Last month, we took a look at Bruce’s unreleased Nebraska-era home demo, “Vietnam.”
“Vietnam” was the grandfather of both “Born in the U.S.A.” and “Shut Out the Light,” but by the end of that essay, it was pretty clear which path Bruce was going to follow first.
“Born in the U.S.A.” would become one of Bruce’s best-known songs, and even the songwriter ranks it near the very top of his catalog. But it’s also one of Bruce’s most misunderstood songs–or perhaps more accurately, one of his most malleable songs.
“Born in the U.S.A.” is a song that seems to adapt to the arrangement, the context, and the moment in which it is sung, and if it seems in turns angry, celebratory, proud, ashamed, defiant and resigned… well, perhaps that’s by design. After all, it took Bruce himself a long time to figure out what he was trying to say–and there’s no better way to illustrate that than by tracing the evolution of the song.
So let’s pick our story up where we left off, with the melody of “Vietnam” paired with prequel lyrics to “Born in the U.S.A.”–and the first appearance of what would eventually become an iconic chorus.
Bruce continued working on the song throughout the remainder of 1981, and the three takes in the combined clip below show his remarkable craft at work. Let’s eavesdrop as Bruce inches his way toward his vision. In this next version, we have a new but familiar melody. For the first time, we can hear the final song taking shape:
Bruce’s lyrics have progressed significantly, although the chorus sounds just a bit too jingoistic for the tone Bruce is trying to strike.
Got in a little hometown jam
So the law put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to kill the yellow man
Born baby in the U.S.A.
I believe in the American Way
The second take features a slower tempo, expanded lyrics, and the first appearance of the “long gone daddy” refrain:
Got in a little hometown jam
so the law put a rifle in my hand
sent me off to kill the yellow man
??? rock and roll band
Born in the U.SA., Born in the U.S.A.
I’m a long gone daddy in the U.S.A.
(“I’m a long gone daddy” is a reference to the Hank Williams song by the same name, in which the singer leaves home and a dysfunctional relationship. With a famous chorus of “I’m leaving now, I’m leaving now, I’m a long gone daddy, I don’t need you anyhow,” Bruce uses the reference here as shorthand for his character’s determination to escape his lot in life. And of course, it works out about as well as we suspect it did for Hank Williams’ character.)
The song continues with a fascinating verse that gives the singer’s returning friend a voice–albeit a bitter one.
My buddy, he come back from Vietnam
He said nobody remembers who i am
People sure forget real fast man
I don’t give a damn
Assembly line to the front lines
Take you directly toward Saigon
Born in the U.S.A.
You better know what’s going on
The song returns to familiar territory now, with almost-final lyrics–except for a heart-breaking final line.
Had a buddy over in Khe Sahn
Fighting off them Viet Cong
They’re still there but he’s all gone
He had a little girl in Saigon
Sent me a picture of him in her arms
Said he’d bring her back
But I don’t know where she’s gone.
The last take in the clip above is fascinating. Bruce switches the perspective and writes from the first person now. This time it’s him who was in Khe Sahn and who had the girl in Saigon. It’s a subtle change that shows how Bruce was still experimenting to find the right nuance for the song.
Bruce continues, bringing back the pivotal scene and wrenching chorus from “Vietnam” and turning it into a pair of verses that starkly illustrate the young man’s plight.
I was digging dirt and I was eating the sand
Came back to see the VA man
He had some papers there in his hands
That said I died there in Vietnam
Assembly line to the front lines
Back home to the unemployment row
Detroit straight to Saigon
Man this whole world sure is cold
That “I died there in Vietnam” line works just as well here as in “Vietnam” — on two levels at once: irony (“we heard you died over there”) and metaphor (“the person we knew died in the war; the person who came back is a stranger”).
There’s one final verse here, and it almost sounds like an afterthought. It’s powerful, but it’s a step too far from the personal toward the political:
I wonder where them Cambodians gone
When them bombs started falling like rain
I don’t care what they say
They wasn’t bombing the white man that way
You’d think that Bruce would instinctively realize he was venturing from the narrative. Instead, in the next take, he doubles down:
Yes, you heard those lyrics right:
Richard Nixon’s on the lam
After dropping bombs on the yellow man
I don’t care what shit they say
They wouldn’t bomb a white man that way
Not a day in prison did he spend
They should have cut off his balls and let them twist in the wind
Thankfully, those lyrics soon vanish. But the verse that follows is instantly recognizable–it’s very close to what will eventually become the song’s opening verse:
Born down in a dead man’s town
Where they kick you when you hit the ground
What you got ain’t enough
You spend half your time just coverin’ up
There’s also a final verse that’s hard to make out, and that’s too bad–because the opening couplet is terrific and would have served the song well:
They planted an American flag
on a cake that said “welcome home”
??? in a different house
but it’s forever gone.
In Bruce’s next take, the classic introduction is now completely in place. In fact, the entire song is now very close to final–other than the masterful yet economical verse with the VA man (which Bruce is still struggling to find the right place for) and the still-missing “ten years burning down the road” closing, the song is essentially complete.
Finally, in this last version, we hear a much more comfortable and confident Bruce. He clearly feels that he’s close to completion, and indeed the final lyrics are all present.
But we also have the return of the backstory verses from “Vietnam” along with some harrowing, you-are-there imagery that’s powerful enough to overpower the pain and neglect that await him upon his return home:
Son, behind that line of trees, something’s waiting in the jungle rain
there deep in the dark forest, there’s a river without a name
Go crawl up there on your knees, go crawlin’ quiet, boy, as you can
Lieutenant sir, if you please, I wanna see my baby again
Bruce would shortly and wisely drop those lyrics.
The next version of “Born in the U.S.A.” is the one Bruce eventually released on Tracks. It’s tighter now, with an eerie echo and anguished howls that makes the singer seem even more isolated and alone than on the rock version–enough to raise goosebumps if you listen to it in a dark room.
There’s also the first hint of an electrified “Born in the U.S.A.” near the end of the clip above. Indeed, Bruce seems to have intended “Born in the U.S.A.” to be a rocker from the beginning (although Max Weinberg recalls recording a country version somewhere along the way). Bruce sent the above version of the song to his manager, dismissing it as “a little ditty” that should be done “very hard rockin’.”
As powerful as the acoustic version is, it’s hard to argue with Bruce. In late April 1982, Bruce assembled the E Street Band to take a crack at the song, and their eight-minute(!) unreleased take (only their second, and the one that would form the basis for the final version) immediately proves Bruce’s point. Roy’s synthesizer riff is a clarion call for the veteran’s countrymen to wake up and see him, and Bruce’s rock vocals convey the perfect mix of anger, anguish, loss, and betrayal.
Bruce and the boys would finally nail the song just a few days later, on May 3, 1982, with a much shorter jam but with Max’s famous-ever-after lightning-in-a-bottle drum solo that just barely holds the band together until Bruce counts them back in.
The finished track was magic, and the band knew it. Released more than two years later as the title track of Bruce’s 1984 album–and as a single on Halloween eve, backed by its litter-mate “Shut Out the Light”–“Born in the U.S.A.” was an immediate hit, peaking at #9 in the U.S. and #5 in the U.K. (1984 was a great year for music).
On Thanksgiving eve, Bruce released his video for the song, strangely pairing the recording with out-of-sync concert footage and a dubbed audience. “Born in the U.S.A,” may be one of Bruce’s better songs, but it’s not one of his better videos. Even the cutaways to a small child followed by a vast cemetery were too subtle to register with most viewers.
The song became famously elusive, with most casual listeners (and even famous commentators) completely missing the message of the song.
The President of the United States seems to have been in their company. Although technically and ironically his words were not inaccurate, it’s highly likely that “Born in the U.S.A.” was the song Reagan had in mind when he said this at a campaign stop:
In fairness, though, at times it seemed like Bruce was determined to feed the controversy. In January 1985, producer Arthur Baker (who had previously tried his hand at “Dancing in the Dark” and “Cover Me“) produced a trio of remixes of Bruce’s anthem.
These remixes draw a lot of scorn, but if you listen carefully, they’re actually pretty good–especially the “Freedom Mix” below. Yes, it’s mostly a curiosity today, but had the final minute of Bruce’s studio version sounded as harrowing and haunted as the final minutes of Baker’s remix, a lot fewer people would have misunderstood the song.
Still, the existence of these remixes–a relatively new phenomenon in general at the time, and one typically reserved for dance/pop songs–made it easy for casual listeners to embrace the celebratory backing track rather than focus on the lyrics.
“Born in the U.S.A.” made its live debut just days after its vinyl debut, at a tour warm-up at The Stone Pony on the evening of June 8, 1984. To this day, it remains one of the few opportunities fans have had to witness the song’s powerful rock arrangement in an intimate venue.
“Born in the U.S.A.” immediately became a tour staple–not just for the tour named after it, but for almost every tour ever after.
When Bruce made an off-tour appearance at Neil and Pegi Young’s Bridge School Benefit, he debuted a bluesy new acoustic arrangement, proving the song is just as powerful in either form.
Bruce even kept “Born in the U.S.A.” in the set during his 1992-1993 World Tour, although perhaps that wasn’t one of his best decisions. Unlike many fans, I give the 1992-93 band their due and appreciate what they brought to Bruce’s music. But “Born in the U.S.A.” was not particularly well-suited to their sound. Judge for yourself:
On his solo acoustic tour in support of The Ghost of Tom Joad, Bruce stripped “Born in the U.S.A.” back to its bluesy Bridge arrangement, but it wasn’t until the Reunion Tour that he finally landed on an arrangement that unmistakably communicated the song’s message. Bruce’s nightly twelve-string performance is still remembered as a highlight of that tour.
Bruce brought the rock arrangement back during the Rising Tour as America inched closer to war in the Middle East, and it’s remained a staple of virtually every tour since, a powerful protest and resistance song embraced by audiences around the world who respond to its spirit even more than its lyrics. Even as recently as the 2016 River Tour, “Born in the U.S.A.” remains as potent as ever.
And in 2017, Bruce selected “Born in the U.S.A.” as one of only a handful of songs to build his Broadway show around, using his acoustic blues introduction paired with an a capella vocal and dramatic timing to devastating effect to underscore his awakening to social causes in general and the plight of veterans specifically. The performance that’s featured in the official broadcast and recording may be Bruce’s most powerful ever.
Today, “Born in the U.S.A.” holds a special place in Bruce’s catalog, beloved by fans, critics, and the songwriter himself. Rolling Stone ranks “Born in the U.S.A.” #275 on their 500 Greatest Songs of All Time list, and RIAA ranks it #59 on their 365 Songs of the Century. It’s a song that reminds and galvanizes as needed, rising again and again to meet the moment when called upon.
“Born in the U.S.A.” may not be the best song in Bruce’s catalog, and it’s certainly not the most influential.
But ten years, twenty years, thirty years, forty years burning down the road, it remains the most necessary.
Born in the U.S.A.
Recorded: April 27-May 3, 1984
Released: Born in the U.S.A. (1984)
First performed: June 8, 1984 (Asbury Park, NJ)
Last performed: July 6, 2023 (London, England)
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