Turn It Up #2: "Something In The Well"

Bruce Springsteen teaches me why I'm bad at writing about music

This edition of Turn It Up is going to be a bit different: I’m only writing about one song.

Why? Because I feel like it. I like this song a lot and think you should listen to it too. Also because writing about this song was hard and I don’t want to do this nine more times before hitting publish. You don’t want to read all that either. We both have other stuff to do, after all.

Is this going to be the format of the Turn It Up series going forward? Who knows. The only common thread is likely to be that it features music I’m currently enjoying. I hope it inspires you to enjoy some music too.

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“Something In The Well” - Bruce Springsteen

from Tracks II: The Lost Albums

After 20 minutes of staring at my screen trying to write about this damn song—hating everything I read on the screen—I take a break to run to the grocery store with my wife. We listen to this song on the way back, and it strikes me that Bruce Springsteen’s lyrics reflect how I wish I could write. He sings simply and directly, with imagery that is evocative but never flowery.

Woke last night to that same sound
First, I thought it was you breathin'
Got out of bed and went to the window
Just as a cloud rushed 'cross the moon

It’s tempting to lean on hyperbole and fancy words when writing about a song like “Something In The Well.” But that takes me (and, I assume, the reader) further away from what really actually makes the song stick. Notice the first verse above? None of the lines rhyme, and not a single word has more than two syllables. And yet.

Baby, baby, there's something in the well
Something waiting in the well

Springsteen never reveals the specifics of what haunts the protagonist and lies inside the metaphorical well. The song is better for it. The empty space inside the story’s scaffolding tugs on the imagination and transfers the feeling of heartache better than a more defined narrative could.

It would be wrong, however, to describe this song as sparse. The eerie, ethereal atmosphere created by the layered instrumentation makes the emotions conveyed by the lyrics more potent. It’s like the liminal space between dreaming and being awake, with the not-yet-conscious sense that you have just woken from a recurring nightmare.

Lately I've been watchin' that corner of the field
Out where the old black willow fell
Things can seem so safe and sure
But you can never really tell

It doesn’t take much to shatter our sense of stability and control. We’re all going to experience an encounter with chaos that reminds us how fragile our carefully constructed lives can be. I have been lucky to experience this only a few times, all to a relatively minor extent. Even then, it’s a scary truth to confront.

Oh, there's some secrets that should never be told
There's some words that should never be said
Now, I know there's things in this world, baby
Should stay locked up forever inside our heads

The song ends with the protagonist attempting to confront his buried demons head-on. The encounter is torturous, and the imagery is powerful. It’s left open-ended whether the protagonist will find a peace on the other side.

I don’t think it matters.

What this song offers isn’t resolution, but a space for the listener to imagine confronting their own demons and unspoken fears. When I listen to this song, I think about losing what I treasure the most. It makes me much more grateful for what I have, and more determined to savor it while I still can.

Well, last night, darling, I did sleep
Naked on the dark spring ground
The leaves in the trees came alive and spoke to me
And I could feel the dirt 'neath me movin' 'round

Hey, the well was torn open and I stared down
Into the muddy darkness, my black tears fell
Stars spread their false light on the earth
Moon slipped from the sky and fell

And my love for you came rushin' forward
And my fear and hatred as well
Hell, things can seem so safe and sure
But you can never really tell
There's something in the well