“when i look at myself i dont see, the man i wanted to be, somewhere along the line i fell off track, one step up, two steps back”

im ashamed to say that sometimes i can totally relate with the boss

we shall overcome: the seeger sessions
columbia records

bruce springsteen was the first ticket that i ever paid over $100 for. the year was 1985. the show was one of seven to be played at the sports arena here in los angeles.

i paid $115 to sit on the other end of the arena from the stage but not too far up. it was four hours long. i sang to every word. i went alone but i was there with 20,000 people who all felt the same way: the show was priceless; it was worth the LA traffic, it was worth the parking, it was worth the struggle to get tickets to see bruce springsteen at the peak of his popularity.

back in those days some critics compared him to dylan, some to elvis, some to u2. as u2 gets older they seem to be following along the same path as the boss – they seem to be showing their age too. and its unpretty.

this new collection of folk classics from the rich catalogue of pete seeger isnt as much of a tribute as it is an acknowledgement. not just that there are no more born to runs or rosalitas in our favorite rockstar from new jersey, but there arent any nebraskas left in him either.

its a new orleans death march. its a gleeful procession into the casket. its the last bloom of a wild flower determined to show one final sprout of color.

and ultimately its a testament that there is only one bob dylan, who has “traditional” albums before far better, and in a way where the songs become his. when dylan released Froggie Went A Courtin’ on 1992’s “good as ive been to you” he owned it. when bruce does it here, he fumbles, which is tough since the production is so clean and sterile.

the difference is theres no soul in the latest springsteen offerrings. you can say what you want about him marrying patty scalfia, but when he did he jumped the shark. his life might have been better but his music was forgetable, flat, and flimsy. the twinkle left his eye, the muscle left the melodies, the sweat was gone from the songs.

brass bands play and pianos tinkle on this collection but it may as well have been made by robots as theres no heart or majesty. theres no risk or reward. the devil is in the details and theres no sin therefore theres no salvation.

so why the picture of madonna? because she has taught us all how to age. shes taught us all how to keep pushing the envelope as we get older and squeeze out kids. shes taught us how to keep risking cuz she never stopped.

madonna will be in indio this weekend with the hipsters, and bruce will be in palm desert with the other old people who enjoy stale safe folkpopblues.

what mr bruce springsteen needs to do if he wants to make emotional music again is remember what it was like to write those first three records he made. he needs to remember what it was like to write those second three records. and if he cant remember he needs to quit using musicians that smell good, he needs to stop using producers who drive imports, he needs to stop playing guitars that sound right, if he wants to make a blues record or a folk record he needs to drink and get punched in the gut a few times, hard.

and he needs to stop singing like the goateed springsteen and recapture what it was to sing like the scrawny bearded hungry springsteen. or at least grasp why johnny cash could sing a nine inch nails tune in a way that would make you cry.

if the boss was smart he’d record his next album in a basement or a nut house or a haunted hotel or in the projects with the brothas whove never heard of him and dont give a shit if they did. and he needs to do some real songs like hank sr, robert johnson, morrissey, dylan, and billie. and he needs to be pissed off the entire time. tom waits could produce, but i recommend george bush. of course i’ll executive produce which will entail holding two signs. one that says sucks the other that says really sucks.

good non-dance records sound like they were recorded at night. this one was obviously recorded in sweden at noon. it’s plastic. its a pretty girl with makeup and hairspray and liposuction. we wanted a real woman with scars and scrapes and chipped nail polish with a dozen stories to tell as she smoked 100s and sipped out of a dirty glass.

when the pogues kick your ass at “jesse james” it proves that you live in a bubble that needs to be popped.

on the busblog scale of one to four stars this one gets one star. a pity star. for this is the record i would play for someone if i wanted to get them pissed off.

soxaholix + leonardo + bicycle mark interviewed me over the phone

and for that i reluctantly jump on the bandwagon because i love bruce, even now as he is losing his magic.

bruce hasn’t released a complete album since 1984s “born in the usa,” but it’s cool. even that record was produced so poppy and sappy that i cant even really listen to much of it, and i don’t know the last time i played it all the way through. fortunaely super strong songs like “im on fire” “bobby jean” and “no surrender” still hold up big time for me and remain classics. and i would love it if he would rerecord “dancing in the dark” darkly.

and even though its so cliche to say, what i really love is his older stuff like “darkness on the edge of town” and “nebraska”.

“born to run” is almost like staring into the sun, tunes like “jungleland” and “meeting across the river” are a little too much nowadays, but “shes the one” and “backstreets” still give me a chill.

and “thunder road” remains one of the few songs that ive happily committed to memory after long drives on the freeway in the dark singing to myself.

“a screen door slams, mary’s dress waves… and like a vision she dances across the porch as a radio plays… roy orbison singing for the lonely.. hey that’s me and i want you only…”

“the river” is the first record that got me into the boss. i was a kid listening to the rock and roll station when he released that one to much hype and i heard “point blank” on the fm and it nearly blew my mind. this was when songs like “another one bites the dust” was being played when billy squire’s “stroke me” wasn’t on. so when hilburn goes on and on about the gritty stark production of the river, he forgets that bare bones was in. springsteen had the hard core lyrics and earnest delivery. huge difference.

“greetings” and “the wild, the innocent, and the e street shuffle” are gems that i keep in a special place. totally fun, happy records that i never tire of.

post-born in the usa the only record that i really liked was “live 75-85” which did a decent job of capturing the live shows, which, of course, are impossible to bottle. a friend of mine once said that seeing springsteen was like going to a really great baseball game. its big, loud, everyone’s happy, and you don’t need a scorecard to recognize all the players.

later she would say that seeing U2 was like going to a great church.

lately springsteen’s shows have been a little too much like church: somber, forced, ritualized, predictable, fewer and fewer spontaneous miracles, little cleansing after the service, attendance because we “should” not because we’re dying to.

but the boss is back with his old band. he’s back with his wife, his pals, his fans, and all the hype that he deserves. he’s an american icon, like it or not. he’s been the poet laureate of rock who keeps getting his ass kicked by the poet laureate of folk.

in a perfect world, bruce would ask me to produce his new record and i would say, first thing i want you to do is throw out any song that john cougar or tom petty could do better than you. next thing i want you to do is write this next record like its your last record, and not in a sentimental way, but in a way that will resonate for generations to come. live up to the hype, bro. bring back the passion of “mean streets” the fun of “rosalita” and the passion of “im on fire”. i’ll let you do one folk tune, but it’s got to be as good as “johnny 99” or “atlantic city” but lots of people have to die in the song and it has to be set in the old west.

i want to hear clarence blow the horn, not doodle. i want him to compete against the guitars, not provide ambience. i want to hear nils do a guitar solo that makes me think, ok, that’s why you have four guitars on stage. i want to feel the might of the mighty max weinberg. i want to hear a song that i will be forced to memorize again.

these are the demands, i am sure, that weigh heavy on the shoulders of the patron saint of asbury park, but i wouldn’t ask these things if i didn’t think he was capable of achieving them.

wanna see the bruce springsteen that i think of when i had his poster over my bed for 10 years? go rent “no nukes” and watch how he played guitar on his back atop the grand piano. i know he’s older now. but he’s not aged. neil young sure as hell proves that you can rock with gray in your hair.

rarely do i buy cds any more from the store, but today i will buy the rising, and im sure i will be disappointed and im sure that i will not want to hear the stories of the tragedy of 9/11 that bruce allegedly based a lot of this new material around.

but it’s cool. the boss doesn’t need my $15 but he deserves it. and any time he puts out new music i’ll be right there searching for even a nugget of those magically rocking past glory days.

celebrating: the engagement of coulter and heather.