Duality: it’s one of many recurring themes in Bruce’s catalog.
In recent years, Bruce has allowed us some insight as to why; he’s revealed his internal struggle to us in print, on stage, and on film. For a long time, he told us, “if I loved you, I’d hurt you if I could.”
And with those words, he revealed a roadmap through the terrain of his songwriting that we couldn’t fully appreciate before, a landscape littered with battlegrounds of a war within: the urge to withdraw pushing up against the need to connect.
And more often that not, we can see it playing out in his hands.
We can see it in “Cautious Man” —
On his right hand Billy tattooed the word love and on his left hand was the word fear
And in which hand he held his fate was never clear
We see it in “Valentine’s Day” —
I’m driving a big lazy car rushin’ up the highway in the dark
I got one hand steady on the wheel and one hand’s tremblin’ over my heart
And we see it in “Leah.”
But among all of the songs in which Bruce wages his emotional war, “Leah” stands out for its confidence and sureness. The narrator in “Leah” has no fear of the unknown–in fact, whatever tug-of-war he felt in his heart is long gone.
Our point-of-view character knows what he wants and who he wants, and the song bounces along like the spring of the narrator’s step. To Bruce’s fans, such single-minded resolution in a Springsteen character is a novelty, and Bruce knows it: he relies on our expectations and fakes us out with a first verse that sounds like it’s sung by a typical Springsteen loner… until its final two words:
I wanna build me a house on higher ground
I wanna find me a world where love’s the only sound
High above this road filled with shadow and doubt
I want to shoulder my load and figure it all out
With Leah
That’s a neat trick, and it only works as well as it does because Bruce has conditioned us so well. Those two words–“with Leah”–almost sound like an afterthought, but they land like a cannonball. We don’t have to listen any further to understand the significance of such conviction about a connection.
In Verse Two, Bruce lays out his duality/hands metaphor, but he abandons it as soon as he establishes it. It’s not relevant anymore–it’s a trademark of the character’s past, but there’s no hint of doubt in his present.
I walk this road with a hammer and a fiery lantern
With this hand I’ve built and with this I’ve burned
I wanna live in the same house beneath the same roof
Sleep in the same bed, search for the same proof
As Leah
But it’s the final verse that deliver’s the song’s biggest emotional wallop:
I got something in my heart I been waiting to give
I got a life I wanna start, yeah one I been waiting to live
No more waiting, tonight I feel the light I say the prayer
I open the door and I climb the stairs
As sure as art imitates life and life imitates art, we know–without Bruce spelling it out–just how long and how much it took for our narrator to reach this point, a place where he can open his heart, give and receive love, and share a life.
And as for the song’s final line, it’s no accident that he leaves us without closure. We expect to hear two more words: “to Leah,” and most of us probably mentally supply them to fill their absence in the song.
So why did Bruce choose to leave them out? Because the act of opening the door and climbing the stairs represents the character’s victory over his inner nature. Leah may be the motivation, but she’s not the prize, and ending the song with her would detract from our hero’s accomplishment.
“Leah” is about as under-the-radar as a Springsteen song gets. It’s gentle, hopeful, and simple: Bruce plays all instruments save for Mark Pender’s muted background trumpet solo. There’s no grandstanding here, no showing off–just a simple, uplifting song of hope and connection. It’s buried deep on one of Bruce’s less-popular albums, and he’s only ever performed it on the tour that supported it.
Here’s a clip of Bruce performing “Leah” live in Bologna on the Devils & Dust Tour–and once we get past the awkward introduction (Bruce has to slow the song down to keep pace with the clapping Italians who threatened to overpower his guitar), we can appreciate the lightness and ease in his performance.
It’s been almost a decade and a half since we last heard from “Leah.”
In recent years, Bruce has chosen to walk paths where the song wouldn’t fit (although I was sure that we’d get to hear “Leah” on the Working on a Dream Tour, where it would have fit nicely).
It’s too gentle a song to translate well to a full band, but I hold out hope for “Leah” to get a return outing if we can just get one more acoustic tour from Bruce.
Leah
Recorded: Mid-2004
Released: Devils & Dust (2005)
First performed: April 21. 2005 (Asbury Park, NJ)
Last performed: November 22, 2005 (Trenton, NJ)
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