When I started this blog, I knew there would be certain songs that would be tough to write about. “Nebraska” is one of them.<\/p>\n
Not because it’s cryptic or inaccessible or a bad song–it’s none of those things–but because so much as already been written about it. In any book (and there are many) on Bruce and his work, you’re guaranteed to find a chapter on at least the\u00a0Nebraska\u00a0<\/em>album if not its title track.<\/p>\n So I won’t delve into the song’s historical and theatrical inspiration–you can easily find that if you want to, by authors more knowledgeable and stylistic.<\/p>\n But I\u00a0will<\/em> focus on its theme of isolation and Bruce’s innate ability to walk in another’s shoes, because both will increasingly become hallmarks of his work in subsequent years.<\/p>\n It’s impossible to listen to the\u00a0Nebraska\u00a0<\/em>album without feeling haunted by it. The songs all have a raw, unrehearsed sound (in “Atlantic City<\/a>,” Bruce even trips over his own vocals but leaves it in), and the songs marinate in the silence of his home studio.\u00a0 Listen to “Nebraska” with your eyes closed, and you’ll feel like you’re in the room with him. You’ll hear his intake of breath, and his harmonica is almost three-dimensional.<\/p>\n