Playlists

“One chord is fine. Two chords are pushing it. With three you're already playing jazz”, goes a famous quote attributed to Lou Reed. But there's another option: if you have three chords, always the same three, IV-I-V (the middle one can occasionally be swapped for its relative minor), it's probably heartland rock.

It's entirely possible the term means nothing to you. It isn't, in fact, part of the standard musical vocabulary of the average Italian listener. And yet the sound it identifies is more alive today than ever. It thunders through the big music of Sam Fender and the pseudo-synthwave hits of Taylor Swift; in the recent output of Killers and Ryan Adams; in the refined indie-rock of War On Drugs and in the choral surges of Arcade Fire. Far more widespread and pervasive than the much-hyped post-post-punk revivals, it is, to all effects, one of the defining sounds of rock in our era. If these comparisons still leave you puzzled, one name should clear things up: Bruce Springsteen. The passionate, driving sound of his albums straddling the Seventies and Eighties has its roots in New Jersey, but conjures images of the American heartland – endless highways, deindustrialization, the hopes and disappointments of the American dream – and represents, for many European listeners, the most quintessentially American soul of rock'n'roll from that era.

And yet there's life beyond Bruce Springsteen, and this playlist is a chance to discover it. The Boss's voice is iconic (even if some might find it rough around the edges), and his songs have made history, and not only rock history. But mistaking his personality for uniqueness would be a huge mistake. Similar images of the American heartland, evoked by an equally sweeping and irresistible sound, by comparable but more varied song structures, and often by the very same chords, are part of the repertoire of dozens of artists, both earlier and later. Some names had already achieved a comparable standing in this context by the late Seventies: Tom Petty, Bob Seger, John Mellencamp, Nils Lofgren.

Around the Eighties, the sound had earned its own name, heartland rock, borrowing one of the nicknames for the north-central United States – the much-vaunted Midwest. Perhaps by way of contrast, over time another label also caught on (to a much lesser extent): the "Jersey Shore Sound", used for artists from the northeastern coast such as Springsteen, Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes, and John Cafferty & The Beaver Brown Band. It's unclear when this latter term was coined, but the earliest online references date back to the late 2000s.

From the Midwest to the Far East

Of course, the sound and its constituent elements didn't spring from nowhere. Among the many influences pointed out by critics (from Bob Dylan to Neil Young, via Joe Walsh), one comparison in particular proves illuminating: that with John Fogerty's Creedence Clearwater Revival. Indeed, that obsession with reiterating basic chords, with a raw, straightforward attitude that goes straight to rock'n'roll almost bypassing the influences of the British invasion and the Summer of Love, shows a strong kinship with what Fogerty had already begun doing with his band back in the Sixties, several hundred miles further south. The Californian outfit is also responsible for one of the most effective traits of the heartland style: its pounding, propulsive beat, a sort of motorik avant la lettre that draws its origins from American highways and Delta blues rather than from the German Autobahn and the echoes of New York's Bohème found in Velvet Underground.

If we were to look for a "golden age" for the genre, it would undoubtedly fall between the Seventies and Eighties – roughly in parallel with that of arena rock. In those years the sound also infected artists and musical territories that weren't too far removed: Billy Joel embraces it with “Storm Front” (1989), but the decade also saw forays from Cher, Bonnie Raitt, Kim Carnes, and Melissa Etheridge. “Because The Night” by Patti Smith (written by Springsteen) fits squarely within that furrow, and some even bring the songwriting of Tracy Chapman into the discussion – more acoustic and intimate, but often kindred in its themes. Another regular is Jim Steinman, author of songs that fuse the theatrical emphasis of pomp-rock with the typical driving heartland stride: the title track of “Bat Out Of Hell” is essentially that, but the same vein also produced songs for Bonnie Tyler and her solo output.

Correspondences abound outside the United States too: the kinship with the virtuosic, skeletal roots-rock of Dire Straits is obvious, but ultimately even the big music of U2 shows a clear affinity, at least in certain phases. In Canada the torch passed first to Red Rider, then to Bryan Adams, who picked up much of the thread in his iconic pop-rock, tilted toward Aor. But the contagion also spread beyond the Anglosphere's borders, with Sweden's Ulf Lundell, Finland's Eppu Normaali, and even Cristiano De André's Tempi Duri (explicit from their very name in their nod to Mark Knopfler's band). With the second half of the Eighties came a landing in Japan too, with the updated reinterpretations of Shogo Hamada, Sion and Motoharu Sano. In a different guise, echoes can be found in France as well, with the singer-songwriter productions of Alain Souchon and the enveloping sound of his longtime collaborator Laurent Voulzy.

Beyond the mainstream

Over the course of the Nineties, the genre's echo begins to fade – at least at the mainstream level. Even within American folk-rock, heartland stylistic traits are gradually rendered demodé by the rise of the synthesis of roots rock, alt-country and bluegrass that would come to be known as Americana.

On the alternative front, though, the genre's energetic, heartfelt drive – combined with its harmonic simplicity – finds new life among bands emerging from the hardcore punk circuit, particularly those influenced by power pop and the college punk of the Replacements. What emerges is a loose, heterogeneous branch now known to fans as “heartland punk”. Raw and direct, it developed mainly from the 2000s onward with artists like Menzingers, Hot Water Music, Against Me!, The Gaslight Anthem, Titus Andronicus and, more recently, Spanish Love Songs. In the style of these bands, the harmonic repetitiveness of Springsteen and his acolytes intertwines with the hammering drumming and surging melodies typical of hardcore. The effectiveness of the pairing can also be measured by the fact that, often, the influences of these two worlds turn out to be almost indistinguishable to the ear.

In parallel – with an acceleration from 2010 onward – the genre's sonic vocabulary also begins to filter into indie rock. A number of artists who had debuted in different contexts gradually adopted that driving, wistfully triumphant stride, which by now has become an instantly recognizable trademark. Killers, Arcade Fire, Twin Shadow and Sweden's Håkan Hellström are examples of successful names who took this path, at times brushing up against the more anthemic stomp-rock. Other names, like the hyper-prolific Ryan Adams or cult band Car Seat Headrest, have drawn closer to these influences more recently in their constant zigzagging across genres.

There are also projects that have incorporated these elements into their indie rock DNA from the very start: the exuberant The Hold Steady, active since the early 2000s; superproducer Jack Antonoff's Bleachers, who pick up many traits of the Boss without echoing his rougher vocal style; War On Drugs, who fuse the genre's rhythmic backbone with dream-pop and psychedelic touches. And above all Sam Fender, Newcastle's rising star, who has established himself as the most recognizable face of the new generation thanks to the energy and personality of his take on the genre.

Crossovers, retromania and possible futures

The last few years in particular, with their genre-blending centrifuge, have also brought more unexpected combinations to the surface. With the usual Jack Antonoff as an accomplice, recent productions by Taylor Swift and Bartees Strange (one of the hyped names on the frontier between indie and hip-hop) have made more than one foray into heartland territory. Swift's songs, in particular, have leaned on a pairing as surprising as it is spot-on: that with Eighties-derived synthwave. The sound born to tell the story of the Rust Belt's outskirts grafts perfectly onto the synthetic grooves and retro-futurist imagery of outrun aesthetics. The result is an evocative, hyper-nostalgic synth-rock, promptly dubbed “heartland synth” by fans most eager for classification. A fusion that, in territories further from the mainstream, is also being explored with passion by artists such as The Midnight and The Motion Epic.

There's something in that steady three-chord pulse that keeps on generating visions. Whether it's roaring guitars, highway ballads or melancholy synths filtered through neon, the heart of heartland rock has never really stopped beating and staying in motion. This playlist follows it as far as it has traveled – and perhaps even a little further – thanks to its simple structure, its stubborn energy, and an imagery that never feels dated, made of straight roads and complicated dreams.

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19/02/2026