There’s one piece of vinyl that hangs in my Florida apartment: Bruce Springsteen’s “Hungry Heart.” I’m not a big vinyl guy, or even the biggest Bruce fan—I couldn’t name 15 songs. However, to the extent that I bought it off the rack, I figure the song must represent something to me.
I think it’s a few things. Aesthetically, there’s some humor. It’s a little hilarious to have a Bruce Springsteen record on the wall. I’m leaning into the meme.
Second, there’s some trivial nostalgia. When I first heard the song, I was writing and learning to hear music in a new way. More than any connection to the song itself, it’s a marker of a time in my life.
Though it might sound like I’m downplaying the song, there are things I like about it. It’s upbeat with a dark affect—happy music, sad lyrics. Bottle it up, cause I’m a sucker for it every time.
In some sense, “Hungry Heart” is less of a song that I love and more of a song that I would love—a platonic ideal.
And all of this is without mentioning: it’s a great hook.
Everybody’s got a hungry heart.
I love this about music.
Imagine without context a crowd of thousands shouting, “Everybody’s got a hungry heart.” Where would that happen? We’re too buttoned up—too encumbered. Music allows us to express those truths that our filter would have caught.
Good songs resonate. They’re where we make our sincerest statements—not just those we consider should be true, but the ones that are.
There’s a certain type of self-help that would take issue with the Boss’s pronouncement. You’ve probably seen it online or encountered it in books. It’s a line of thinking that derides any allusion to the heart. The emotional decision maker is held up as the prime image of who not to be. It’s as if to say: Whatever you do, don’t follow your heart.
This dogma, of course, is a reaction to the mantra follow your heart. I’m not sure how often anyone has been told those three words exactly, but the sentiment certainly exists.
Look, I get it. People make some poor decisions. They don’t think things through, or they aren’t disciplined. Affairs, addiction, abandonment—are these acts justified in the name of personal fulfillment?
No, and that’s not what I’m arguing.
My problem with the don’t follow your heart crowd is that there is no vision offered in the positive. Well meaning (I think), they only articulate subtraction. You know that part of you that wants things? Don’t do that.
You can’t tell humans to not make emotional decisions when—quite literally—all we do is make them. Everyone thinks they’re rational; no one is.
This, again, is the power of music. While we take polar sides on a spectrum, arguing dos and don’ts, Bruce hits us with the truth: Everybody’s got a hungry heart.
Follow your heart? I don’t know about that. But there are things that you and I want.
What are they?
The truth is, we often don’t really know—not well enough to articulate them. We have instincts for, but arguments against.
Weighing the decision to move for college at 26, I didn’t have a perfectly sound rationalization. Sure, in the pros column it meant finally finishing a degree. Two years in Florida didn’t sound bad either. But in the cons column, I was stepping out of a job I liked with a mortgage I still needed to pay for.
We had a previously scheduled family trip to Florida while I was weighing the decision. My excel budget and degree audit spreadsheet had offered little relief while I weighed the pros and cons.
We were driving back home through the mountains of West Virginia. Normally, this signals the part of the trip when you realize you’re almost home. But this time, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was driving away from where I was supposed to be. I remember that as the moment I made the decision to go.
I have a favorite verse of the song, particularly for the last line:
I met her in a Kingstown bar
We fell in love, I knew it had to end
We took what we had and we ripped it apart
Now here I am down in Kingstown again
The arts explore our values. They reflect on human experiences. Consider humanity for half of a moment and you’ll recognize this exploration yields mixed results. It’s not scientific, verifiable, or duplicatable. Sometimes, we’re just plain wrong. But I appreciate the freedom for error because that’s how our lives are.
Duality marks the lyrics of “Hungry Heart.” Bruce seems to comprehend something about our contradictions and channels it into song. He doesn’t summate or distill a precise philosophy for decision making. There’s no four easy steps to make your next decision.
What he offers is honesty in the searching.
Everybody needs a place to rest
Everybody wants to have a home
Don’t make no difference what nobody says
Ain’t nobody want to be alone
Everybody’s got a hungry heart