Perhaps one of the more wearying aspects of these plague years that we live in is the threadbare, hand-me-down “American Dream” for which we’re expected to give thanks. It’s not just W. I feel like things have sucked for a long time. I remember when our dear leader’s daddy was in power. I did a stint at Central Junior High between 1990 and 1992. In the eighth grade, I had my one and only encounter with a District #194 guidance counselor. The meeting was mostly perfunctory, but I do remember that it yielded this nugget, “You grades are good. You can go to any school you want. Stay in college as long as possible. When you get out, you’ll be flipping burgers.” A thousand points of light, indeed.
When I think about my completely typical Midwestern childhood, a lot of the visual images are scenes from the yellowy, florescent-lit Zayre’s toy aisle, the ransacked, brown-carpeted shoe department at Venture where trying on a pair meant shuffling very slowly so as not to break the translucent plastic tie that bound the shoes together. Perhaps my mother is a champion shopper, but a lot of my memories are about the pursuit of bargain-priced consumer goods.
The other thing from my childhood that helped tarnish the “American Dream” for me is Bruce Springsteen. My pops is a Springsteen partisan from way back. I’ve always liked Springsteen. The River and Born in the USA soundtracked my formative experiences with rock and roll. As a result, I’ve got a massive soft spot for strident, meat-and-taters rock music about eking out small, pyrrhic victories in the face of an existence that will not stop until you’re ground into a small pile of indeterminately colored dust to be Hoovered up by the hired help at the start of the next shift.
The Drive-by Truckers are a Springsteenian band. They write songs that read like short stories. They write songs (whole albums, in fact) about the transformative experiences they had with rock and roll as young fans. They trade in mythology and allusion. Their act contains a bit of schtick and a bit of nostalgia, but also a whole lot of serious craft and sincerity.
The moral and philosophical core of the Trucker’s outstanding Brighter Than Creation’s Dark is the Boss-worthy Patterson Hood song “The Righteous Path.” I don’t mean to discount Mike Cooley’s down-and-out grotesques/burlesques or Shonna Tucker’s slow-burners, or Hood’s other well-crafted laments and story songs.
The song itself is mostly a simple, crunchy stomp backing a string of rhyming couplets that deliver a litany of mounting concerns. As such it resembles a number of Springsteen’s workingman’s laments.
“The Righteous Path”
I got a couple of opinions that I hold dear
A whole lot of debt and a whole lot of fear
I got an itch that needs scratching but it feels alright
I got the need to blow it out on Saturday night
I got a grill in the backyard and a case of beers
I got a boat that ain’t seen the water in years
More bills than money, I can do the math
I’m trying to keep focused on the righteous path
“Born in the USA”
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
…
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”
“Atlantic City”
Well I got a job and tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man can pay
So I drew what I had from the Central Trust
And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus
“Johnny 99″
Now judge judge I had debts no honest man could pay
The bank was holdin’ my mortgage and they was takin’ my house away
Now I ain’t sayin’ that makes me an innocent man
But it was more ‘n all this that put that gun in my hand
“The Promised Land”
I’ve done my best to live the right way
I get up every morning and go to work each day
But your eyes go blind and your blood runs cold
Sometimes I feel so weak I just want to explode
Explode and tear this whole town apart
Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart
Find somebody itching for something to start
Common between “The Righteous Path” and the smattering of Springsteen samples I’ve listed is a frustration that right living (”the righteous path,” “liv[ing] the right way…get[ting] up every morning and go[ing] to work each day”) is no match for a stacked socio-economic deck and consumer concerns (boats, houses, grills, debts, etc.) that just seem to pile up with every rhyming couplet. In fact, the Truckers’ “More bills than money, I can do the math” is almost an identical sentiment to Springsteen’s “I got debts that no honest man can pay.”
In a way, “The Righteous Path” is a sequel/remake to the gripes of Springsteen’s desperate men going under — which makes sense given that the folks presiding over the social, economic, and military free fall learned at the feet of the folks whose policies fueled Springsteen’s vision of the American Dream gone dark.
As I grew beyond childhood and into my teenage years, I continued to listen to Springsteen because I like the albums and because I like his band and because his songs help me make emotional sense of what I know about recent social history. The River and Darkness on the Edge of Town and Nebraska give me an idea of how it feels to be hemmed in by circumstance and economics and the cruel times into which you’re born. Not a whole lot has changed. Unfortunately, Brighter Than Creation’s Dark and specifically “The Righteous Path” is an all-too-true document of what it feels like to be living here in the USofA circa 2008.
