Springsteen Went Acoustic, Abraham Went Monotheist
We are in the midst of a renaissance of music biopics. Last year brought us A Complete Unknown, featuring Timothée Chalamet’s electrifying performance as a young Bob Dylan. And this week, Jeremy Allen White channels a 31-year-old Bruce Springsteen in Deliver Me from Nowhere, a film chronicling the making of Springsteen’s stark, haunting album Nebraska.
A Complete Unknown builds toward one of popular music’s great mythic moments: Dylan plugging in his electric guitar at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. By then, the folk purists had crowned him their acoustic prophet. They knew exactly what they wanted from him — acoustic protest songs — and expected him to deliver exactly that, forever.
But on that July evening in Newport, Dylan strapped on a Fender Stratocaster and played “Maggie’s Farm” and “Like a Rolling Stone.” The crowd booed. Pete Seeger allegedly tried to cut the power cables with an axe. The folk establishment felt betrayed by their king.
If Dylan went electric, Bruce went acoustic. By 1982, Springsteen had already become the Boss. After the success of his double album The River, fans and record executives expected more anthems, more saxophone solos, more songs to fill arenas. Instead, Bruce retreated to his bedroom with a four-track cassette recorder and made Nebraska — an album of bare, acoustic folk songs recorded so quietly you can hear the hiss of the tape. No band. No production. No fanfare.
The label was baffled. Where was Born to Run, Part Two? Where were the hits? Logic dictated that Springsteen should have gone bigger. Instead, he went smaller. And deeper.
Both artists defied their audiences’ expectations. And this week, as millions watch the story of one iconoclast unfold on screen, we’ll read about another in the Torah: Abraham, the original free-thinker, whose journey begins in this week’s portion, Lech Lecha.
Abraham grew up in ancient Mesopotamia, a world of idols and many gods. But he walked away from that world. According to our tradition, he smashed his father’s idols and left his hometown, his father’s house. As God said to him: “Go forth from your country, your people, and your father’s house, to the land I will show you.” (Genesis 12:1). Abraham was delivered from nowhere, into the complete unknown.
Bob went electric. Bruce went acoustic. Abraham went monotheist.
Lech Lecha means “go forth,” but also, more literally, “go to yourself.” God wasn’t only calling Abraham away from something, but toward something — toward his purpose. His truest self.
The Torah calls him Avram HaIvri, “Avram the Hebrew.” Why “HaIvri”? The rabbis debate that question. The obvious answer is that he spoke Ivrit, Hebrew. But Rabbi Yehuda says the word Ivri comes from ever, meaning “side.” Abraham was from the other side. Not just geographically–he was in fact from the other side of the Euphrates River– but spiritually. The entire world stood on one side, and Abraham stood on the other. Everyone else worshipped many gods; Abraham worshipped one God. He stood apart. He wasn’t afraid to be different.
Standing on the other side isn’t about being contrarian. It’s about conviction. It’s about having the courage to follow what you know to be true, even when the entire world stands across the river. That’s what made Abraham great. It’s what made Dylan great. It’s what made Springsteen great.
Sometimes the most radical thing you can do isn’t to go electric or to go acoustic. It’s simply to go to yourself. And to trust that the journey into the complete unknown is, in fact, the journey home.
