Roll of the Dice: Hello Sunshine

Around a minute and 45 seconds into “Hello Sunshine,” we’re treated to something I don’t think we’ve ever heard before: thirty seconds of Bruce Springsteen humming an entire verse.

Those thirty wordless seconds–that’s the sound of pure contentment.

Have we ever heard Bruce sound so deeply satisfied before? I don’t think so. One could make an argument for outtakes like “County Fair” and “The Honeymooners,” I suppose, but those songs focus on a single perfect day–we instinctively know that the narrators of those songs are experiencing a brief moment of time out of time.

There’s also “Happy,” of course, but that’s the song of a new dad in his babymoon phase–all new parents go through that (emphasis on through).

“Kingdom of Days” may be the song that comes closest, and there’s a strong thematic through line that not only connects “Kingdom of Days” to “Hello Sunshine” but also connects their respective albums.

No, there’s something different about the deep satisfaction expressed by the narrator of “Hello Sunshine.” It feels permanent, or at least enduring and earned.

Ever since Bruce made public his lifelong battle with depression, it’s been tempting for fans (including this one) to reinterpret his past work and receive his future music through that lens. With a first line like “Had enough of heartbreak and pain” and a one-line chorus of “Hello sunshine, won’t you stay,” it’s easy–too easy–to classify “Hello Sunshine” as an anti-depressive plea for figurative lightness to stave off the darkness Bruce has struggled with throughout his adult life.

But it’s more than that, I think–much more. To my ears, “Hello Sunshine” isn’t a plea; it’s an invitation, and that’s a powerful and important distinction.

Let’s take another listen.

Rarely does Bruce employ music as a narrative device so effectively as he does in “Hello Sunshine.”

We don’t need the video to tell us we’re on an open road–we realize that from the opening bars. Matt Chamberlain (the unsung percussionist hero on “Shackled and Drawn” and “Death to My Hometown” as well) carries us along entirely on his brushes, save for a single drumbeat that punctuates the song like the rhythmic seams along the highway.

After a few seconds, Ron Aniello’s bossa nova bass line kicks in with a simple riff that merges with Chamberlain’s percussion to form a rhythm line that literally sounds like the open road.

Had enough of heartbreak and pain
I had a little sweet spot for the rain
For the rain and skies of gray
Hello sunshine, won’t you stay

As with most of Western Stars, we’re immediately struck by the warmth of Bruce’s vocals. By this point in the album (“Hello Sunshine” is the penultimate track) you’d think we’d be used to it, but Bruce positively croons his way through this song.

The first verse introduces a narrator with a great deal of self-awareness. He acknowledges a past of heartbreak and pain but leaves it up to the listener to infer whether he was the recipient, agent or both. It doesn’t really matter, though, because he’s had enough of it and isn’t looking back.

Another of the many subtle yet sublime touches throughout “Hello Sunshine”: each verse ends with a one-line chorus that concludes on an up-note rather than the down one we’re conditioned to expect, yet another signal that the narrator is in a place of optimism and contentment.

You know I always liked my walking shoes
But you can get a little too fond of the blues
You walk too far, you walk away 
Hello sunshine, won’t you stay

We’re used to Bruce sneaking a killer line into his songs. “Hello Sunshine” has three of them in back-to-back-to-back stanzas, starting with you walk too far, you walk away. That’s such an incredible line that we’re prone to miss the significant one that precedes it: you can get a little too fond of the blues.

That’s our cue not to take the song literally–the empty streets and lonely towns are metaphors for the narrator’s own life. As comfortable as he’s become being a loner and alienating those around him, he’s realized that there’s a point at which the ties that bind become so stretched that they break.

He drives it home in the bridge in our second great line:

You know I always loved a lonely town
Those empty streets, no one around
You fall in love with lonely, you end up that way
Hello sunshine, won’t you stay

That third line should be enshrined with Bruce’s very best lyrics. It’s the heart of the song, as well as its message.

Luckily, our narrator has realized it in time, which Bruce conveys to us through that brilliant, wordless third verse. The first time I heard “Hello Sunshine,” I shook my head in wonder at the songwriting talent it takes to realize that there are times you can convey more without words than through them.

A second bridge bookends the sentiment:

You know I always liked that empty road
No place to be and miles to go
But miles to go is miles away 
Hello sunshine, won’t you stay

And here we have our third and final great line: miles to go is miles away. 

Our narrator says so much with that line. Late in life, he no longer has much in the way of aspiration, but he still has miles to go before he sleeps. With his remaining years stretching out before him and very little left to accomplish, it’s time to enjoy the life he’s built and appreciate those who share it. (If we choose to, we can simultaneously read “Sunshine” as a term of endearment for his travelling companion. The song supports both interpretations without forcing us to choose.) While never stated, there’s a strongly implied theme of reconciliation present in “Hello Sunshine” as well.

As if to underline, Bruce repeats his life-affirming mantra before closing the song:

And miles to go is miles away
Hello sunshine, won’t you stay
Hello sunshine, won’t you stay
Hello sunshine

Bruce subverts our expectations one final time when he leaves off the “won’t you stay” we expect to hear him close with. That’s intentional–it’s Bruce’s way of letting us know that the narrator’s invitation has been accepted. He’s embraced the sunlight and no longer doubts its permanence.

Throughout the song, Bruce gradually infuses “Hello Sunshine” with warmth and light through orchestration. After the expository first verse, Bruce introduces his piano at the onset of the second–although significantly it doesn’t carry any of the melody but instead hews to Aniello’s bass line. Marc Muller’s pedal steel enters in time for the bridge, interweaving rather than accompanying.

It’s only with that gorgeous wordless bridge that we finally hear an instrumental melody, courtesy of the talented Avatar Strings. When the strings enter and swell, it’s a powerful moment–we practically see the narrator marinating in sunlight, and we certainly feel it.

An instrumental coda carries us off towards sunset, fading out rather than ending in order to leave us with the impression of a long road of contentment ahead for our narrator.

It’s a beautiful note to end the song on–and combined with the sublime “Moonlight Motel” that follows it, “Hello Sunshine” closes Western Stars on a deeply optimistic note–a note of hope and possibility.

On this first day of a new year, may you feel that same hope and possibility–and sunshine–as well.

Bonus: Like much of Western Stars, “Hello Sunshine” is so carefully and masterfully crafted that I’m skeptical that it can be surpassed (or even equaled) when performed live. Bruce’s only performance to date (from the filmed Western Stars concert) certainly doesn’t measure up to the studio version, but it’s a lovely attempt. I include it here for comparison.

Hello Sunshine
Recorded: 2010, 2019
Released: Western Stars (2019)
First performed: April 2019 (Colts Neck, NJ)
Last performed: April 2019 (Colts Neck, NJ)

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