One Soft Infested Summer

I've been listening to The Boss this morning.
Born to Run was the first album I ever owned. It was a gift from my dad. The first album i bought with my own $ was Liscense to Ill. I think my music collection has been playing catch-up ever since.
Eventhough its in eye-torture white on red text, this 1975 review of "Born to Run" sums up the Boss's storytelling power for me: Springsteen’s heroes and heroines face terror and survive it, face delight and die by its hand, and then watch as the process is reversed, understanding finally that they are paying the price of romanticizing their own fear...You may find yourself shaking your head in wonder, smiling through tears at the beauty of it all. I’m not talking about lyrics; they’re buried, as they should be, hard to hear for the first dozen playings or so, coming out in bits and pieces. To hear Springsteen sing the line “Hiding on the backstreets” is to be captured by an image; the details can come later. Who needed to figure out all the words to “Like a Rolling Stone” to understand it?
I remember sitting in my beat up car in the driveway of my shitty college apartment which had just been completely flooded by a hurricane, listening to Jungleland. I was depressed and planning to drop out of school. I watched a big rat walk across a telephone line and I listened to that tape over and over. I'm still not sure what the words mean.