Bruce captured “Spare Parts” on the second take of the very first day of recording for the album that would become Tunnel of Love. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.
And that’s as apt a metaphor as any for a song that’s otherwise devoid of it.
“Spare Parts” is brutally frank and unflinchingly honest. It’s also redemptive and empowering.
Despite its biblical imagery, “Spare Parts” is ultimately a song about taking control of your own life, rather than placing your trust in the plan of a higher power.
Let’s take a listen.
Before we delve into the lyrics, it’s interesting to take note of the backing track. Bruce actually recorded “Spare Parts” as a solo acoustic track in his home studio on January 20, 1987, and what you just listened to above is that same recording–at its core. Over the months that followed, Bruce invited Garry, Max, and Danny–separately–to his home to add their contributions.
And that harmonica you hear is (shockingly) not Bruce. It’s Jimmie Wood from the Imperial Crowns, who was part of a country trio that Bruce briefly assembled that year in an attempt to find an arrangement for his new material. Bruce obviously abandoned the trio (it would be fascinating to hear what they came up with, though), but he kept Jimmie’s contribution, grafting it into the mix along with the contributions from Danny, Garry and Max.
So it’s not much of a stretch to say that “Spare Parts” is comprised of… well, spare parts.
Here’s an actual full-band performance (with everyone in the same room) from the Tunnel of Love Express Tour. It’s actually the official video for the song. (“Spare Parts” was actually the fourth single released from the Tunnel of Love album, although strangely not in the U.S. It didn’t set the world on fire, but it peaked as high as #16 in Sweden.) Bruce’s introductory comments give us a good lens through which to view the lyrics that follow.
By 1988, Bruce had learned the risk of having his material misinterpreted. (See “Born in the U.S.A.“)
Perhaps that’s why he took the time almost every night on the Tunnel of Love Express Tour to introduce “Spare Parts” and explain it.
It’s actually a strange decision, if you think about it: arguably, “Spare Parts” is one of the most straightforward songs Bruce has ever written. There’s no hidden meaning, no cryptic references, not a single metaphor. The language is plain spoken and blunt.
But maybe that’s the problem: we’re so used to hearing Bruce craft his songs with layered melodies and thoughtful metaphor that “Spare Parts” hits us like the assault that arguably takes place in its first line. And the characters are either so despairing (Janey) or shameful (Bobby) that if you don’t make the effort to really listen to the song, you might miss the fact that it’s ultimately a tale of female empowerment. Bruce wasn’t about to take the chance.
Bobby said he’d pull out, Bobby stayed in
Janey had a baby wasn’t any sin
They were set to marry on a summer day
Bobby got scared and he ran away
That, dear reader, is a master class in setting up a song. Bruce has just told us that this is a story about Janey, a single mother, but not by choice. She placed her trust in the wrong man, because Bobby not only betrayed her in the heat of the moment, he broke his life promise to her as well, leaving town and leaving Janey behind.
Bruce established all that in thirty words. Try doing that in prose, let alone in meter.
There’s another key piece of information in that verse as well: Bruce takes pains to point out that Janey having the baby wasn’t considered (at least by her) to be a sin. He didn’t do that for the sake of rhyme; nor is it to establish Janey as a victim. Bruce is doing two other things with that one short phrase: 1) he’s subtly introducing a biblical term, setting up the expectation that the story will have a religious climax (it won’t, but Bruce will fake us out before we realize it), and 2) he’s immediately establishing and telegraphing Janey’s strength of character. She’s having a child out of wedlock, and back then (and even now) in certain parts that would be looked down upon. But Janey refuses to accept the notion that she’s done anything wrong, and we’ll see that inner strength carry her even through times of self-doubt.
Jane moved in with her ma out on Shawnee Lake
She sighed, “Ma, sometimes my whole life feels like one big mistake”
She settled in in a back room, time passed on
Later that winter a son came along
In this verse, Bruce establishes the life-altering consequences of that one act. And again, there are a couple of subtle but important pieces of information being conveyed: 1) the timeline is coming into view–Bobby ran away before his son was born. Does he even know? and 2) by feeling like her life was one big mistake, Janey tells us something about her character: she’s someone who holds herself accountable for her decisions. Bobby may own the betrayal, but it was Janey’s judgment that led her to trust him to begin with. That’s important insight.
With all of that setup leading us into the chorus, it’s surprising when we realize the entire chorus is just a single line:
Spare parts and broken hearts keep the world turning around
There are at least two possible meanings here as well: “spare parts” can be almost literal–if Janey doesn’t live in poverty, she’s at least close to it and relying on spare parts to keep the elements of her life in working order. But there may also be a more oblique reference in play, with Janey’s son perhaps cast in the titular role. There’s also a third and probably most intended interpretation, but Bruce slyly waits until the end of the song before giving us the information we need to realize it.
Regardless, the implication is clear: the best laid schemes gang aft agley.
Now Janey walked that baby across the floor night after night
But she was a young girl and she missed the party lights
Meanwhile in South Texas in a dirty oil patch
Bobby heard ’bout his son being born and swore he wasn’t ever going back
Well, now we know the measure of Bobby. And now we also know the price that Janey is paying on her own: she’s forfeited her youth to take care of her son, and Bobby’s. The difference in their characters couldn’t be more starkly drawn.
We’re now two-thirds of the way through the song, and only now are we through the exposition. And this is where Bruce’s curve ball comes:
Janey heard about a woman over in Calverton
Put her baby in the river, let the river roll on
She looked at her boy in the crib where he lay
Got down on her knees cried till she prayed
Janey is sorely tempted. She’s heard about a woman who killed her own baby. Presumably, at least, which is why the thought is so seductive: maybe the baby would be rescued downstream, found and adopted by a loving family. Who knows? She wouldn’t, and that’s the key–she could take refuge in the uncertainty, even though she knows darn well the likely outcome.
And still, she’s tempted. How unwanted her role is, let alone her child. And that “wasn’t any sin” reference in the first verse–now we know what Bruce was setting us up for. Having the baby wasn’t the sin, but discarding it certainly would be. And she’s torn, so torn… Bruce tells us that she “cried till she prayed,” and that’s a significant turn of phrase. Janey is asking God for a sign, some kind of divine intervention. But it never comes.
Mist was on the water, low run the tide
Janey held her son down at the riverside
Waist deep in the water how bright the sun shone
She lifted him in her arms and carried him home
If there’s a criticism to be laid at Bruce’s feet regarding “Spare Parts,” it’s that the song barrels along so fast that we don’t have a chance to pause and experience the dilemma that Janey must have been shouldering at that moment.
But there she is, down by the riverside. This is no idle notion–she’s brought her baby down to the water and waded into it waist deep. She’s clearly seriously considering setting him adrift. And yet… the moment passes. Bruce makes no mention of why Janey changes her mind. The only clue we’re given–the only detail–is the brightness of the sun. Does she take that as an omen? A reminder? Or is it simply Janey’s strong moral core that dissuades her? We don’t know. We only know that she doesn’t go through with it.
The key thing is what doesn’t happen. God doesn’t intervene. There’s no epiphany. Janey’s faith doesn’t serve her one bit. Even standing waste deep in the water with her child in a scene straight out of a baptism, there’s just silence. She cried til she prayed but ultimately she had to provide her own salvation. And that’s the seditious power of “Spare Parts” — it’s a song about seeking answers from within not from without, about disregarding the notions of society and religion and trusting your own inner compass.
But that’s still not the true climax of the song. What the song is really about is what comes next:
As he lay sleeping in her bed Janey took a look around at everything
Went to a drawer in her bureau and got out her old engagement ring
Took out her wedding dress tied that ring up in its sash
Went straight down to the pawn shop man and walked out with some good cold cash
Janey takes “a look around at everything.” Not just at what’s in her small room, but at her life, and what she’s made of it. And she digs up the two physical, material artifacts of her old, would-have-been, should-have-been life, and that’s what she chooses to discard. And now, finally, we truly understand the chorus of the song.
She keeps the baby, discards the symbols of false promises, and takes control of her life. Armed with “good cold cash” from the sale of her spare parts, she moves forward toward a future of her own making.
After all:
Spare parts and broken hearts keep the world turning around
—
In concert, Bruce has performed “Spare Parts” only, um, sparingly.
Actually, that’s not quite true: it was a mainstay of the Tunnel of Love Express Tour when it debuted back in 1988. If you’ve watched the official video above, you’ve experienced that powerful arrangement. To my mind, however, it’s almost too powerful. The full band arrangement–complete with horns–only magnifies my issue with the album arrangement: at heart, the song is about an internal dilemma, a quiet test of faith and duty and of right and wrong. The action takes place in solitude and stillness, and it’s easy to overlook the power of the song when you’re being overwhelmed by the power of the band.
In the years since Tunnel of Love, Bruce has only performed “Spare Parts” on two tours–and both were acoustic. That suggests to me that Bruce understands that the song is more powerful and more effective when it’s quiet.
On the Ghost of Tom Joad Tour, Bruce swung the pendulum hard: his arrangement of “Spare Parts” is dark, pensive, and at times almost spoken-word. It’s as if Bruce wants to make absolutely sure the song is understood. Listen to one of those performances below.
On the Devils & Dust Tour a decade later, however, Bruce figured out how to marry his more reflective acoustic version with the original rocker arrangement, and the hybrid result (to my mind) nailed it.
In the years since Devils & Dust, “Spare Parts” has been completely absent from Bruce’s setlists. But we haven’t had a solo tour in that time either. Bruce is about due to do one, and perhaps we’ll see “Spare Parts” return when he does.
Spare Parts
Recorded: January 20, 1987
Released: Tunnel of Love (1988)
First performed: February 25, 1988 (Worcester, MA)
Last performed: November 21, 2005 (Trenton, NJ)
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Ken. Ken. Ken.
🙏