Coaching the Boss: Lessons Bruce Springsteen learned about mentorship and high performance creativity.

There are so many reasons to read Bruce Springsteen’s autobiography.

We read non-fiction through the lens of what we want to learn about the world, and what we want to learn about ourselves.

If you’re anything like me, then, you’ll read it through the lens of his creativity leadership: what is it like to lead great, diverse and creative organizations toward new insights and innovations.

Bruce’s book is filled with anecdotes about his life and music. He shares insights about building a vision and higher purpose for one of the longest lasting creative teams ever built, the E-Street Band. He talks about what it means to be an artist and to be performer. He shares ideas about how to design experiences that audiences and fans want and need.

I first read it several years ago, and when I did, I marked up the whole book with marginalia.

Little doodles of smiley faces when he told the back stories behind some of favorite songs. Gasps upon learning how albums came to be made. Surprised exclamation points for moments like when he first walks in to record Born to Run and gets introduced to “a skinny Italian kid whose job it was to “change the tape reels.” (It was Jimmy Iovine. They gave him chance to lead. He went on to create Interscope Records and co-founded Beats Electronics.)

Much of my research this past year has focused on how to create organizations that enable widespread learning and foster better cultures for innovation. One central and critical finding is that within groups of people (like a team or an organization), collective insight scales from individuals seeking to open their own eyes. Learning can't spread if it doesn’t start, first, at a personal and individual place.

So as I’ve been flipping back through Bruce’s book, what most stands out this time is not what he did to lead the band. It’s what he did to create an environment for himself to learn and grow.

Level One – Where he puts in the work.

The stories of Bruce playing the Jersey Shore are well told, but the scale of how many performances he led before releasing Greetings from Ashbury Park stand out starkly in his telling of his journey. This guy played everything and everywhere. We mostly know Bruce as a rock singer-songwriter, but in his earliest of days he was an all-star lead guitarist for the very heavy rock Steel Mill. I mean, they opened for Black Sabbath at one point! They became big around the University of Richmond's college town, and played a circuit up and down the coast for years.

Long story short, he played hard and fast and every night. Over time, he started taking on more singing responsibilities, vision setting and band leadership. He begins to hone a unique point-of-view. He sets out on his own and creates several of his own bands. He starts to strip much of his sound, style and writing down to its essence. His manager gets him into a room with Columbia studio executives John Hammond and Clive Davis. And its just Bruce, an acoustic guitar, songs from the heart, and a decade of working it.

He credits all of that playing, practice and performance as being what made a difference when he was finally "discovered" by the labels and the rest of the world:

"The stock was way up on singer-songwriters in those days. The charts were full of them, with James Taylor leading the pack. I was signed to Columbia, along with Elliott Murphy, John Prine and Loudon Wainwright, "new Dylan's" all, to compete in acoustic battle at the top of the charts with our contemporaries. What I had over my company in the field was that I'd secretly built up years of rock 'n' roll experience out of view of the known world and in front of every conceivable audience. I'd already seen the roughest the road had to offer and was ready for more. These long honed talents would go a ways in distinguishing me from the pack and helping me get my songs heard."

And so it goes that years of practice at something much harder, louder and more complicated allowed Bruce to create a sound that was basic in its rock form - but so complex and rich its tones and vision.

And it's not just his musicality and creativity that Bruce credits all that practice with developing. He honed a set of high performance skills that encompassed both strengths that would enable him to play the big time and also worked within the limitations that were natural weaknesses for him. You see, Bruce was a singer-songwriter... who realized he didn't have an all-star voice.

"If you were lucky enough to be born with an instrument and the instinctive knowledge to know what to do with it, you are blessed indeed... My vocal imperfections made me work harder on my writing, my band leading, my performing and my singing. I learned to excel at those elements of my craft in a way I might otherwise never had if I had a more perfect instrument. My ability to power through three-hour-plus shows for forty years (itself a display of my manic insecurity that I'd never be enough) with a thoroughbred's endurance came from realizing I had to bring it all to take you where I wanted us to go.

Your blessings and your curses often come in the same package. Think of all the eccentric voices in rock who've made historic records and keep singing. Then build up your supportive skills because you never know what's going to come out of your heart and find its way out of your mouth."

So he records the album that brings him out to the world. Lester Bangs in Rolling Stone says "Bruce Springsteen is a bold new talent with more than a mouthful to say." Bruce Springsteen & the E-Street Band keep touring, writing and eventually another critic named Jon Landau sees a show in Cambridge and the hype starts to go viral: “I saw my rock 'n' roll past flash before my eyes. And I saw something else: I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time.”

It’s at this level that most musicians – even stars – stop. And on reflection, I think that’s true for many of us mere mortal leaders and creatives. We put in the work in our earliest years. When we’re in school or early in our practices and careers. We focus and drive hard, building new skills and delivering the goods.

And for some of us, we’re a little lucky, and we have some success. Create a reputation for ourselves. Maybe create fantastic works of art or products or business impact. That brings us to our current level – of role and responsibility, of interests and ways of thinking, of challenges we’re pursuing.

With a shout out to my own coaches and teachers (as they paraphrase Marshall Goldsmith), as they say, “what got you to your current level won’t get you to the next level.”

Bruce gets this idea. And one of the biggest moments in his personal story is that he chooses to push forward.

“In a transient world, I was suited for the long haul. I had years of study behind me, I was physically build to endure, and by disposition was not an edge dweller.”

The central decision he makes is to move on from his first manager, Mike Appel – the one who opened all the most important doors for him on the national stage with record labels – and to invite someone new into his circle as a manager, mentor and coach.

There are whole chapters on this move and how hard it was for him. But it was limiting his learning and growth. And so he pushed forward.

Level Two – Where he expands his ideas about music. And keeps practicing.

The new manager that Bruce brought on was Jon Landau - the same critic whose review raised the stakes to legendary status.

Here’s what Bruce has to say about why he need Jon, and the characteristics that made Jon the right coach and mentor for the next level of creative performance he was seeking:

“Jon Landau was the first person I met who had a language for discussing these ideas and the life of the mind. He had the rabid fan’s pure love of music and musicians while retaining his critic’s ability to step back and analyze the very thing he loved… 

He was a natural, and together we shared a belief in the bedrock values of musicianship, skill, the joy of hard work and the methodical application of one’s talents…

 Jon and I related both as conspiratorial music fans and as young men in search of something. Jon would serve me as a friend and mentor, someone who’d been exposed to and held information I felt would augment my creativity and deepen the truth seeking I was trying to make part of my music.

We also had that instant chemical connection that says “I know you.” Jon was better educated than my homeboys. I was interested in doing my job better and being great. Not good, great. Whatever that took, I was in.

Now, if you don’t have the raw talent, you can’t will yourself there. But if you have the talent, then will, ambition, and the determination to expose yourself to new thoughts, counterargument, new influences, will strengthen your work, driving it closer to home.”

I love everything about those few paragraphs!

In my reading, the principles of deliberate practice were so clearly at the core of Bruce’s approach to learning at this next level. To become the best creative or musician or performer he could be, he needed to look beyond himself and keep pushing forward.

First, he talks about pushing himself to encounter ideas beyond his own experience.

Next, he talks about needing “a language for discussing ideas and the life of the mind.” Bruce wasn’t just looking for new musical ideas. He was also seeking another person’s expert framework - a language of ideas - within which he might expand his own understanding and create new music.

And finally, he talks about coaching. Bruce was looking for someone to help him improve. Jon helped him critique his own music in a way that honestly his buddies from the street just couldn’t.

Jon's support went beyond that of a mentor who would give away ideas from his experience. He would also detach, help Bruce discuss ideas at a conceptual level and provide critical feedback about music and performance. Jon could help Bruce see sides to his own ideas that he couldn’t see on his own.

Level Three – where he expands his ideas about himself. And keeps practicing.

Remember – “what got you to your current level won’t get you to the next level.”

Bruce started working on this next level at what looked like a high point from a performance perspective. He’d just released a string of fantastic work – Born to Run (6x Platinum), Darkness at the Edge of Town (3x Platinum), The River (5x Platinum) and Nebraska (Platinum).

But there was still a next level to come. This story begins right as they are working on what would become the biggest, baddest contribution Bruce made to stadium rock stardom.

What Bruce talks about at this stage is gaining a deeper understanding of himself. Most importantly, he sought to think differently about some of his personal beliefs that were holding him back from pursuing high performance for the long-run.

As he describes it, much of the first half of Bruce’s career is two-sided. It’s marked by driving focused performance in the recording studio and on tour, followed up by some real emotional struggles and depressions when he stopped working.

“Off the road, life was a puzzle. Without that nightly hit of adrenaline the show provided, I was at loose ends, and whatever it was that was always eating at me rose up and came calling. In the studio and on tour, I was a one-man wrecking crew with a one-track mind. Out of the studio and off the road, I was...not. Eventually I had to come to grips with the fact that at rest, I was not at ease, and to be at ease, I could not rest. The show centered and calmed me, but it could not solve my problems. I had no family, no home, no real life.”

And so at a particularly tough moment between tours, he asked Jon for help. And Jon introduced him to Doc Myers – a therapist.

 “So began thirty years of one of the biggest adventures of my life, canvassing the squirrelly terrain inside my own head for signs of life. Life – not a song, not a performance, not a story but a life. I worked hard, dedicatedly, and I began to learn things. I began to map a previously unknown internal world. A world that, when it showed its weight and mass, its ability to hide in plain sight and its sway over my behavior, stunned me.”

Bruce worked with Doc Myers - on Bruce. His “previously unknown internal world.” The way he thought about himself. His understanding about of his relationship with his father. His ideas about home and his roots. His beliefs about what he needed from others – from guys in the E Street Band to his wife and later his children.

Taken one way, Bruce sought help with depression. But taken another, Bruce wanted to achieve high performance creativity for decades to come. And his need for “the show” to be the thing that kept him going wouldn’t sustain forever.

This was the next level of what he wanted when he first sought out Jon Landau: “Some guys’ five minutes are worth other guys’ fifty years, and while burning out in one brilliant supernova will send record sales through the roof, leave you living fast, dying young, leaving a beautiful corpse, there is something to be said for living. Personally, I like my gods old, grizzled and here. I’ll take Dylan; the pirate raiding party of the Stones; the hope-I-get-very-old-before-I-die, present live power of The Who; a fat, still-mesmerizing-until-his-death Brando – they all suit me over the alternative.”

So Jon Landau was able to stretch Bruce to expand his ideas about music. And Doc Myers took him beyond that – he helped Bruce stretch his ideas about himself.

There’s one quote Bruce shares about the Doc that’s particularly telling for how central this next level of growth was:

“In all psychological wars, it’s never over, there’s just this day, this time, and a hesitant belief in your own ability to change. It is not an arena where the unsure should go looking for absolutes and there are no permanent victories. It’s about a living change, filled with insecurities, the chaos, of our own personalities, and is always one step up, two steps back. The results of my work with Doc Myers and my debt to him are at the heart of this book.”

So what were the next level performances that came after Bruce began practicing this type of internal and personal learning, and got beyond just focusing on ideas about music and culture and the world?

Oh, just the 15x Platinum pumping Born in the USA. Half-time at the Super Bowl. That time the E-Street Band played for 500k people in East Germany and tore down the bricks in the Berlin Wall. Countless moments given to fans “who need to be reminded of something they already know and feel deeply in their gut.” Just that. And life with a family he never believed he was meant for. 

Five lessons from The Boss about high performance creativity.

It's been a fun ride to read Bruce's autobiography again a few years after I first read it. To relive the music and to reconsider it through the lens of what I'm most curious about right now.

Here are five take-aways that I found most clarifying this time:

1. There’s a next level of creative performance. What got you to your current level won’t get you to the next one. 
2. Keep practicing the sum of your parts. Make your weaknesses into something of your own, and work deliberately in honing your strengths.
3. Getting to the next level is about expanding the insights and ideas you seek.
4. Next level insights and ideas come in pairs – external and internal.
5. A coach can be really helpful for high performance creativity.

If you're leading a design team, an insights group or any other type of creative organization, grab yourself a copy of Born to Run and find a few nuggets that just might make a difference for you and the people pursuing brilliant work alongside you.

The photo above is from the Bruce Springsteen concert 1988 in East Berlin. It's posted under Creative Commons license with attribution: Bundesarchiv, Bild 183-1988-0719-38 / Uhlemann, Thomas / CC-BY-SA 3.0.