship and community that will probably never leave Bruce’s setlist for long. It’s one of the few songs that has never missed a tour since its debut.

Bobby Jean
Recorded: January 1982-February 1984
Released: Born in the U.S.A. (1984), Bruce Springsteen with the Sessions Band PBS Exclusive (2007)
First performed: June 29, 1984 (St. Paul, MN)
Last performed: July 25, 2023 (Monza, Italy)

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