bruce beds a classic car

Sometimes my musical myopia astounds me. Seeing as I long ago hypnotized myself into thinking I’m an authority of some kind in all things rock (I’m wrong, of course; New York tends to humble the prideful), I’ve become that asshole who utters inanities such as this without batting an eyelash:

“Bruce Springsteen? Ehhh. I mean, I guess his quiet, contemplative stuff deserves attention. Nebraska's 'State Trooper' (1982) is admittedly flawless, as is ‘I’m On Fire.’ A few other tracks warrant repeat listens. Vocally, he did some interesting things on ‘Streets Of Philadelphia,’ what with that chopped, restrained delivery. e.e. cummings probably would have appreciated Bruce’s curious line breaks. Very poetic. His louder cuts, though--all those bombastic, 4/4, arena anthems--bore the hell outta me. ‘Glory Days’ and ‘Born To Run’ receive far too much credit from the listening community, seeing as both are oversimplified rock songs tailored for mass consumption. Spare me the blue-collar, bolt-turning sentiment, Bruce.”

(I’m not this eloquent, of course. In truth, it comes out like this:)

“Bruce? Not a big fan. I like ‘I’m On Fire’ and ‘State Trooper.’ Spare me the rest.”

Satisfied with Me, and Myself, and My Smug Analysis Of Bruce’s Merits And Demerits, I pronounce my verdict with the finality of a--well, a sentencing. And why wouldn’t I? I’m right. Bruce gets the ol’ Side Thumb.

Then, as tends to happen, I encounter a track/album that negates all my original premises; now there's a foot in my mouth, and it don't taste none too good. So it goes. (Note to KP: Glad you picked up on KV. Rock star.)

that track/
was Pink Cadillac

Holy Jamole! Have you people heard this thing? Bruce freakin’ nails it! Rock and roll never sounded so good!

There I was, fine-toothing my music collection so that I might assemble a listenable, digestible playlist for Friday’s DJ set, when I rediscovered this slumbering ox. (I'd previously dismissed it as a Paint By Numbers snoozefest.) What a track! Never even made it onto a proper record, if you can believe it. Instead, the song was shoved off to the B-Side of “Dancing In The Dark,” Bruce’s most successful single off Born In The U.S.A. (1984).

Other day, I found myself in my friend Lucas’ room. We were sharing tunes, as is our custom.

Me: “Lucas, I’m going nuts over Springsteen’s ‘Pink Cadillac.’ The rhythm section is mindblowing.”
Lucas: “Oh man! Great song! Play it now!”

So I did. We bobbed and nodded and smiled and said things like “Damn!” and "Yes!”

Lucas: “Dude, have you ever considered that this song might be all about sex? Think about it…”

So we listened to a few lyrics. Even looked ‘em all up online. I still wasn’t convinced.

Me: “Eh, you may be overreaching here. I get the whole car-as-sex metaphor, but it seems a little forced in this case. I think he was talking about soda fountain, poodle skirt, Make-Out Point America. I mean, ‘Waving to the girls/Spending all my money on a Saturday night?’ That’s pretty ambiguous. A pink Cadillac would fit into that whole scheme. You know, kind of like a Pleasantville vibe, or something. Maybe I’m wrong, but…”

We reached no resolution.

Then I went home, listened up some more, revisited the lyrics. Here they are:

You may think I'm foolish
For the foolish things I do
You may wonder how come I love you
When you get on my nerves like you do
Well baby you know you bug me
There ain't no secret 'bout that
Well come on over here and hug me
Baby I'll spill the facts
Well honey it ain't your money
'Cause baby I got plenty of that
I love you for your pink Cadillac
Crushed velvet seats
Riding in the back
Oozing down the street
Waving to the girls
Feeling out of sight
Spending all my money
On a Saturday night
Honey I just wonder what you do there in back
Of your pink Cadillac
Pink Cadillac

Well now way back in the Bible
Temptations always come along
There's always somebody tempting
Somebody into doing something they know is wrong
Well they tempt you, man, with silver
And they tempt you, sir, with gold
And they tempt you with the pleasures
That the flesh does surely hold
They say Eve tempted Adam with an apple
But man I ain't going for that
I know it was her pink Cadillac
(^^^^^!)
Crushed velvet seats
Riding in the back
Oozing down the street
Waving to the girls
Feeling out of sight
Spending all my money
On a Saturday night
Honey I just wonder what it feels like in the back
Of your pink Cadillac
Now some folks say it's too big
And uses too much gas
Some folks say it's too old
And that it goes too fast
But my love is bigger than a Honda
It's bigger than a Subaru
Hey man there's only one thing
And one car that will do
Anyway we don't have to drive it
Honey we can park it out in back
And have a party in your pink Cadillac

I was wrong, obviously. Bruce, like Marc Bolan before him, uses the car as a metaphor for sex Sex SEX. (For an equally entertaining automobile-as-woman song, check out T Rex’s “Jeepster.”)

My question:

Is the whole band in on it? In other words, before the E Street Band laid down “Pink Cadillac," did Bruce offer, “Hey, Max (Weinberg, the only E Street Bander I know), I’ve written another song; it's about sex. On the surface, though, it'll be about an old Cadillac. Whaddya think?” Is that how it went down?

The other options, of course, are these:

1) Band recognizes what he’s doing, lyrically speaking, but there’s no discussion about it. They lay down the track, Bruce lays down the vocal, everybody goes home. No questions asked.

2) Band doesn’t pick up on the bald-faced double entendres, just as the three other members of Joy Division didn't pick up on Ian Curtis' blatant cries for help when they cut Closer (1980). (Curtis committed suicide shortly after the final tracks were laid down. Even a cursory inspection of his lyrics suggests a man in crisis.)

3) Mike has been wrong all along; there ARE no double entendres. This song is about a vehicle. (Hiiiiighly doubtful, though, considering the crotchal pyrotechnics Bruce displays in the attached vid (below)).

If you don’t own the studio version of this track, acquire it NOW. Steal it, buy it, borrow it. Raunchy rock at it's finest.