Conclusion: A Road To Nowhere
In 1985, The Talking Heads released their sixth studio album, Little Creatures. Its closing track, “Road to Nowhere” is a “joyful look at doom,” according to the band’s frontman, David Byrne.
“Well we know where we’re going /
But we don’t know where we’ve been”
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“We’re on a road to nowhere”
While it is not explicitly about the Interstate System, the sense of cognitive dissonance established by the upbeat rhythm and bleak lyrics of “Road to Nowhere” mirrors the disconnect faced by travelers increasingly cut off from the landscape around them following the development of the Interstate System. Where the two-lanes of Route 66 and other pre-Interstate highways brought travelers along America’s coasts, across its deserts, through its forests, and into the locale of small towns, connecting them with those who lived and worked there, the new Interstate System cut through scenic vistas and quaint villages alike, bypassing the living history of the nation’s roads in favor of the most direct route. Jens Hilke remarks that “some blame America’s loss of historical and geographical perspective directly on the construction of the Interstate Highway System because its distanced people from the landscape both by speed and limited access. In contrast to the Parkways of earlier decades, most Interstates were designed with no concern for the adjoining scenery as a means of elevating the traveler’s experience” (Hilke).
The visible landscape experienced by the average traveler began to look more and more uniform, homogenized, and predictable. This lack of connection to the unique communities making up the whole of America has led to a greater sense of alienation, in that direct experience seems to be either bought or handed down to the consumer from emotionless corporate entities, rather than shared by authentic groups of people. In the American Highway: the History and Culture of the Roads in the United States, William Kaszynski calls this process “the Blanding of America,” and cites Charles Kuralt, journalist and host of CBS’s “On the Road” travel news feature, as remarking that “you can drive from coast to coast on the interstates and still not see a thing” (Kaszynski).
Highsmith, C. M. (2018, May 15). [Aerial view of a maze of converging highways and bridges in Seattle, Washington] [Photograph]. Retrieved from https://www.loc.gov/item/2018698419/.
Though neon signs are becoming an increasingly less common sight on our roadways, the distinctly American vernacular landscapes that they comprise “will always exist as long as people inhabit the planet,” according to Steve Fitch. How that vernacular is expressed will steadily change with the nation, and will take on new meanings as our national identity shifts. Whereas Peter Laufer doesn’t believe that a pylon McDonalds sign is “going to evoke the kind of warmth that neon can portray” (Laufer), Steve Fitch proposes a future where “explorers may one day thrill to the wonderment of an aging, corporate, franchise landscape with hundreds of identical signs and buildings blanketing the land” (Fitch). If landscape vernacular and neon signs teach us anything, it must be that the monuments we construct to our conceited, self-gratifying whims say more about the culture and socio-politico-economic values of the United States than a history lesson ever could, and that blatant commercial merchandising at the expense of creative expression ultimately diminishes quality of life in a postmodern world.
Until the day that the products of late-stage consumer culture become quaintly retro shrines to the ‘glory’ of capitalism, the endangered clusters of neon that dot our skylines and roadways will continue to remind us of our collective dreams and ambitions, our shared history and values, and just how connected we are as a nation, to our past and to each other. With this in mind, it is more important than ever for the historically and culturally significant neon signs from the United States’ most dynamic and influential century to be documented, preserved, and shared before they are all burnt out.