Showing posts with label The New Yorker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The New Yorker. Show all posts

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Concert Review – MetLife, NJ September 22




David Remnick’s profile in the New Yorker writes about the “ultra-sincere interchange between Springsteen and his fans.” I’ve never witnessed a clearer illustration of that bond than last night’s concert which began with 55,000 dejected fans waiting more than 2 hours in shelter due to lightning warnings and ended with the entire stadium singing Happy Birthday to Bruce at nearly 2:00 in the morning while his family came on stage for a birthday cake celebration.

Word of Bruce’s marathon Wednesday show and stunning set list on Friday set anticipation for Saturday evening at a fever pitch. But the evening was mired early on by the impending weather storm that caused security to evacuate the floor and general seating areas. As lines snaked around the undercover of MetLife stadium and the clock ticked later and later, all sorts of scuttlebutt made its way up and down the lines regarding whether Bruce would play at all. And if he did, what kind of show would it be? It was hard times all around but I took comfort knowing that the person who was most upset about the delay was Bruce himself. Such is the bond that Remnick writes about.

When we were finally ushered out to the field and Bruce took the stage at approximately 10:30 p.m. with his trademark grin, gestures about the rain and his welcoming – “I think I just invited 55,000 people to my birthday party!” – we knew everything was going to be all right. And it was.

Bruce moved at a fevered clip, making up for lost time and delivering 33 songs in a 3½ hour show that rocked into the wee hours of the morning. It was almost an hour before he slowed down to introduce the band during the resident “My City of Ruins” call-outs. On this tour, this is usually the fifth or sixth track of the evening, but last night it was the tenth, coming after crowd favorites (“Out in the Street,” “Badlands), obscurities (“Cynthia”) and Wrecking Ball cuts (“We Take Care of Our Own,” “Death to My Hometown”).

A spirited cover of Wilson Pickett’s “In the Midnight Hour” and the now familiar rendition of “Who Will Stop the Rain” gave playful comment on the situation. But I also noticed how many of the songs in his set list mentioned rain in the lyrics. It was hard to tell if this was coincidence or part of Bruce’s backstage selection process. Bruce also thanked the audience repeatedly for their patience throughout the course of the evening. Oh, Bruce. You know we’d drive all night to be with you.

I had general admission tickets to the floor and even though you have to put up with unruly fans, lack of readily available exits and the discomforts of standing in one place, I really feel that it’s the best way to see a Springsteen concert. Even with the big screens and video camera wizardry, you need to be up close to really appreciate the showmanship of the E Street Band. From Bruce’s cavalcade of expressions and theatrics to Nils Lofrgren’s exorcism-like guitar playing on “Because the Night” (much of which wasn’t on the big screen) to the entire band dancing in unison to “Shackled and Drawn” you have to be up close to get the full effect.

Additional highlights from the evening included Bruce calling on stage the 73-year-old Gary U.S. Bonds for two songs (“Jole Blon” and “This Little Girl”), more surprise appearances from Born in the U.S.A. (“Cover Me”, “Downbound Train”, “Working on the Highway”) and bizarre theatrics during the encore performances of “Glory Days” and “Seven Nights to Rock”. The latter of which included Bruce playing the piano with his forehead.

By the time the night concluded with Bruce bringing out his mother – Adele Springsteen – and additional family members to distribute birthday cake to lucky members of the audience and tear down the house with a beatific rendition of “Twist and Shout”, it was clear that we were witnessing something special. As Bruce readied his 87-year-old mother to sing back-up vocals, he noted almost as an afterthought, “It’s going to be loud as hell.” He then plugged his mother’s ears with a bit of torn off napkin and proceeded to rock. As fireworks went off above the stadium, it felt like the entire crowd was smiling in unison. Like so many other times in my life, when the world seemed to be ending (which it wasn’t), the music of Bruce Springteen turned things around. It wasn’t the best Springsteen concert I’ve ever been to, but it might be the one I never forget.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Springsteen Lyrics of the Week - This Depression


"This is my confession,
I need your heart, in this depression"
- This Depression, Wrecking Ball

Continuing on the theme of last week’s article in The New Yorker, “This Depression” from Wrecking Ball takes on a new persona in light of Bruce’s comments about struggling with depression. It comes as a surprise to think that someone who seems as unbelievably happy with his job, that someone who has brought so much joy to millions of people, can feel a lack of self-worth and suffer from depression. In our quick take, we even expressed skepticism that Bruce could feel as low as the narrator of the song. But Bruce’s own admission suggests that he can. I’ve always found it strange that this was one of the two songs from Wrecking Ball that hadn't been played on the tour. Then, just last week in Norway, he played it for the first time. I initially assumed he wasn’t as proud of it but perhaps, up until now, it just felt too personal to play it live.


Monday, July 30, 2012

Springsteen Video of the Week - Walk Like a Man (Cincinnati, 2005)




Last week’s article in The New Yorker has given renewed interest to Bruce’s troubled relationship with his father, Doug Springsteen. The article notes how the two had a very difficult time talking with each other and presents songs like “Independence Day” and “Adam Raised a Cain” as Bruce’s attempts to address their strained relationship in place of direct communication. If these songs were Bruce’s attempts to reach out to a distant father, then “Walk Like a Man” can be seen as a peace offering.

When I first heard this song on the Tunnel of Love album, I focused mainly on the wedding lyrics and thought the song was about a nervous groom praying for the courage to be a good husband. It wasn’t until I heard the solo piano version from this live performance in 2005, that I realized the song was about a son trying to live up to the example set by his father.

This ode to the positive influence of fathers is in stark contrast to the other songs mentioned above and all the more poignant in light of last week’s article.

For this and more of Bruce’s songs about fathers, The New Yorker has a great collection of videos online.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Springsteen Links - The New Yorker


David Remnick's profile of Bruce Springsteen in The New Yorker is a must read. It could take about an hour to get through it but it's well worth the time.

The piece offers a more frank description of Bruce's relationship with his father, Doug Springsteen, than we're used to reading and this aspect of the piece has grabbed a lot of headlines - along with Bruce's battles with depression.

But there's a lot more to the piece, including candid insights to the band's dynamic (Max Weinberg refers to himself and the band members as 'employees' and Patti Scialfa says her place in the band is more figurative than musical) as well as a transcendental description of Bruce's stage performances that brings you about as close to the real thing as possible. There's also the less told story of original drummer Vini Lopez along with more familiar tales of Bruce's original manager Mike Appel and Bruce writing "Dancing in the Dark."

I was happy to see that the piece bolsters two of my long standing suspicions: that Bruce has had cosmetic surgery and that he's never done drugs. But more than anything, Remnick articulates my appreciation for Bruce in a way that I've never been able to...

Thousands of fans, many of whom had been waiting outside since morning, were allowed to enter the stadium grounds at six o’clock for a show that would not begin until ten. I noticed a few young Spaniards carrying a sign, in English, reading, “Bruce, Thanks for Making Our Lives Better.” I tried to imagine a sign like that for—whom? Lou Reed? AC/DC? Bon Jovi? (“Richie Sambora, Thanks for making our lives better.” Doubtful.) The ultra-sincere interchange between Springsteen and his fans, which looks treacly to the uninitiated and the uninterested, is what distinguishes him and his performances.