Bruce Springsteen Book, The Light in Darkness; Fans on the Magical Tour of 1978

The Light in Darkness

Nothing is forgotten or forgiven,
when it’s your last time around,
I got stuff running ’round my head

That I just can’t live down
– Bruce Springsteen, 1978

Buy this glossy book for the holidays written by the people who love and feel changed by the music.

I used to wonder vaguely in my mid-teens why everyone in the world was not instantly transformed to a place of paradise after listening to the consecutive songs of Something in the Night and Candy’s Room on Springsteen’s Darkness on the Edge of Town (1978).

Check out ‘The Light in Darkness’, the collection of fan reactions to Bruce’s 1978 tour, with shots of grit and raw truth that is the music of Bruce’s very best album. In my opinion, Darkness is in fact the very best piece of music ever recorded, what Pete Townsend called a “f*&king triumph,” … a piece of literature and art that lives forever.


‘With ‘Darkness on the Edge of Town’ Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band took a stand at a time and place where everything was on the line,’ writes Vike Savoth in the foreword to ‘The Light in Darkness.’ ‘They were prepared to pay the price of hurtling headlong into rock and roll oblivion by walking away from the sound and look that took them to the heights of fame and fortune.’

 With more than 200 photos and 100 original stories penned by Springsteen’s legendary fans, ‘The Light in Darkness’ is a look at Springsteen’s fourth album, ‘Darkness on the Edge of Town,’ from the fan’s perspective.

Often overlooked in favor of other classic Springsteen records, ‘Darkness on the Edge of Town’ provided a much rawer and angrier sound than anything Springsteen had done previously. Coming at the end of a bitter, three-year legal battle with Springsteen’s first manager, the album’s darker sound was difficult at first for many fans and critics to grasp.

By Suzanne Scala

I spent those years in between [Born to Run and Darkness] waiting for his return, both sonically and in the flesh. And when he did return, a changed man, a grownup with a new anger and dissonance to his sound, I felt bereft. I had to fucking adjust.

I mean, I really had to listen to that album, hard, over and over again, to find where I could meet him, or really, where he was meeting me. This was when listening to an album meant lying on the floor, head between your speakers, dropping that needle over and over to play that song again and again. Skipping this one or that one, it’s formulaic and tired, or is it? Play it again and realize, no, there’s something different here.

And when I listen now, I can hear it all. The genius of that album. The anger and the disenchantment. And the rage in those guitars!  

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