Roll of the Dice: Wages of Sin

I don’t know exactly why this 1982 outtake fascinates me so much. Bruce mined similar earth to more humorous effect both earlier (“Talk to Me“) and later (“I’m Goin’ Down“); he’d write more probing and insightful relationship songs on Tunnel of Love  a few years later.

Lyrically, Bruce would put some of these lines to better use in “My Father’s House.” Metrically, “Wages of Sin” is one of the most awkward songs Bruce has ever written–he stumbles and trips his way through the entire song, at times veering perilously close to a train wreck but never quite leaving the track.

And yet.

“Wages of Sin” worms its way into your brain and takes up residence there, lingering long after the song fades out.

To whatever degree that “Wages of Sin” works, credit the E Street Band: all of the musicians show remarkable restraint throughout the track: Bruce idly strums the introduction as if he’s lost in thought; Max stands out by staying in the background at a low rumble, sounding for all the world like distant thunder.

But the star of “Wages of Sin” is Danny Federici, whose double-tracked organ and glockenspiel draw us into the eerie emotional purgatory where the song’s narrator is trapped.

Maybe you’ve been there, too. I certainly have.

When we fight and I wanna talk it out
You won’t say nothing, nothing at all
You just sit there, you won’t open that pretty mouth
I think you like keeping my back up against the wall

That first verse–man, that’s me. I’m the one who always wants to talk through whatever happened between my wife and me. And that second line–yeah, that’s my wife. When she’s angry or upset about something, she clams up. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days.

But that’s where the similarity ends. When the chorus enters, Bruce makes it clear that this isn’t ordinary relationship drama:

Wages of sin, you keep me paying
Wages of sin, for wrongs that I’ve done
Wages of sin, you keep me paying
Wages of sin, one by one

We never do learn what our narrator did to earn his lover’s perennial silent treatment, but whatever it was it appears to have been a capital crime: the wages of sin are death (or so the bible says). The chorus appears to be a complaint, but it’s really a death rattle.

In the next verse, things get darker still:

I walk in the apartment, there’s clothes thrown all over the place
You’re crouched in the corner with makeup running down your face
I don’t wanna believe what my heart keeps saying
You keep me on the line so you can keep me paying
Wages of sin, we keep paying
Wages of sin, for the wrongs that we’ve done
Wages of sin, yeah, we keep paying
Wages of sin, that’s how we have our fun

Is she as cruel as he makes her out to be? Or is he merely oblivious to the pain she can’t describe? Is he the source of her despair, or is he just unable to understand it?

Either way, our lovers are caught in a death spiral, unable to let go even as they drag each other down.

“Wages of Sin” takes a turn for the surreal at this point, as our narrator flashes back to his childhood and recalls a memory that shines a fascinating light on his inner demons:

I remember when I was a little boy out, out where the cottonwoods grow tall
Trying to make it home through the forest before the darkness falls
Baby all the sounds I heard, even if they weren’t real
I was running down that broken path with the devil snapping at my heels
I tried so hard, so hard in every way
Swore someday I’d grow up and just throw it all away
Cried all the tears, baby, that I could cry
Stomached all my fears ’til they came rushing up inside
Darling I’m losing and it’s a mean game
Still I play on and on just the same
Wages of sin, yeah, I keep paying
Wages of sin, for some wrong that I’ve done
Wages of sin, well, I keep paying
Wages of sin, one by one

Let’s take a moment and acknowledge the familiar lyrics in this dream sequence–familiar, at least, to fans of Springsteen’s Nebraska album (or viewers of Springsteen on Broadway), because those very vivid first four lines eventually found their way to “My Father’s House,” a superior song that put that scene to much, much more effective use.

In “Wages of Sin,” the memory evokes not just the fear of the dark unknown that pervades childhood, but also the distinct suggestion that as a boy, he’d try hard and fruitlessly to please his parents, and that perhaps that futile childhood quest colors his present romantic relationship. It certainly would explain his mounting frustration and despair.

Even the slight lyrical variation in the last chorus (“for some wrong that I’ve done”) implies some original sin in his distant past that haunts him still, dooming him to repeat his mistake without ever correcting it.

Bruce presents us with no glimmer of hope in “Wages of Sin,” or even a hint of resolution. This is a dark and brooding ride, as downbound as a train can get.

It didn’t start out that way, though.

In its earliest incarnation (earliest known, at least), besides a very different melody, “Wages of Sin” featured a Promethean stand-in for the original sinner:

I seen a man carrying a heavy stone
On his back out in the hot sun
And I asked him if I could lift his weight
He just said, “get away from me son”

The chorus seems closer to the final version than the verse–that is until we pay close attention and notice that our narrator seems a bit more clueless in this version–either unaware of or in denial about what he’s done to alienate his lover.

Wages of sin, I kept payin’
Wages of sin for the wrongs I’ve done
All my life I’ve been guilty
But I don’t know what it is I’ve done

That would soon change: in his next recorded attempt, Bruce has found the final melody, and a more familiar chorus emerges:

More familiar, but not completely so–there’s a dodge at the end, a pronoun change to “we” that shares the blame with his lover rather than shoulder full accountability:

Still wages of sin they keep me paying
Wages of sin for the wrongs that we’ve done

We should also take note of Bruce’s eyebrow-raising comment at the top of the demo–he clearly calls for a boy’s choir, implying that the haunting, wordless refrain in the song may have originally been intended to be sung in a more choral arrangement. We can hear Bruce working on it in the clip below and wonder what might have been had he seen this path through to the final version.

By his fourth attempt, however, the song had pretty much come together; after an uncertain first thirty seconds, the clip below starts to sound very familiar.

Still, there are some key differences: the narrator can’t quite face the truth of his actions–he still pleads for someone to fill him in:

Wages of sin you keep me payin’
Wages of sin for the wrongs that I’ve done
Wages of sin, I keep stayin’
Why can’t someone tell me what it is I’ve done

The verses also border on melodrama:

Baby I say something, you cry that you’re hurt
Each time it happens and you rip my shirt
Baby if someone keeps saying
Baby night, night after night I’m payin’

…and the mysterious stranger makes his return –it’s almost as if Bruce is tossing together all of the elements he tried in earlier attempts to see which ones stick.

Thankfully, Bruce figured it out, dialed back the histrionics, and gave his narrator a bit more self-awareness. As a result, a potential castoff became a dark and haunting classic outtake.

“Wages of Sin” is a tough song to pull off in concert. It needs to brood and breathe; it takes up more space and quiet than an arena or stadium typically affords. And then there’s the metrical asymmetry–even Bruce’s teleprompter crutch can’t guarantee a clean reading without practice.

Nevertheless, Bruce attempted it once and only once–in Turku, Finland on the Wrecking Ball Tour–and he hit it out of the park.

The wider array of musicians and instruments on the stage presented Bruce with the ability to craft an arrangement with even more nuance than on the original studio track, and his vocals were in fine, fine form. This is a must-watch clip, deservedly and professionally filmed and published on Bruce’s official YouTube channel.

Bonus: 

If you’re wondering why Bruce chose to break out such an obscurity that night in Turku, it’s because it was a dedication to a loyal fan–Bruce acknowledged him just before playing the song. And if you’re wondering why that part was cut out of the official video, watch the fan-filmed clip below (thanks, Dan!) and you’ll quickly realize.

Sometimes it ain’t glamorous to be in the pit.

Wages of Sin
Recorded: May 10, 1982
Released: Tracks (1998)
First performed: May 8, 2013 (Turku, Finland)
Last performed: May 8, 2013 (Turku, Finland)

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