"And we danced all night to a soul fairy band / And she kissed me just right like only a lonely angel can."
BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!
Today, we're talking Bruce Springsteen's “Spirit In the Night” -- a mystical, bluesy song that is equal parts Van Morrison and William Butler Yeats. But first, a quick word or ten on the original source material to which The Boss is referring in his "Spirit in the Night." After all, even a casual Bruce fan could tell you that words like "fairy," "soul," "spirit," "hazy," and "Crazy Janey" aren't exactly staples of the typical, working-man Springsteen concordance.
So what's this all about, then?
"Crazy Janey" is most likely inspired by the "Crazy Jane" poems, a seven poem sequence that W.B. Yeats composed between 1929 and 1932. In them, a spitfire of a free spirit trades barbs with a man of the cloth. He's a holy roller, she's an unrepentant blue-collar rebel.
Got it?
Swell. Now let's jump right into the Springsteen stuff:
"Crazy Janey" is most likely inspired by the "Crazy Jane" poems, a seven poem sequence that W.B. Yeats composed between 1929 and 1932. In them, a spitfire of a free spirit trades barbs with a man of the cloth. He's a holy roller, she's an unrepentant blue-collar rebel.
Got it?
Swell. Now let's jump right into the Springsteen stuff:
“Crazy Janey and the Mission man / Were back in the alley tradin' hands.”"Crazy Jane," eh? And a "Mission" man (as in, a "Missionary")? Wow. Real subtle there, Bruce. But hey -- at least The Boss isn't trying to hide his source material. Not surprisingly, Springsteen’s remark that the two characters were “trading hands” seems to mirror the structure of Yeats' source material -- you know, where "trading hands" could mean something along the lines of "going at it in a friendly manner" or "playing a game of "can-you-top-this."
"So what's the structure of the first three Crazy Jane poems," you ask?
Bruce Springsteen: Don't look at me -- I'm (wild and) innocent, I swear!
Actually, that's kind of clever. But before we can get too caught up in the Janey/Bishop drama -- who shows up in Springsteen's song but a "crazy cat" named -- what else but -- "Wild Billy" (of course).
Hmm... first a "Crazy Jane," then a holy roller, and now a wild dude named -- "Billy?"
William Butler Yeats: ... but you can call me Bill.
True story: Yeats' friends actually called him "Willy," and the dude was a certifiably crazy cat (fun fact: the guy practiced all sorts of fringe religions, had an honest-to-goodness monkey gland inserted in his man-parts in a desperate attempt to curb his erectile disfunction, and bought himself a samurai sword and a FREAKING MEDIEVAL TOWER, just for fun).
Thor Ballylee: a real bitch to heat in the winter.
(The more you know)
But getting back to the song: Crazy Janey and our narrator are interrupted as "Wild Billy (Yeats) and his friend G-Man" (more on G-Man momentarily) asks the partygoers to join him for a nighttime shindig down by the lake so they can get their dance on. And by "get their dance on," he wants them to get their dance on like...
George Hyde Lees Yeats: Wife, author, automatic writer & makeshift portal to alternate dimensions.
It's true.
Remember when we said we'd get back to G-Man in a second? Here we go: George Yeats (yes, that *is* a girl's name, in spite of its obviously MAN-ly, or masculine sound) was Wild Billy's real-life wife. Their marriage was something of a sham (Georgie actually helped arrange numerous extramarital affairs on her hubby's behalf), but they remained pretty close in spite of the charade. (One -- like Springsteen -- might even be more inclined to say that G-Man was more of a "friend" than an actual lover).
Hmm -- so Crazy Jane(y) is "trading hands" with a Mission man... tricksy, right?
“Crazy Jane and The Bishop” (where Jane expresses her feelings on love toward the clergyman) “Crazy Jane Reproved” (where the Bishop rebuts Jane’s argument and offers one of his own) “Crazy Jane on the Day of Judgment” (where Jane lays the smackdown on the bishop in a poem that might as well be titled "The Bishop Reproved”).
Bruce Springsteen: Don't look at me -- I'm (wild and) innocent, I swear!Actually, that's kind of clever. But before we can get too caught up in the Janey/Bishop drama -- who shows up in Springsteen's song but a "crazy cat" named -- what else but -- "Wild Billy" (of course).
Hmm... first a "Crazy Jane," then a holy roller, and now a wild dude named -- "Billy?"
William Butler Yeats: ... but you can call me Bill.True story: Yeats' friends actually called him "Willy," and the dude was a certifiably crazy cat (fun fact: the guy practiced all sorts of fringe religions, had an honest-to-goodness monkey gland inserted in his man-parts in a desperate attempt to curb his erectile disfunction, and bought himself a samurai sword and a FREAKING MEDIEVAL TOWER, just for fun).
Thor Ballylee: a real bitch to heat in the winter.(The more you know)
But getting back to the song: Crazy Janey and our narrator are interrupted as "Wild Billy (Yeats) and his friend G-Man" (more on G-Man momentarily) asks the partygoers to join him for a nighttime shindig down by the lake so they can get their dance on. And by "get their dance on," he wants them to get their dance on like...
Like spirits in the night, in the night"Stand right up girl and let [the spirits] shoot through you?" You say. Fair enough.
Oh, you don't know what they can do to you
Spirits in the night, in the night
Stand right up, girl, and let it shoot through you
George Hyde Lees Yeats: Wife, author, automatic writer & makeshift portal to alternate dimensions.It's true.
Remember when we said we'd get back to G-Man in a second? Here we go: George Yeats (yes, that *is* a girl's name, in spite of its obviously MAN-ly, or masculine sound) was Wild Billy's real-life wife. Their marriage was something of a sham (Georgie actually helped arrange numerous extramarital affairs on her hubby's behalf), but they remained pretty close in spite of the charade. (One -- like Springsteen -- might even be more inclined to say that G-Man was more of a "friend" than an actual lover).
But anyway...
The real-life George Yeats actually used to dabble in automatic writing (can't make this stuff up). You know, the type where you "stand right up / and let the sprits shoot through you" -- by holding a pencil and let the dead generations dance around the room and tell you what to write (e.g. -- "hey Will, TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE! The spirits told me so.")
So to recap:
Crazy Janey = Crazy Jane, a.k.a. the awesomeness
Mission Man = The Bishop, with whom Crazy Jane "trades hands"
Wild Billy = William Butler (Yeats)
G-Man = George Yeats, automatic writer
But since Bruce mentioned "Greasy Lake" (you know, the one "about a mile down the dark side of route 88")... here's another fun bit of trivia: W.B. Yeats wrote most of his poems while residing at his pal Lady Gregory’s nearby estate at Coole Park. Coole Park, in turn, was the home to none other than (surprise!) one big-ass lake, which also just so happens to make its way into some of Willy's best-known works. Recounting the distance between his own home and Lady Gregory’s in a poem called “Coole and Ballylee, 1931,” Yeats writes:
Under my window-ledge the waters race,Suddenly, Springsteen's "Greasy Lake" isn't just any old place: it's Coole friggin' Park. Heck, Bruce describes the locale itself (“lake”), it’s distance (“a mile”), and the winding path one must travel upon to get there (“dark”) in exactly the same words that Yeats had once used.
Otters below and moor-hens on top,Run for a mile undimmed in Heaven’s face
Then darkening through ‘dar’ Raftery’s ‘cellar’ drop,
Run underground, rise in a rocky place
In Coole demesne, and there to finish up
Spread to a lake and drop into a hole.
Pretty cool, yes? Well this is where things get really wild. Because right about now (funk soul brotha'), Springsteen's loveable, blue-collar narrator throws back a few too many, stares Crazy Janey right square in the eyes, and says:
“I think I really dug her ‘cause I was too loose to fakeAnd BAM! Springsteen goes right back into Crazy Jane and the source material we go to close out the song.
I said, “I'm hurt,”
She said, “Honey, let me heal you.”
(No, literally: "into Crazy Jane" -- get it? Needlessly vulgar, I know.)
But perhaps we shouldn't be all that surprised.
After all, Crazy Jane was a bit of a slut (Yeats' words, not mine). And as her poem sequence draws to a close with stories like "Crazy Jane and Jack the Journeyman," the heroine talks openly about her "wild" love for a character she calls Jack the Journeyman; the kinda rebellious, blue-collar dude who -- not coincidentally -- would have fit perfectly in a song about chasing skirts and slammin' brewskis down on the Asbury Park boardwalk.
Hmm... now where might one find themselves a rebellious, young, blue-collar journeyman at an hour like this?
That'll do, pig. That'll do.Springsteen doesn't just borrow Yeats' inspiration. Instead? He writes HIMSELF right back into the Crazy Jane source material -- and by the time he's done? He even manages to steal Wild Billy's girl while he's at it.
(Wow --- the *nerve* of this guy!)
Guess that's why they call him "The Boss."
