Bruce Springsteen and 'Thunder Road' Through the Years

One of the things that defines great art is not only that it hangs around for a long time, that people still want to see a play hundreds of years after it was first performed or read a book that was written thousands of years ago, but that that art morphs and develops alongside our own lives changing, not only staying relevant, but becoming more relevant as we ourselves change.

And so to Bruce Springsteen and, in this case, Thunder Road.

There is an amazing supercut moving around the Internet that shows 41 years of Bruce performing the same song, seamlessly arranged in chronological order. There's Bruce in the 1970s all young and brash, there's the buffed up Bruce of the 80s, the introspective Bruce of the 90s forward. Along the way E Street Band members come and go, most notably Clarence Clemons (RIP) and newcomers like Nils Lofgren and Springsteen's wife. The presence of the latter in the band speaks much to the changes of time.

But there is also that song.

I was in high school when I first heard Thunder Road. Living outside Cleveland, Ohio, we found Born to Run on our radio a bit earlier than most folks outside of the Jersey Shore itself. At a time in my life when music was dominated by pop garbage and metal (both have their place), here was a song that put into words what I wasn't able to do myself: the need to get out of a town full of losers, the promise of talking a pretty girl into climbing into your car and taking off to, well, anywhere, that sense of something out there you needed to see.

Some 40 years later, I still listen to Thunder Road, having left that town, seen some of what there was to see, but at the same time knowing maybe I'm not that young anymore, and that there are some roads I am probably just not going to get down. In an era of cynical politics, the line about waiting on a savior to rise from the streets rings strong, yet also sad.

I think I can hear it in Bruce's lyrics, I'm certain I can see it on his face and hear it in his voice, and I'm glad he stays (virtually) on the ride with me, desperate and hopeful at the same time.