Elvis Ate Dynamite

As I mentioned yesterday, we finally got around to seeing Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, the biopic that covers the period when Bruce recorded and released the solo, mostly acoustic Nebraska LP. For us old timers, that album holds a special place in our hearts.

But, as I said, the movie is about more than making a record. It’s also about struggling with mental illness and accepting help. And, as with so many of us, the vehicle that guided Bruce down that path was friendship. Specifically, his friendship with his manager, John Landau, and his childhood friend, Matt Delia. 

Landau, in particular, accepts Bruce for who he is and supports him without reservation on the bizarre journey that led to releasing Nebraska as Bruce originally recorded it — a four-track demo on a cassette tape without a cover. But as supportive as Landau is in the film, he doesn’t enable Bruce’s mental illness. He listens without judgment, but also watches Bruce closely. He chooses his words carefully. And, most importantly, when Delia calls Landau from a payphone after Bruce has a breakdown, for lack of a better term, on the road to California, Landau has the courage to tell Bruce: You need professional help.

That’s not some reality TV nonsense. That’s true friendship. You cannot develop that level of trust and credibility without being extraordinarily close to someone. The proof of that is this: Bruce takes his advice and starts seeing a therapist.

The funny thing is, I always credited artists like Bruce Springsteen with keeping me sane during those challenging teenage years when I didn’t know who or what I was, other than someone who didn’t fit in and always felt out of place. Because his music was all about being an outsider and not fitting in, and knowing that somebody like Bruce understood what that felt like … man, that was powerful.  

In the end, of course, he wrote those songs because he was just like the rest of us, except that he was a better storyteller. He was an outsider. He didn’t know where he fit in. But he had enduring friendships that helped him navigate that path and finally get help.

A few months ago, my wife and I were driving back from our old stomping grounds after spending a few hours with some friends I’ve known since I was in high school nearly 50 years ago. It’s a long drive back to our place in the far northern suburbs of Chicago. But, anyway, there were were, in the car, and it suddenly dawned on me that this group of friends with very disparate backgrounds and life experiences were the people who helped me navigate a similar path. They were and are friends to the core. No judgment. Just friendship and support. They always met me where I was and never asked me to be someone I wasn’t. 

What an extraordinary thing. 

Like Bruce, it took me a long time to sort things out and fix things that needed fixing. And like Bruce, I was lucky enough to have friends who gave me the time and space to figure it all out. Well, to figure most of it out, anyway. There’s always more work to do.