I’ve spent my 10,000 hours (and then some) learning my musical craft. But I’ve spent a lot more time than that, some 35 years, trying to learn how to let go of the destructive parts of my character. They did not go easily into that good night. For a long time, if I loved you and if I felt a deep attachment to you, I would hurt you if I could. It was a sin, and I still have days when I struggle with it. But I’ve gotten better. Through the love of my family, my good friends, I’ve learned how to love. And to be compassionate with those close to me, and to try and live with some small honor. “Tucson Train” is about a guy who’s trying to follow his better angels, working in the sun for a new start. He’s trying to change. — Bruce Springsteen, Western Stars (2019)
Western Stars is a career summation featuring Bruce at his very peak as a songwriter, arranger, and even as a vocalist. It’s a deeply felt, nuanced treatise on life and living.
It’s also–by far–Bruce’s warmest, most optimistic, and most life-affirming album. The entire album is imbued with the musical equivalent of autumn sunlight.
Western Stars is a collection of late-in-life character studies, and most of the characters have lived quite well. Some continue moving forward (“Hitch Hikin’,” “The Wayfarer“), while some can’t take their eyes off the past (“Moonlight Motel,” “Chasin’ Wild Horses“). Some are just content to be where they are (“Drive Fast (The Stuntman)” and the album’s title track).
But so finely and lushly realized are these songs and that only after several listens might we realize: nothing happens in any of them. There are no story arcs, and the characters go through no change or transformation. Western Stars is a collection of internal monologues–every song a first-person musing of a man on the road of now, occasionally at an intersection with then.
And at the emotional center of the album, there is “Tucson Train,” the album’s purest pop song, combining a warm riff, a catchy hook, and a metronomic train gimmick to irresistible effect–and yet there’s some really sophisticated songwriting at work as well.
“Tucson Train” is about redemption and self-determination, about forgiving oneself and making the most of second chances. More than any song on the album, “Tucson Train” is about moving forward and atoning for past mistakes by letting go of them.
The first verse of “Tucson Train” reads like a typical Springsteen song, yet another variation of “I had a job/I had a girl.”
I got so down and out in ‘Frisco
Tired of the pills and the rain
I picked up, headed for the sunshine
I left a good thing behind
Seemed all of our love was in vain
Now my baby’s coming in on the Tucson train!
Bruce implies that his narrator suffers from seasonal affective disorder, taking anti-depressants to deal with the dark, grey, dampness of northern California. Perhaps the medicine plays a role in the dissolution of his relationship, or perhaps it’s just a convenient scapegoat. Regardless, our hero takes control of his life and relocates to a healthier clime: sunny, arid Tucson, Arizona.
As he dwells on his failure (“I left a good thing behind, seemed all of our love was in vain”), we notice our first example of Bruce’s brilliant songwriting: rather than a traditional ABAB structure, the verses of “Tucson Train” have an extra internal rhyme, a fifth line that creates an ABAAB pattern. The final AB lines break the melodic structure we’re expecting–they both end on a down note, rather than the up note we’d expect for the final lyric.
Before our brains even have a chance to process why we feel so momentarily low, Bruce lifts us back up with an exultant one-line chorus that matches the B rhyme scheme (cementing the ABAABB pattern that the rest of the song follows) as the melody and the backing orchestra soars. Coming so unexpectedly on the heels of those two down lyrics, that single “Now my baby’s coming in on the Tucson train” drips with joy and anticipation–in part thanks to the grammatically and metrically unnecessary “in” that nevertheless makes all the difference in conveying the narrator’s breathless excitement over his baby’s imminent arrival.
If you’ve never noticed the craftsmanship at work in just this one verse, go back and listen again–it’s an excellent example of why I consider Western Stars to be a collection of Bruce’s finest songwriting.
In the second verse, Bruce sheds light on why our hero fled. When you don’t love yourself, it’s hard to love another, and when our narrator looked in the mirror, it seems he didn’t see the man he wanted to be. So he moved somewhere that offered a chance to start over in an environment that allowed for him to be his best self. But even among strangers and without judgment, it’s not easy to maintain focus.
I come here looking for a new life
One I wouldn’t have to explain
To that voice that keeps me awake at night
When a little peace would make everything right
If I could just turn off my brain
Now my baby’s coming in on the Tucson train
Now check out this bridge, because this is sophisticated stuff:
We fought hard over nothing
We fought till nothing remained
I’ve carried that nothing for a long time
Now I carry my operator’s license
And spend my days just running this crane
My baby’s coming in on the Tucson train
Chances are the first couple of times you listened “Tucson Train,” your brain tripped over the bridge, because it’s another example of Bruce subverting our expectations to spectacular effect. The first two lines are ordinary enough, with our hero brooding over his failed relationship. But then comes that third line: “I’ve carried that nothing for a long time.” Not only is this a brilliant turn of phrase, turning the absence of something into a great metaphorical weight, but it’s also an orphan rhyme–it doesn’t go anywhere.
We expect a rhyme pairing that never comes; instead the orphan rhyme serves as melodic ellipsis, creating the impression of the narrator trailing off in thought. Except that he doesn’t: he immediately returns instead to the verse melody in progress, creating a momentary whiplash moment that’s precisely what’s called for: the effect in toto is a narrator who can’t help but remember the past and yet absolutely refuses to live in it. He is here and now, taking great pride and satisfaction in his steady work and giddy with excitement to show his returning love how he’s changed.
Hard work’ll clear your mind and body
The hot sun will burn out the pain
If they’re looking for me, tell ’em buddy
I’m waiting down at the station
Just praying to the five-fifteen
I’ll wait all God’s creation
Just to show her a man can change
Now my baby’s coming in on the Tucson train!
On the Tucson train
On the Tucson train
Waiting on the five-fifteen
Here she comes!
In that final verse, our hero justifiably celebrates his success. He made a bold and risky choice, moving away from his home and his love in order to take control of his life, but he’s succeeded. He’s changed, and while we don’t know exactly how committed his returning love interest is just yet, we know she’s at the very least intrigued to meet the man he’s become.
Even the arrival time of the train (5:15pm) is an important detail: it means our hero was able to put in a full day at work (underscoring his work ethic), before rushing to the train station–which maintains the song’s breathless anticipation to the very end.
The final “Here she comes!” joins the ranks of “Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true or is it something worse” and “God have mercy on the man who doubts what he’s sure of” on the list of Bruce’s greatest last lines. Is there any other song in Bruce’s catalog that can pack so much joy, love, pride, anticipation, and celebration into just three words? I don’t think so.
In true Western Stars fashion, Bruce delivers us no resolution–although it’s beside the point, we’re left to our imagination to decide what happens to our reunited lovers.
We can’t help but root for them.
In the year since its release, Bruce has only performed “Tucson Train” live once, at a private concert in his barn that was filmed for his Western Stars film.
It’s a beautiful performance, but it doesn’t quite measure up to the album track. The strings are a bit too far forward, and the warm french horns a tad too buried. Still, it’s a performance worth owning in both video and audio format.
Bonus: While the filmed Western Stars performance are still working their way through the paid streaming services, Bruce has published a few free excerpts on his YouTube page. Here’s an incomplete clip of his only known (to date) live performance of “Tucson Train.”
Tucson Train
Recorded: Unknown
Released: Western Stars (2019)
First performed: April 2019 (Colts Neck, NJ)
Last performed: April 2019 (Colts Neck, NJ)
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Terrific analysis again Ken. This song (and the entire album) is truly Bruce at his very best. I’m looking forward to reading your breakdowns of the rest of the songs on the record. Bravo!
Great song and great analysis – my favorite track on the album. One different take I have is the final line “Here she comes!” I think the character may not actually know if she’s actually on the train – he is hopeful, just as we are. I think this is another example of the song’s brilliance – it leaves the listener in anticipation, so you are there in the moment with the character, wondering and hoping too that she’s on that train. “She” in this case could also be interpreted two ways – as the woman he left behind or maybe he’s just referencing the train itself is coming.
Thanks, Randy, I can see that reading as well. But why wouldn’t she be on the train? It’s a long ride from SF, and you’d think that they’d been texting along the way. 🙂
Love the analysis, but I believe the rhyme scheme in V1 ABCCB and V2 is ABAAB.
Good point, thanks! 🙂
Thanks Ken, for making us think.
I love this album and for me it is his best solo effort.
Don’t you think there might also a be flash back to Kitty’s back – The final “Here she comes!”
The climax of the expectation
Wonderful post Ken! And got a chance to hear Little Steven and the Disciples of Soul cover “Tucson Train” in the Denver back on their tour in September 2019. A different take on the song – definitely that version is powered by the horn section. Steven was doing a little promoting of the “Western Stars” movie…
Thanks! I was fortunate to hear them play it in New York—great cover.
I first took more or less for granted this guy had serious misconceptions about his hopes. But there’s a difference. As you point out. The refrain is not what it once would have been. I listened carelessly, you didn’t.
A good answer is a manageable one. No matter what.
Funny thing… this Springsteen character
Ken, Good work. As you most likely know, Robert Frost’s epic poem, “The Road Not Taken”, has the rhyming pattern of ABAAB throughout, similar to the second verse of ABAAB(B) in Bruce’s “Tuscon Train” that you insight-fully pointed out. And let’s not forget The Who’s “5:15” track on Quadrophenia. Thanks for sharing. MS
Wow. I will be dropping in here more often. Brilliant
Same. This is awesome stuff
Thanks, Nate and Neil! Glad to have you along for the ride.
I first took more or less for granted this guy had serious misconceptions about his hopes. But there’s a difference. As you point out. The refrain is not what it used to be. I listened carelessly, you didn’t.
A good answer is a manageable one. No matter what.
Funny thing… this Springsteen character
I appreciate the blog! That said, I’ve tended to interpret this song a little differently and as an implicitly sadder song whose narrator isn’t quite moving forward and is as stuck on past regrets as some of the album’s other narrators, even if he’s managed to reinvent himself; I just find myself doubting that his baby’s coming in on the Tucson Train and tend to think that he’s deluding himself a bit in that — which I think makes for a more interesting and layered song thematically than a simpler uplifting song (where the two get back together) or heartbreak song (where he stews in his misery indefinitely and doesn’t improve), or even an already complex song where the narrator improves himself and, through that self-improvement, accepts that his baby may well not be returning (like “Valentine’s Day”).
That said, I’m biased in that I listened to this song back-to-back with Nick Cave’s “Bright Horses” quite a bit, an unrelentingly devastating song which very heavily involves the denial intrinsic to a certain degree of faith, using very similar lyrics (“My baby’s coming back now on the next train […] My baby’s coming come now, on the 5:30 train.”) That probably distorted my perception of this song by projecting the “Bright Horses” denial on to it — but still, I do think it’s interesting to see a narrator who’s kind of halfway to the point of “Valentine’s Day” by managing to largely improve himself in terms of his patterns of outward behavior while still not recognizing the corrosion inherent to his feeling that he’s ordained a “happy ending.”
Listening a little more closely, I think there’s a little textual effort to support this: the narrator describes his exodus as a result of restlessness and looking for peace, so you could see it as a tragic song about him making that trip, still finding himself without peace, realizing that he was better off to begin with, and so deluding himself into thinking his ex will make that same trip; “Drive Fast” also finds a narrator’s romantic situation as being a broken attempt to get “the broken pieces to fit”. (Admittedly, I started typing this paragraph having misheard “when a little peace” as “one little piece”, which would support this read more… but still!) This would place it in a similar camp to “Downbound Train”, whose narrator dreams of his ex being as lonely as he is and re-connecting with him; this one would be even darker, as it’s not just a dream haunting him but rather him slowly, gradually keeping himself in a bad spot in the long run through his unfulfilled dreams (“Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true, or is it something worse?”) entirely while awake.
In particular, though, I think the way the narrator *himself* describes his belief that she’ll return is notable: he’s **praying to** the 5:15. You mentioned in another comment that they’d be texting and he’d know if she’s on the train… but I’d turn that on its head: if she were really coming back, I agree that they’d be in communication, and so he’d know for sure what train she’s on, which the titular refrain might lead us to think he does… but if that’s the case, why would he be “praying”? So your very point in another comment that they’d be in communication as she makes her travel works, I think *against* the interpretation that she’s actually coming back; it means he’d have no reason to be “praying.” And he says “I’ll wait all God’s creation” — what an unusual set of wording! — but I think meant as “I’ll wait until the end of time”, and, at any rate, indicating that he’s not only BEEN waiting a very long time, but also that he expects, and intends, to KEEP doing so (it’s “I’ll wait”, not “I’ve waited”, after all.)
So the narrator himself describes the 5:15 train as a sort of prayer, one he expects and intends to be performing indefinitely. To me, that sticks the landing on the narrator being deeply in denial about his future.
I’ve thought, until writing this comment, that the percussive click-clack on the intro and outro was just meant as a cute, fun little artistic touch (…much like, come to think of it, my beloved scanner beeps from the criminally underrated “Queen of the Supermarket”!), but from my read of the narrator, it could may be a way of showing that he’s at a standstill: waiting on the train at the start… waiting on the train at the end… never progressing. On the flip side, it could just as easily be heard, through your read, as signifying a constant forward momentum in his life, or as heralding her arrival at the end of the song after signifying his departure at the beginning. Interesting in any case! I think there’s definitely some thematic reason for its bookending that I haven’t ever considered before this. I mean, the guy has a lot of songs about trains and cars, and most of them don’t open and close with sound effects, so I think there’s probably a thematic reason for it.
I dunno, I just really like the complexity of him managing to improve himself but for the wrong reasons and thereby not improving himself all the way — and for all Bruce writes about the restorative power of love (“Dancing in the Dark”, “Thunder Road”, “All the Way Home”, “Real World”, “Living Proof”, “Frankie Fell in Love”, and countless other examples going all the way back to being “reminded of the feeling of romance” on the debut album, side A, track 1…), I think his occasional foray into the destructive power of unhealthy and unrealistic fixation ON that love is fascinating on the rare occasions when it comes up (“She’s the One”, “Candy’s Room”, and “Down in the Hole” are the main examples I think of here, and each has been firmly entrenched in my all-time top 10 Springsteen songs for probably a few years at least; “Spare Parts”, another all-time great, also dabbles in this, though the narrator learns her lesson by the end.)
I will admit that this is at odds with how uplifting the music is (though there’s absolutely precedent for that, especially as the narrator’s optimism is sincere; “Candy’s Room” is basically the same thing — an upbeat, energetic song due to very authentic, but potentially entirely unrequited, passion) and maybe with Bruce’s commentary (though not entirely; he says the guy is TRYING to improve, which very much implies an ongoing process, where maybe the guy is motivated by the wrong reasons now but that could change.)
So I can certainly toss this on and hear it as an entirely uplifting song where the reunion comes to pass; after all, I gave other examples that don’t work out well — maybe this narrator can get the rare unambiguously happy ending in a Bruce song, and that’d be a nice subversion if so… but then, it’s the ambiguity that makes some of his best work shine! So I think it’s at least interesting, and worthwhile, to ask — what if this guy’s wrong? What if she’s NOT coming in on the train? How much darker of a song is THAT, and how do we think this guy would react to it? Even if we fall on different sides of whether she’s on the train or not, it’s interesting to consider the other side, in my case seeing how this might actually be a much more glowing, unreservedly uplifting song than I’ve previously envisioned, or for others who see it as an uplifting song to consider how much darker it may be.
Maybe, as is so often the case with Springsteen songs, the ambiguity is purposeful in itself… after all, we don’t see her get off the train or enter the station. We don’t see her talking to him. Maybe, like “Reason to Believe”, “Valentine’s Day”, “Devil’s Arcade”, “Atlantic City”, and so many others, the song intentionally resides in this ambiguous territory, and it’s up to us to decide what happens next. That would certainly be the most prototypically Springsteen interpretation, lol.
I will say that I love your observation about the train being at 5:15. He’s done the hard work, and only then does he wait on her. I think that’s the biggest textual support, by far, for the uplifting interpretation. It lets us know that if any narrator who has made this guy’s mistakes “deserves” a reunion (not that anyone does since that’s not how the consent of his ex works, but you get what I mean), it’s him.
One more note: for the attentive superfan, I think the idea of him just up and vanishing on his spouse due to a voice in his head (hey, wait — isn’t there one of those little voices in a narrator’s head in “Sundown”?? I look forward to your thoughts on that parallel!) calls to mind “Cautious Man” and a real hidden gem, “Unsatisfied Heart”. For a bit more of a coincidental stretch, “We fought hard over nothing” reminds me quite a bit of “One Step Up”, which I don’t think is deliberate, but having read your “Moonlight Motel” post right before this, I’d say I’m starting to notice a lot of parallels between both those WS songs (and maybe “Hitch Hikin'” — “he travels fastest who travels alone”…) and the Tunnel of Love record generally; I already also noted that this track’s “breakup, then self-improvement, then the hope for reconciliation” arc is *really* similar to “Valentine’s Day”, the key difference being that I think that narrator has more awareness than this one.
You also noted in your post here the similarity between these opening lyrics and “Downbound Train”. I’d argue, after sitting with this song further and writing this comment, that the comparison is more than superficial! — for the reasons indicated when I brough up that same song earlier!: the DBT narrator is plagued in his sleep by dreams of his ex professing to equal loneliness and returning to him; the TT narrator spends his days “waiting” and “praying” (his words, not mine!) for his ex to make the same click-clack, click-clack trip down the track he made himself. Maybe this was intentional on Bruce’s part, given how similar the song’s titles are, too?; they’re both “(Descriptor) Train”, which doesn’t mean a lot in itself, but given the other similarities, it feels more deliberate. And to your point about the narrator’s work ethic (which I certainly agree with, regardless of whether his optimism is misplaced or not), it’s worth considering that that narrator loses jobs repeatedly throughout the span of the song (in at least one case through no fault of his own, but still) while this narrator is a licensed professional.
Maybe, to your reading, and considering the “Moonlight Motel”/”Thunder Road” connections (and considering how littered LTY is with connections to previous songs [far too fans talk about how “House of a Thousand Guitars” is almost explicitly a “Radio Nowhere” sequel, but that’s another topic…]), this is meant as a sort of lighter version of “Downbound Train” where the dreams come true — or, per mine, is meant as an alternate telling of a similar story where the narrator’s corrosive grief takes a different form. In either case, I feel like there’s a good chance the connections between the two songs are deliberate.
Anyways, while I disagree with some of the thoughts on the song, that very disagreement — as well as the points I do agree with — certainly gave me a lot more to think about! Which is nice; I love Western Stars musically, and I like the lyrics I’ve sat with, but I haven’t spent nearly as much time unpacking its stories as I have those of something like Magic, The Rising, or TOL, and I’d like to change that. One down…