Born to Run—Not to Follow

“You don’t merely want to be considered the best at what you do. You want to be considered the only one who does what you do.” - Jerry Garcia

In the summer of 1974, Bruce Springsteen wasn’t struggling to be the next Bob Dylan. He was failing because he was the next Bob Dylan.

Columbia Records had signed Springsteen in 1972, impressed by his raw, poetic lyricism and working-class narratives. But there was a problem: Bob Dylan had already owned the position of poetic folk-rock legend. There was no room for another.

For two years, Springsteen was marketed as “the new Dylan,” but there’s an immutable truth in marketing: No two brands can own the same word in the prospect’s mind. Dylan was first. Bruce was an echo.

So his first two albums flopped. Not because they weren’t good, but because they weren’t his. Critics dismissed him as a knockoff: “He writes like Dylan, sings like Van Morrison, and leads a band that sounds like Van Morrison’s.”

Springsteen wasn’t perceived as different, which made him dismissable.

But then, in 1975, he zagged. Instead of trying to be “better” at folk-rock, he became something else entirely. He abandoned the shadow of Dylan and created heartland rock—an entirely new category of music. It wasn’t just folk with more energy. It was blue-collar anthems fused with the power of rock and roll.

Springsteen didn’t try to beat Dylan at his own game. He played an entirely different game. He chose a new attribute: where Dylan’s music was introspective and poetic, Springsteen’s was urgent and cinematic.

The result? Born to Run.

With one song, Springsteen forced the world to stop comparing him to Dylan and start seeing him as the future of rock. A new voice, a new sound, and—most importantly—a new category.

The lesson? Legends aren’t built by being incrementally better; they’re built by being fundamentally different.

When I talk to agtech startups and agribusinesses about marketing, the conversation almost always starts the same way:

• “How do we get the word out?”
• “Are we using the right channels?”
• “Should we invest in SEO?”
• “Should we put up field signs with our retail partners?”

This is a classic marketing trap—the assumption that success comes from being incrementally better at distributing an existing message.

But as Springsteen learned, the market doesn’t reward more of the same. The real question isn’t, “How do we get attention?” It’s, “What would actually matter?”

A venture capitalist I work with recently asked me: “This trend is hot right now. Do we zig and compete in it, or do we zag and create our own space?”

I asked a simpler question: "Do we have the financial or personnel resources to compete with the major players?"

The answer was obvious: No.

So, why play their game? Why fight over a piece of their market on their terms?

The company that defines the conversation about the problem owns the rules of engagement.

If you’re an agtech startup trying to succeed, don’t confirm what Bayer, Deere, and Microsoft already believe about agriculture. Don’t fight them for a percentage point of their market. Instead, make them irrelevant in your customer’s mind by defining an entirely new game—one where you set the terms.

Make something different. Make people care. Make fans, not followers.