Danny Clinch
Bruce Springsteen delivered the keynote address at SXSW.
AUSTIN -- In a deeply personal keynote address to the South By Southwest Conference, Bruce Springsteen spoke passionately about the music that had had a profound impact on his own writing. The Boss rhapsodized about Elvis, James Brown, the Animals, and the Beatles, and the anecdotes he told about his encounters with each were revealing, mesmerizing, and sometimes hilarious. But it was the story of his awakening to Woody Guthrie's work that tells the most about how Springsteen's writing has changed over the last twenty years, and where he's likely to going next.
Springsteen conceded that he had no interest in becoming a resurrection of Woody Guthrie, who never had a hit record or a platinum disc. "I liked the luxuries and comforts of being a star," he told the capacity crowd in the Convention Center ballroom. But after reading Joe Klein's "Woody Guthrie: A Life" in his early 30s, the Boss felt he'd obtained a strategy for shaping the form he loved -- pop music -- into something that could address grown-up problems.
According to Springsteen, he'd first fallen for the stories -- and the hard stoicism -- of country music. But even as he was attracted to the fatalism of country artists like Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis, he found something toxic about those singers' resignation to cruel fate. The Boss wanted an answer to the implicit question posed in Williams' "My Bucket's Got a Hole in It": why, he wondered, were hard times permanent for working men and women? In Guthrie's work, he found a way forward: "fatalism tempered by a practical idealism," and a conviction that "speaking truth to power wasn't futile."
Guthrie, who would have been 100 this year, has been a touchstone for many SXSW artists. At St. David's Bethel Hall, the Grammy museum will soon present an entire evening's worth of fifteen minute tribute sets to the folksinger; Garland Jeffries, David Garza, and Woody's son Arlo are among the artists participating. A panel discussion on Guthrie's persistent significance followed on the heels of Springsteen's keynote. And just before the Boss spoke, Jimmy LaFave, Eliza Gilkyson, and Colombian pop star Juanes performed an impassioned set of Guthrie covers and music inspired by his vision. The speech was effectively framed by singalong versions of "This Land Is Your Land," including a striking rendition by Springsteen himself.
But even if it hadn't been, LaFave and Gilkyson's warm-up would have put Springsteen's recent writing in context. On albums like "Devils and Dust," "The Ghost of Tom Joad," and especially the recent "Wrecking Ball," the Boss' Guthrie influence is profoundly felt. Springsteen echoes Guthrie's cadences, finishes many of his arguments, and returns, often, to his favorite themes: predatory bankers ("Death to My Hometown"), the plight of migrant workers ("The New Timer"), the cruelty of deportation and immigration policy ("Matamoros Banks"), and our shared and interconnected humanity (just about the entire "Rising" album). Springsteen has even adopted Guthrie's fascination with the desert.
At the Apollo Theater, Springsteen spoke often about the costs of the recession and the growing divide between the richest and the poorest. He sounded very much like Guthrie. With little left to prove and loads of money in the bank, the Boss no longer has any incentive to hold his tongue. The confrontational, politicized lyrics on "Wrecking Ball" do not seem to have hampered his selling power, anyway: on Wednesday, the new set made its debut atop the Billboard charts. Expect Guthrie's influence on Springsteen's artistry to wax powerfully over the next few months.
Springsteen conceded that he had no interest in becoming a resurrection of Woody Guthrie, who never had a hit record or a platinum disc. "I liked the luxuries and comforts of being a star," he told the capacity crowd in the Convention Center ballroom. But after reading Joe Klein's "Woody Guthrie: A Life" in his early 30s, the Boss felt he'd obtained a strategy for shaping the form he loved -- pop music -- into something that could address grown-up problems.
According to Springsteen, he'd first fallen for the stories -- and the hard stoicism -- of country music. But even as he was attracted to the fatalism of country artists like Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis, he found something toxic about those singers' resignation to cruel fate. The Boss wanted an answer to the implicit question posed in Williams' "My Bucket's Got a Hole in It": why, he wondered, were hard times permanent for working men and women? In Guthrie's work, he found a way forward: "fatalism tempered by a practical idealism," and a conviction that "speaking truth to power wasn't futile."
Guthrie, who would have been 100 this year, has been a touchstone for many SXSW artists. At St. David's Bethel Hall, the Grammy museum will soon present an entire evening's worth of fifteen minute tribute sets to the folksinger; Garland Jeffries, David Garza, and Woody's son Arlo are among the artists participating. A panel discussion on Guthrie's persistent significance followed on the heels of Springsteen's keynote. And just before the Boss spoke, Jimmy LaFave, Eliza Gilkyson, and Colombian pop star Juanes performed an impassioned set of Guthrie covers and music inspired by his vision. The speech was effectively framed by singalong versions of "This Land Is Your Land," including a striking rendition by Springsteen himself.
But even if it hadn't been, LaFave and Gilkyson's warm-up would have put Springsteen's recent writing in context. On albums like "Devils and Dust," "The Ghost of Tom Joad," and especially the recent "Wrecking Ball," the Boss' Guthrie influence is profoundly felt. Springsteen echoes Guthrie's cadences, finishes many of his arguments, and returns, often, to his favorite themes: predatory bankers ("Death to My Hometown"), the plight of migrant workers ("The New Timer"), the cruelty of deportation and immigration policy ("Matamoros Banks"), and our shared and interconnected humanity (just about the entire "Rising" album). Springsteen has even adopted Guthrie's fascination with the desert.
At the Apollo Theater, Springsteen spoke often about the costs of the recession and the growing divide between the richest and the poorest. He sounded very much like Guthrie. With little left to prove and loads of money in the bank, the Boss no longer has any incentive to hold his tongue. The confrontational, politicized lyrics on "Wrecking Ball" do not seem to have hampered his selling power, anyway: on Wednesday, the new set made its debut atop the Billboard charts. Expect Guthrie's influence on Springsteen's artistry to wax powerfully over the next few months.
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