Happy
40th birthday to "Born to Run."
I'm sure I've said it here before many times, but as overplayed as the title track may be, this is perhaps one of the lyrically best albums of the rock era. Oh, sure, I can hear the sneering about Marys, and Wendys, and Sandys, but the sneerers can bit me.
The album starts with its best song ("Thunder Road") - a love poem from a boy who wants to see the world to an uncertain girl, nervous about whether she can trust the boy* and his promises of a better life some place else. And it ends with its second best song ("Jungleland"), the epic tale of the Magic Rat trying to find love with a barefoot girl drinking beer on a summer evening, but losing his life instead.
Anyway, carry on.
*
I mean, can you blame her? He says "you ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright" WTF? I know dudes who have said similar things, but wow.
