Roll of the Dice: Your Own Worst Enemy

Most accounts (including Bruce’s) contend that Bruce’s Working on a Dream album began with the recording of “What Love Can Do” during the Magic mixing sessions.

But if you ask me, we can trace the true transition directly to “Your Own Worst Enemy,” one of the strongest tracks on Magic.

Both Magic  and Working on a Dream have distinct musical styles, with the latter characterized primarily by a lush California sound. They also have very specific lyrical themes: Magic is a political record, whereas Working on a Dream is a treatise on growing older (very much a sonic and thematic prelude to Western Stars).

There are two songs on Magic that sound like they’d be much more at home on Working on a Dream. The first, “Girls in Their Summer Clothes,” fits the latter album like a glove. In both words and music, it’s clear that Bruce had already transitioned to his next album theme.

The second, however, is more curious: “Your Own Worst Enemy” definitely sounds like a Working on a Dream song, but lyrically it’s 100% Magic. I don’t have any inside info to support my hypothesis, but I believe that “Your Own Worst Enemy” represents Bruce’s true demarcation point, where he became newly re-captivated by the west coast sound but hadn’t yet worked his politically charged lyrics out of his system.

I could be wrong–it certainly wouldn’t be the first or last time Bruce would belie dark lyrics with sun-drenched music–but its stylistic straddling of both albums seems too perfect to have not been either the spark or result of Bruce’s next big idea.

Let’s take a listen.

At the time it was released, most reviews of Magic likened “Your Own Worst Enemy” to a Beach Boys song, and I can definitely hear the Pet Sounds influence. But I remember thinking I heard another band’s influence at work–especially that cello–but until a week ago I thought it was wishful thinking.

When Bruce played “Andrew in Drag” during his recent DJ stint on E Street Radio, however, that clinched it for me: Bruce must have been listening to The Magnetic Fields around the time he composed “Your Own Worst Enemy.” Compare Bruce’s song with “Born on a Train.”

But whatever the influence, the backing track isn’t the most notable thing about “Your Own Worst Enemy” (although it’s almost unforgivable that Danny Federici is so buried in the mix–this song may represent his last great work).

Heck, it’s not even the second most notable thing–that would be Bruce’s holy-crap-I-forgot-the-man-could-sing-like-that crooning vocal that swoops throughout and soars with the flag at the end.

No, what makes “Your Own Worst Enemy” rank so high (in my estimation) in Bruce’s catalog are his devastating, penetrating, accusatory lyrics that operate perfectly on two levels at once. That is, of course, one of Bruce’s superpowers, but rarely does he pull it off so jaw-droppingly as he does here.

Bruce’s first verse is intriguingly vague, planting us (through the use of second-person narration) in the shoes of a protagonist with a guilty conscience:

You can’t sleep at night
You can’t dream your dream
Your fingerprints on file
Left clumsily at the scene

Your own worst enemy has come to town
Your own worst enemy has come to town

We don’t know why yet, but it’s clear that we did something wrong, and we’re terrified of being found out. Like in “Stolen Car,” we wait to get caught.

In the second verse, we start to get an inkling of what we did, and the “Stolen Car” comparison may be an apt one:

Yesterday the people were at ease
Baby slept in peace
You closed your eyes and saw her
You knew who you were

Now your own worst enemy has come to town
Your own worst enemy has come
Your world keeps turnin’ ’round and ’round
But everything is upside down
Your own worst enemy has come to town

It appears we may have been unfaithful, and it’s haunting us. Even at night, asleep in our own bed, we see our temptress rather than our partner.

Something else to note here: the second chorus is longer than the first, and the third will be longer than the second. It’s a clever device that makes us feel increasingly off-balance, falling further and further into the whirlpool of our crime.

By the time the bridge arrives—which, by the way, seems like it’s shared with album-mate “Girls in Their Summer Clothes,” so close are they–we’re so disappointed in ourselves that we don’t even recognize our own reflection.  As in “One Step Up,” when we look at ourselves we don’t see the people we wanted to be.

There’s a face you know
Staring back from the shop window
The condition you’re in
Now you just can’t get out of this skin

By this point in the song, we’re pretty sure we know what it’s about and where it’s going. But here comes the magic trick:

The times they got too clear
So you removed all the mirrors
Once the family felt secure
Now no one’s very sure

Yes, this verse still functions in a personal context, but there’s something about that first line: “The times, they got too clear…”

And while it’s understandable that our family might detect and be uneasy with our marital discord, there’s something about that word “secure.”

Given the political context of the album, we replay the song in a new light, and we realize that all along it’s been a biting commentary on the state of America. In 2007, the country had drifted from its values and been unfaithful to its principles. We thought it was in the name of our security, and maybe it was at the start. But very quickly, the implications and consequences of a selective conscience started to appear.

Rather than accept the risk that comes with liberty, we simply surrendered the moral high ground. Ironically, that made us feel even less secure–we’d become a greater enemy to ourselves than the one we were trying to protect ourselves from, and collectively we dealt with it by not dealing with it. In other words, we removed all the mirrors.

We’d become something we weren’t ever supposed to be, and facing that uncomfortable truth was wrenching us out of our self-denial.

Now that the true meaning of the song’s title is clear, the final, longest chorus knocks us off balance, setting us up for a knockout punch in the form of one of Bruce’s trademark devastating final couplets:

Your own worst enemy has come to town
Your own worst enemy has come
Everything is falling down
Your own worst enemy has come to town
Your own worst enemy has come
Everything is falling down
Your own worst enemy has come to town

Your flag it flew so high
It drifted into the sky

That final couplet is one of Bruce’s best ever, certainly in its use of metaphor. All pretense of any context other than political is abandoned, and the true theme of “Your Own Worst Enemy” is laid bare: in our post-9/11 embrace of nationalism, we let go of the nation we were supposed to be.

The American flag–the very symbol of our patriotism–flying so high that it drifts away is Bruce’s brilliant metaphor for how patriotism-turned-nationalism can lead you astray from the very one you profess to love.

For my money, “Your Own Worst Enemy” is tied with “Long Walk Home” as the strongest thematic track on Magic. (“Girls in Their Summer Clothes” is still my favorite album track overall, even though it sticks out like a sore thumb on the disc). Both use layered metaphor to make incisive social commentary, but only “Long Walk Home” gets the recognition it deserves.

Part of the reason “Your Own Worst Enemy” flies under the radar lies in how infrequently Bruce performs it in concert.  During the Magic Tour, he performed “Long Walk Home” nightly, but “Your Own Worst Enemy” a mere half-dozen times. If you were fortunate enough to be in the house one of those six nights (as I was, in Seattle), it was probably apparent why Bruce didn’t play it more often: the lush production of the album track couldn’t fully translate to the stage.

But in 2010, Bruce took a run at a solo acoustic arrangement and hit it out of the park. Stripped of its backing track, Bruce’s lyrics commanded full attention (even though his astoundingly pure off-year vocals did their best to distract).

Bruce performed “Your Own Worst Enemy” twice since, each time acoustic. I suspect that’s the way we’ll hear it from now on–and hear it we will, because sadly the song has only grown in relevance in recent years.

Your Own Worst Enemy
Recorded: March-May 2007
Released: Magic (2007)
First performed: October 10, 2007 (East Rutherford, NJ)
Last performed: November 4, 2011 (Pittsburgh, PA)

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