ABSTRACT
In the summer of 1984, America’s foremost working-class hero stood on stage, dwarfed by an enormous Patton-like flag, pounding the air with his fist like it mattered. Tens of thousands of voices united to chant the chorus of the most popular song of the summer, the year, and the decade: “Born in the USA.” The audience’s repeated cries of the famous chorus sometimes drowned out the E Street Band itself, bringing pitch to an event that was equal parts rock concert, spiritual revival, and nationalist rally. In place of the skinny greaser-poet of his earlier tours, Bruce Springsteen had been remade into a superhero version of himself, his new pumped-up body covered in exaggerated layers of denim and leather, his biceps working his ’52 Fender Esquire like a jackhammer. Fists and flags were thrown into the air at the first hint of the famous melody as thousands of bodies shadow-boxed the empty space above the crowd to the rhythm of the song. Whether one chose to compare the spectacle to the horror of a Nuremburg Rally or the freedom of an Elvis Presley show, the intensity of the 1984 tour made rock and roll feel almost powerful again—more like a cause than an escape.
