Springsteen, Showing Your Age, and Knowing Your Truth

By
Scott D. Parker

“I’m getting a certain vibe here,” my twenty-one-year-old son said as I drove my car on the streets leading to Houston’s Toyota Center. With less than thirty minutes before showtime, the traffic crawled and the sidewalks were jammed with people heading to the arena to see the 2023 version of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

Yes, there was a vibe. Lots of middle-aged people, many with all-gray hair and loose, baggy clothes worn to hide bodies no longer as thin as fit as they were when The Boss ruled the airwaves in the Seventies and Eighties. Some wore concert t-shirts from ages past while others sported more modern Springsteen attire. A decent number of the concert goers were like me: attending the show with a younger person, hoping to introduce what it was like to see Springsteen the Showman fill an arena with sound and lead the fans in singing his songs. I chuckled as my son and I made our way to our seats. So many people my age and older crowded the hallways. Not like when he and I saw the band Ghost in early 2022. Then, I was in the age minority.

But there was a moment before the lights dimmed and the music started when I looked around at the people who sat near us and lots of the people we had seen coming into Toyota Center: they were old, or at least they looked old. But if they were old, that meant I was old, too. Right? I’m not one who takes my age into account on any given day. Looking out of my eyes, I’m like a perpetual twentysomething person. Looking in the mirror, I see the truth. Looking at all these older Springsteen fans, I see their truths.

And when Bruce himself got on stage and started the evening with “Night,” his face was broadcast on four screens hung over the stage. We had decent seats, but it was nice to have the professional camera folks giving us close ups of the Boss and the members of the E Street Band. When the camera often zoomed in on Springsteen’s face, you could see his truth as well.

The man is seventy three. Yes, he’s aged well. I hope I look as good as he does when I’m that age. Yes he has access to medical and dietary resources that help him age gracefully, but you can still see the age on his face, his eyelids, and the wrinkles around his face. You can tell that he’s not as animated as he used to be when he ran across stages, sliding on his knees, and leaping into the crowds.

But he was still thrilling, and he still put on a helluva show.

And yet I never expected to tear up at a Springsteen show. Well, I should have expected it, but when it happened, it actually moved me.

Every rock star I discovered in my youth, teens, and twenties have aged right along with me. Of course they have, you say. We’re all human. Yes, we are, but when you spin a record that came out in 1992 or 1982 or whenever, your mind can time travel back to that year and you can remember how you felt hearing those songs. In those moments, you can be that age again, even if you’re driving an SUV and taking your kids to band practice.

We got that sense of time travel on Tuesday evening with Bruce. So many of those songs are all time travel songs. That’s what they’ve become. Some songs never get old. “Born to Run”, sung at full volume with the house light up, everyone punching the air with upraised arms, will never, ever get old. But twice on Tuesday, mortality and truth entered the room and reminded us that time never stops.

In a long, spoken introduction to “Last Man Standing,” Bruce told us about he was the last person who was still alive from his first band, The Castilles. It was in this story that Bruce uttered a particularly great quote: “Death’s great gift is expanded vision.” None of us knows how many days we have, so it is necessary to make sure the lives we live are the best possible version.

The final song was just the two of us. By that I mean it was Bruce, on stage with an acoustic guitar and a harmonica, singing to everyone but, in reality, he was singing to each and every one of us like it was just him and us in a room together. “I’ll See You In My Dreams” is a song about mortality and aging and loss. But it’s also an inspirational ode, especially with the line “For death is not the end and I’ll see you in my dreams.”

On the record, it’s the last track and the last time he says those words, he talking, to us, individually and collectively. On stage, the same vibe could be felt throughout the arena as the crowd was mostly silent, listening to Bruce Springsteen tell us that he’ll see us—his fans, his friends—in his dreams. The implication is that when he finally calls it a day and stops touring, he’ll have dreams about the fifty-plus years he’s experienced life on stage.

And we’ll have memories of concerts like this as well.

When I listened to that song on the record back in 2020, I wondered if those last few words would be the last time I’d ever hear a new Bruce Springsteen song. I should have realized that his restless spirit will always create new material even if he doesn’t tour it.

When I listened to that song live in 2023, I wondered if that would be the last time I ever heard Springsteen in person. Maybe. Maybe not. But if it was, what a way to say goodbye, not with a loud, bombastic anthem, but a quiet, gentle song about aging and mortality yet filled with hope, joy, energy, and the truth that shows like this will last a lifetime.

Cherishing a New Bruce Springsteen Song

 A couple things occurred to me on Thursday when I heard the new Bruce Springsteen song, "Letter to You," from his forthcoming album of the same name.

The most obvious one was that there was a brand-new Bruce Springsteen song! Just a day after the rumor started, the official press release drops as does the first single. It is always a great day when there's a new Springsteen tune, especially in 2020 (a damn good year for music). It struck me, however, that this one was slightly different. 

Not only was it a record with the E Street Band, but it was by an artist who had already reached the age of seventy. The Boss is seventy? Seriously? And then the video shows the entire band recording the songs for the album. It was like seeing old friends gathered again, smiling, laughing, working, creating, all in its black-and-white glory. 

The song's lyrics are mature and nuanced, deep with emotion. Hearing them, reading them as they played across the screen, I'll admit to a bit of emotion. Not nearly as much as last year's "Hello Sunshine" debut, but it was there. Why? Well, the meaning of the lyrics, of course, but also the echo of a question I hated to admit at the time: how many more days will we have that feature a new Springsteen song? 

He's seventy and the rest of the band ain't getting any younger. Unless Springsteen releases an album and unequivocably announces it is the last one, chances are we'll never know which day was the last to hear a brand-new Springsteen song. We'll be able to look back and note it, but not on that actual day.

I swept those thoughts away from the front of mind, but confess to thinking them and just relished the song.

Know what else made it special? The person I was with when I heard it.

I wake early every morning to work on my fiction writing, so I had already been alerted that the new song dropped. I had read the press release, seen the album cover, and read the tracklisting (which means little ahead of hearing the actual album). I was ready to hear the song. Last year, with "Hello Sunshine," I had listened to it about five times before my son got out of bed.

But on Thursday, I waited. My son, a college freshman, likes a few Springsteen albums and I know he'd want to hear the song before he drove to school. Well, *I* wanted him to hear it before school, so I made sure he did. Perhaps, on an unconscious level, the thoughts about The Boss not getting any younger played a role. I can't say, but I wanted to share the experience.

And it was all the more special.

It also made me think of all the other musicians, authors, and actors who I've grown up with. Some have already passed on but most of my favorites are still with us. Made me cherish them and their work all the more.

Year of an Indie Writer: Week 24

by
Scott D. Parker

Slow week that ended on a high note.

As I mentioned last week, I'm backing away from the every day blogging for a bit. I considered a Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday schedule...and didn't get my act together to do that this week. Still, I reviewed John Wick and Dead Poets Society at 30.

Alas, no new fiction written this week. But proofing on BRIDES OF DEATH continues well. It'll make its 1 July publication.

I did, however, get some new ideas for future stories, so that's always a good thing. Wrote them all down for my future self.

Weird. In January when I started this series, I didn't expect to have weeks in which there would be zero new writing. But that's the reality right now. I could blame life stuff, but it's not that. It's just a blank.

Which I why I'm filling up the bucket by reading new and different things.

Reading List

The novel I'm reading is one I picked up on my vacation to Corpus Christi, Texas, last week: THE SCAM by Linda Evanovich and Lee Goldberg. By my own memory, I have not read any of the Fox and O'Hare series. Yes, this isn't the first one, but I've long decided to go with the book that caught my eye and read it rather than go "Hey, this book looks cool, but it's the fourth title, so I better go back and read the first three and only then get to the book that caught my eye." Yeah, that never happens anymore.

On audio, I'm listening to two non-fiction books. AMERICAN MOONSHOT by Douglas Brinkley is helping me get ready for next month's 50th anniversary of the moon landing. BTW, it is this book that gave me my ideas.

The other audiobook dropped just this week: SONGS OF AMERICA: PATRIOTISM, PROTEST, AND THE MUSIC THAT MADE A NATION by Jon Meacham and Tim McGraw. Both co-authors narrate the book. So far, McGraw reads the lyrics to the songs (from the 1700s), but I hope as we get to the 20th Century, they'll actually play the songs. This book seems tailor made for audio. Man, can Meacham write some glowing prose.

Record of the Week (Month and Year)

Bruce Springsteen's Western Stars.

So excited was I for this record (based off the three singles released ahead of the album) that my routine yesterday morning was altered. I woke, started listening, and only then visited the restroom and snagged my coffee.

As of this writing, I've heard the album all the way through twice. Gorgeous music. So many things to say about this record the words are tumbling over each other. I'll have an in-depth review probably next week, but this is the Album of the Year for me. I can't imagine any other record can top this, especially the emotional reaction on first listen.

The fourth single, Western Stars, also dropped yesterday. Here's the video:

Year of an Indie Writer: Week 20

by
Scott D. Parker

It's all in the details.

Proofing the Hardcopy of Aztec Sword

Always, always order a hard copy of your books printed by Amazon.

When you create a paperback via Amazon (or IngramSpark), you are provided with a template. On the template are the bleed areas and the bar code space. It is incumbent on you to design your cover with those lines and boundaries in mind.

Amazon also has a great online viewer where you can proof your book electronically. It's good, because it has all the borders marked. But sometimes, you just need the paper.

Because of mistakes like this.

That's all on me. I got this text as close to the bar code as possible in my design program. Clearly, I got it too close. The spine's text also was misaligned, so I've got more than one thing to fix.

The interior is good. Vellum is a good program that takes care of all the little details so you don't have to. It also makes ebooks, so this is a key piece of software for any independent writer.

Oh, and Amazon now puts this banner across the whole cover.

The End of The Big Bang Theory

Strangely, I didn't watch this show out of the gate. I don't hardly watch anything live at 7pm CST. But when it finally landed on my radar, the family and I bought the DVDs and caught up. Ironically, we didn't watch live, but we watched both episodes on Thursday.

For many of these long-running shows, the characters face some big change and move out of the apartment or bar or whatever. But what I loved about the series finale of TBBT was that we now know things will continue just as they have for the past twelve years...we just won't be seeing their lives. Babies will be born, children will grow up in this wonderful make-shift family, and they finally have a working elevator. Come on. That's not a spoiler. You knew going in the thing would finally work.

Anyway, loved the finale. Well done.

Game of Thrones: Leave the Creators Alone

I love being a geek who has seen very little of this series. It just didn't do it for me. My wife enjoys it and, up until this month, always watched the shows via binging when HBO offered a week's worth of free programming. But for Mother's Day, I bought her HBO so she could watch the end live.

And I actually sat in for most of last week's episode. I'll also tune in tomorrow live. I think by Sunday, I'll have watched something like six or seven full episodes. With my wife's running commentary, I get caught up.

As a Star Wars fan who loved The Last Jedi and groused about those fans who signed petitions trying to get Disney to remake Episode VIII, I rolled my eyes this week as GOT fans wanted a do-over of this season.

Really?

I can imagine one day we'll have some famous author write a blockbuster book and they'll be fans demanding the publisher re-write it to their tastes. Sigh.

Always Have an Answer

Last week, at Houston's Comicpalooza, a friend of mine asked me why I haven't written any genre stories that would find a home at a geek convention. It was an honest question and one to which I didn't have a good and ready answer. I fell back on my humorous answer as to how I came up with my western hero, Calvin Carter: Growing up a SF geek kid, I discovered mystery fiction as an adult, so naturally I ended up writing a western.

It prompted me to examine my writing to date and I arrived at an answer: I enjoy writing thrillers, mysteries, and westerns.

But I think I'll be trying my hand at some SF before year's end. It might even be this summer.

Podcast of the Week

Blockbuster. It's fantastic. It is an immersive podcast, completed scripted like a radio show, about how Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, with John Williams, created their massive films of the 1970s. How good is this series? When Lucas and Spielberg face challenges to their productions, you can't help but be worried for them...and we KNOW the answer! Check it out.

Book of the Week

Marvel Comics: The Untold Story by Sean Howe. I bought this on Audible when it was a daily deal, but highly recommended...and I'm not even finished.

Song of the Week

Could it be anything other than the second single from Bruce Springsteen's new album? Just listen to the lush orchestration. And the chimes!

Year of an Indie Writer: Week 17

by
Scott D. Parker

Well, it turned out to be a writing-centric week, capped off by a triumvirate of awesomeness yesterday: finished a book, heard a new Springsteen song (something like 14 times), and watched the final movie a decade in the making.

Writing Tips Are Always Welcome

Four of the six posts since last week's entry of the Year of an Indie Writer series focused on learning. Dean Wesley Smith discussed how writers think they've gone the 'wrong' way with a story, but authors are often the worst judges of our own work. I experience that literally this month.

I revisited lessons from pulp fiction legend Frank Gruber, and ended the week talking about the things we can actually control (part 1 and part 2). There's only so much over which we writers have dominion and it's best not to worry about everything else. Easier said than done, sometimes, but it'll ultimately prove beneficial.

Aztec Sword is Done

I mentioned last week I finished proofing the latest Calvin Carter novel, but felt it needed another chapter. Actually, it turned into four. But the story now feels complete with an ending I like.

But it was touch and go for the first half of the week. With a "only one more chapter" mentality, I realized I couldn't fit in all I wanted in one chapter. That gave me some heartache because I was not going to change my publication date of 1 May.

And yesterday, I put the last period on the book. Whew!

But what is it about?

Aztec Sword Description

Actor turned detective Calvin Carter stands on his favorite place--a stage--when armed bandits attack. Carter and his partner, Thomas Jackson, foil the robbery, and the surviving gunman snitches the name of the mystery man who hired the gang.

Both men soon die, taking their secrets to the grave.

Turns out, the entire robbery was an elaborate distraction. In the melee, a master thief with a unique calling card swipes a prized artifact: a macuahuitl, an Aztec sword, dating back to the Spanish conquest of the New World.

But when Carter and Jackson are assigned to track down and recover the sword, those men who know about the macuahuitl start dying, one by one. If Carter and Jackson aren't careful, they will be next.

Bruce Springsteen's New Song: Hello Sunshine

Well, the contest for Favorite Song of 2019 is over.

One word review: Gorgeous.

It's been three years since I had an emotional reaction to a song on first listen. That one was joy. This one was simultaneously happy, melancholy, and nostalgic. It was like a song from my childhood, yet it's a tune my fifty-year-old self experienced for the first time. I didn't roll a tear, but they were in there. Beautiful song. Instant classic Springsteen song for me.

If this is any indication of how the rest of the new album is, then the contest for Favorite Album of 2019 is done.

Just listen.

Avengers: Endgame

Saw it.

Loved it.

Perfect ending to a decade of movies.

How's that for a spoiler-free review?

Tune in Tomorrow...

On my own blog, I'm writing about an album that turns 50.

Inspiration from The Boss

I felt a post on Springsteen on Memorial Day was fitting. Don't see the connection? Stay with me.

The other night, I stumbled across an old documentary on Bruce Springsteen. It was near the beginning, and quickly caught my attention. Here was a guy who skipped his own high school graduation, who they talked about being socially awkward.

And we all know how successful Springsteen has been.

I mean, can we even agree on his best song? For me?




Rolling Stone ranks it #28 of Bruce's top 100 hits.  I never seem to be very mainstream.

Brian might say...




#3 on that Rolling Stone list.


It wasn't just the music that caught my attention in this special. It was the substance. With two teenagers, one of whom has already been in the, "I hate school" state for what seems like forever, and the other has been feeling stressed and unhappy at school and socially lately.

They actually said they'd consider switching schools. And believe me, that's a sign that things are bad.

I rewound the program and started recording it, thinking that perhaps the kids would find some encouragement in knowing that someone who's gone on to be as successful as Springsteen wasn't always Mr. Popular.

Instead, the program took my respect for him to a whole new level, got me thinking about Memorial Day, and actually reassured me creatively.

Memorial Day, because in the wake of 9/11, Bruce Springsteen picked up the phone and called widows in New Jersey, and listened to people. He internalized all of that loss and the impact of that horrific day, and produced a remarkable album, that's been my favorite Springsteen for years.

Oddly enough, as a teenager, I'd fallen into the trap of perceiving him as jingoistic, and a little too "ra ra America" for my tastes. Perhaps that's something Americans can't fully understand, but the American psyche and patriotism is something I've explored in my marriage, and my day to day experience, and is something for another post, another day.

It takes really reading the lyrics to appreciate the message.

Born down in a dead man's town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog that's been beat too much
Till you spend half your life just covering up
Born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Got in a little hometown jam so they put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to a foreign land to go and kill the yellow man
Born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man says "son if it was up to me"
Went down to see my V.A. man
He said "son don't you understand now"
Had a brother at Khe Sahn fighting off the Viet Cong
They're still there he's all gone
He had a woman he loved in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms now
Down in the shadow of penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I'm ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run ain't got nowhere to go

It isn't the jingoistic anthem some believed it to be. It's a work that runs much deeper, that explores a failing of a society towards its own citizens. It's hard to see it as validation of the American dream; if anything, it seems rather hopeless upon examination of the lyrics. Although Springsteen did not fight in Vietnam because he failed his medical, he's carried some sense of understanding of the price of war on those who have, and it's been reflected in his music.

What's curious is that the same album produced songs like Dancing in the Dark, and one of my other personal favorites, Glory Days - another song that's nostalgic, yes, but hardly idealistic and optimistic.




I think one of the things that really struck me about Springsteen when I was watching the documentary was how diverse his music is. I should know - I do not own Born in the USA (though I should) but I do own Devils and Dust, and The Ghost of Tom Joad.

And my personal favorites?





In light of recent events, how could anyone talk about the problems in Baltimore and Ferguson without thinking of this Springsteen classic?

When I listen to Springsteen, there is a sense of nostalgia. Not because the music has aged. Rather, it's got a timelessness to it that makes it as relevant today as it was when it was recorded and released. The nostalgia is for the delight of walking to town and going to the furniture store, which had a selection of records (yes, records!) at the back, and coming home with that new prize. It was for the incredible sense of discovery of the B sides, the songs you weren't hearing on the radio, that curiously almost always seemed to resonate with me even more than the singles.

It reminded me of how much I appreciate an artist who has depth and range, who doesn't produce different versions of the same album over and over again. Springsteen may not have been hanging out with the cool kids in high school, but by digging deep within himself and baring his soul through his music, and not being afraid to write and sing about issues that were important to him and his convictions, he's been able to connect with a far greater audience worldwide.

I found the show inspiring, and reassuring.

You see, for quite some time now, the only projects I've been dabbling with have fallen well outside of my main genre focus, and I've struggled with that. I'd never want crime fiction fans to feel I have anything other than the deepest respect for them, but I also want the freedom to explore new themes and to do that through other genres where appropriate.

When I watched the special on Springsteen, I remembered that a career is made of much more than top 10 hits, and it all has value. People are more than one interest, more than one style, more than one show or type of music they like. We're a collection of pieces that somehow mesh together. I can love Bloodlines and love Orphan Black and The 100, and there's nothing contradictory in saying that, because people are complex.

Oddly enough, Victor Gischler posted something on Facebook that resonated with me, and ties in to my thoughts for this post:

One of those days where I look at my body of work and wonder what the hell am I doing career wise? Don't get my wrong, not a pity thing or self doubt thing. Nothing like that. But I'm all over the damn place. Crime, satire post apocalypse, pulp sci-fi, relatively straight forward fantasy. It's like I'm daring readers to keep up with me which is probably not the best business model.

Somehow, through all of this, I realized I didn't have to try to 'fit in' or feel restricted by genre. I can push the boundaries. Heaven help me, I don't mean transcend the genre, because I don't feel crime fiction is second to anything. I just mean move outside what's typically expected and incorporate elements from anything appropriate.

After all, if we feel trapped inside expectations, don't we run the risk of being stagnate?

I think the only crime is producing something predictable.

And perhaps this feels like a series of disjointed random thoughts, but in my mind before I sat down at the computer, my tribute to The Boss was grander, and it all connected for me.

Tonight our bed is cold
I'm lost in the darkness of our love
God have mercy on the man
Who doubts what he's sure of

Read more: Bruce Springsteen - Brilliant Disguise Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Come Sail Away

Shhhh.

Come closer.

That's it. Just lean in a little bit more. Wait.

Are you sure you're alone?

Just take a quick peek.... No, I won't talk louder. This is going to be our little secret.

It's just us?

Okay. Lean over. Let me whisper in your ear. Ready?

I'm sick of formulaic $h!t.

And it's all Brian's fault.

The other day, we were driving home and a song came on the radio. One Brian wanted to hear. We were close to the house, so he ended up driving around for a while so that he could make it to that moment. You know the one. That identifiable moment in a song when it kicks into high gear and grabs you.

Man, I love it when a song does that for me. Starts off slow, quiet. Lures you in, gets you inside it, and then BAM! It has you by the throat and won't let go. And I bet every single person reading this can think of a song like that, a song that gets them every time. For Brian, it was Come Sail Away. For me, King of Pain.

Amongst others. The more subtle touch of L'Affaire Dumoutier...

Who can deny the brilliant execution of Copperhead Road?

Or the execution of The Rising?

As we drove around just so that Brian could hear the song kick into high gear, it got me thinking, and it got me thinking about formula, predictability, and ultimately, writing.

Yes, there are limits to how we can approach telling a story, but why is it every blurb or review seems to suggest the action starts word 1, page 1, and doesn't let up until the end? Why, especially in crime fiction, is there so much pressure on that opening line of the book? Grab your reader in 30 seconds, or you won't get a chance to grab them at all?

Is everyone reading crime afflicted with ADHD?

Hey, I really don't mean to be too flip about that. Outside of writing, most of my adult life has been spent working with students who have ADHD, amongst other challenges. But I think that's what doubly frustrates me when it comes to the writing. No, I don't think a book should be completely boring and pointless and spend page upon page meandering to nowhere at the beginning...

But is the idea of heating steadily to a boil really such a bad thing?

Sandra Seamans and I seemed to be having the similar thoughts.

That pattern of sameness thrives in the marketplace. Pick up a copy of EQ or AHMM and you can almost always tell how every story is going to end. It's like reading an episode of "Murder She Wrote". I think that's one reason I enjoy anthologies. Yes, there is that genre sameness, but a good editor will find stories that step beyond that sameness into new territory.

I adore writers who can surprise me with each new story. Stephen King collections are a good example. His stories, while wrapped in the cloak of horror, step into the crime and sci-fi genres. His endings vary from the twist, to the gotcha, to the yeah, it needed to end that way. You never know how one of his shorts is going to end so you're never bored.

I adore those writers, too. I want to get something in my hands that's fresh. All too often, I think new writers are under the wrong pressure, to define themselves by having a character with some quirk or distinction that's going to set them apart. It's becoming more of the same. Got to be an alcoholic or a pill popper or a narcoleptic or suffering from a chronic skin fungus...

When was the last time you read a book with a protagonist who actually sounded kind of, you know, normal? When was the last time you read about a main character who got along with his mother, or liked something normal, like sports, or actually took a day off? Is it possible to present such a character in a compelling story that doesn't have to follow the Three Act Structure?

Several years ago, I took a creative writing diploma. I now tutor aspiring writers for the same school. As a student, I eventually learned that I had to throw some of the curriculum advice out the window and do things my own way. I realized that they had to teach us to pre-plot novels, because you can. Teaching someone to write by the seat of their pants? Almost impossible.

Here's how it happened. I'd started a manuscript. I was feeling pretty good about it. My tutor had nothing but good things to say. I'd done what I was told, outlined it, and written the opening chapters. I was about 90 pages along when I moved.

And lost the outline. And got discouraged. And convinced myself the manuscript wasn't worth finishing.

It was almost a year before I went back to the pages I'd written, and had to admit that they were pretty good. Why shouldn't I finish the book?

No outline.

Okay. So I went to the text of what I'd written, and decided to figure things out as I went along. I have no idea what I originally intended the story to be, who was guilty of what and how it all unfolded, but I finished it.

My first finished manuscript. (Because there's another that's about three pages from being done that actually predates this, but remains unfinished to this day.)

Then I edited it. And edited some more. And kept tweaking. I added a whole subplot on the third draft.

I've been thinking about that first finished manuscript a lot lately, because I recently regained my rights to the book. Yes, it was my first published book. It won a writing contest, placed in another international competition, and enabled me (after countless rejections) to finally land an agent and a bigger publisher.

When I started going over the manuscript a few weeks ago to reformat it for Kindle release, I went through all the usual thoughts authors have when they read an earlier work. What was I thinking? That's a bit wordy.

I also had some other thoughts, about the fact that I'd featured two protagonists who were genuinely decent people. Real. The kind of people who really could live next door, and you'd like them if they did. They're... normal.

But I don't think they're boring, and while the book may not start off with a cop chasing a perp down a dark alley with a gun, or the discovery of a body, or an assault, I think that's a good thing.

It starts off different. Subtle. Quiet. It starts off with a bit of bass before it lets loose on the drums.

Every time I sit down to write, I try to push myself to do something different. Even if I only change one thing in my approach to the character or the storytelling, my goal is to never grow complacent. I'm sick of having next to nothing to watch on TV because it's predictable, and I'm tired of formulaic books.

And now that SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES is legally free and clear and back in my hands, I can admit I'm proud of my debut. Sure, I wish I knew some of the writing tricks I know now back when I was writing it, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a book that's unlike anything I was reading at the time, and stands on its own, with two protagonists I'm hoping to spend more time with again very soon.

Within the next few days, SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES should be live and available of Amazon's Kindle story for 99 cents. I'm in the home stretch, hoping to catch any technical formatting glitches first, but will update my website as soon as the book's available. Look for more information Friday when I guest blog here.

Long Walk Home

By Jay Stringer

Time to check off another of Dave’s list of blog cliché’s. I’m going to write about tone of my favourite musicians.

Our relationships with art change over time; our states evolve and expand. Sometimes they narrow. Something that you liked ten years ago might be something that you hate as an adult. In another ten years you may like it again.

That said I couldn’t imagine any point in that timelines when I’ll accept Hootie and/Or The Blowfish.

But something that fascinates me is those artists who stay with you, the touchstones. Sometimes it’s out of nostalgia. I can always put on Heartbreaker and be transported back to the early hours of the morning when I was 20/21 and heard it for the first time. I sat up until sunrise playing it over and over again. It doesn’t really matter that I have little time or taste for what Ryan Adams became after that point, I still have that album to act as a transporter. Likewise anytime I listen to The Clash there’s always going to be a part of me that’s back in my in bedroom at my patents house, getting ready for a night out.

Bands, too. My friends may get sick of my obsessive love for Ned’s Atomic Dustbin, and the pilgrimages to their annual gigs, but it taps into something from another time. It’s reminding me of where I’ve come from, not where I’m going.

But there are some artists whose places in my heart have evolved as I have. They’re still just as important to me; their songs still resonate as strongly within me, but sometimes for different reasons. I can barely imagine what it must be like for these guys, to still be singing songs they wrote when they were 24. The meaning surely must shift for them, too?

Interestingly, for me at least, is the way I’ve been looking at them recently. As I shift more and more into being a writer, I’ve found that I analyse a different aspect of these songs and artists. You guys came very close today to an epic essay that also talked about Waits and Westerberg, but I thought I’d give you an edited version.

Bruce Springsteen.

Growing up smack in the middle of England, and coming of age during brit-pop, it was never cool to like Bruce Springsteen. I’ve treated the return of the ‘Boss’ persona to pop culture these last few years with a degree of mistrust, simply because it feels so different to what I knew. The rockers in the midlands were too busy wearing black and learning riffs, the brit-pop guys were too busy wanting to be Lads or art students, and everyone else was just too straight faced. Bruce was just some strange sweaty guy, who was only half remembered for a few pop hits that nobody understood, and he was way to open and sincere for my friends British souls to cope with. What I saw as a teenager was the fun, and the spontenanety. I saw cool lyrics, and, nice sounding guitar. It was just so different to everything else around me. And it was the anti-cool. That was probably very important to me at the time. And, okay, he sang about strange places in New Jersey, and some thing called a ‘highway’, but growing up in a region that had been decimated by the death of engineering, industry and coal mines, I didn’t have a hard time transplanting his world into mine.

Later on, as a budding (re: pathetic) musician, it was his craft that I grew to like. The way he owned the stage and the work that he put into it. And the Telecaster. Man, it never seems okay to say this, but that guy can play. Listening to that guitar on Darkness On The Edge Of Town, and the live bootlegs from that era, was a whole new guitar sound for me. He never showed it off. He never manufactured an image of being a ‘guitar god’, but it was clear that in the few moments he chose to let rip, there were few who could live with him. And that restraint was something I liked, that ability to choose which approach best serves the message. That’s something that’s become far more important as I’ve grown.

Lately what it is that resonates with me? Well, it’s still his craft in many ways, but from different point of view. Looking at my relationship with his music is in many ways like looking at the history of rock’n’roll. It was escapism and rebellion. There were other forms of music for telling stories or spreading messages. Bur rock’n’roll grew out of lust, and dreams, and youth, and all of those things that bundle up tight in your belly when you’re 16. It was about a lie, and escapism. Springsteen was one of the people who brought it down to earth and connected it again with reality. There was a disconnect between what went on in pop and rock songs, and what people actually encountered in real life, and he was one of the songwriters who realised that and bridged the gap.

His first two albums had been free-wheeling affairs, jangling guitars and freestyle music, beat poets, circus acrobats and kids standing under street corners waiting for that one perfect kiss. But as he gained more focus, and found something new in his voice as a writer, things changed. Born To Run as an album started to bridge the gap between everything that rock had promised, and the things it had failed to deliver. It was an album about making choices. There was an acceptance of compromise and a need for simple survival in lines like; “show a little faith, there’s magic in the night, you aint a beauty but hey, you’re all right”

Then with Darkness On The Edge Of Town the darkness of the title seemed to come in the form of Bruce’s dwindling twenties. He reached that point and wrote about it. Suddenly he was singing about trying “to get away without getting hurt” and about reliving the same trap day after day and night after night. Through it all though, and this is where he differs from the many imitators, he found a defiance, and some lingering hope. It was music about living with the choices that you’ve made. He sang about there being a meanness in the world, and having "debts that no honest man can pay," but through it all, the words and the songs found some reason to believe. And it felt –and feels- real. Over the years he’s expanded. He’s researched about immigrants and poverty and given us character studies, he’s been through divorce and sung about the dark side of love, and he resurrected ‘The Boss’ in a decade that needed some large music about redemption.

He put out an album about 9/11. And while everyone else who had tried fell into the ‘worthy trap’, with tub-thumping our heart-on-sleeves rock, he did what a writer should do; he looked at people. He wrote about people surviving after something awful has happened.

And his drive to be the best he can doesn’t always lead him down a popular path. He was nearly jeered off stage in the early 2000's for performing American Skin, a song about an immigrant who was shot 41 times by plain clothes police. It was a song that tried to chart the tension minority communities and the police, and it was a bold move for an artist who would have stopped making such moves a long time ago. Add a few extra word and characters, and you have the basis of a George Pelecanos book.

“Lena gets her son ready for school

She says "on these streets, Charles

You've got to understand the rules

If an officer stops you

Promise me you'll always be polite,

That you'll never ever run away

Promise Mama you'll keep your hands in sight”

I realised much later on, that part of the image problem he had when I was young was because of his imitators. Out of his particular and unique voice grew a genre. There have been stadium arena’s packed out for over thirty years now with musicians singing about being half way there, or living on prayers. Their fists thump the air with their worthiness. On a smaller scale, there are any countless number of musicians who plod a particular path, that has become somewhere near to the middle of the road while they sing about important issues. Hell, I’ve not been shy in my opinion that the album Bruce put out last year was nothing but a tribute to this kind of music, even down to it’s title Working On A Dream. The ‘worthy trap’ is a tiresome one.

But none of this takes away from what he’s done, and the body of work he can look back on. The Cryuff turn could only really be carried off by Cryuff. Marlowe could only be done by Chandler. Stew could only be done by my Nan. Anybody else trying it is like a writer who is aping someone else’s voice.

Where am I going with this? Well, a phrase thrown about often here on DSD is social fiction. We quite like to drop that into conversation, and with good cause. Writers like Pelecanos get the props that they do because of the life they can capture on the page. It’s not the fantasy of Chandler, nor the despair of Goodis. It’s something that bridges the gap, and lends weight to the stories and life to the characters.

And this is what I get from Springsteen. It’s social fiction with guitar.