The Chris Moeller Archives

Thundercrack! Bruce is Back! A-Train Summer Concert Series #5 - by Aaron Moeller

My brother has a room in his new condo he refers to as "The Cardinals Room". (Ask for a tour at next month's TV Festival.) It’s practically a museum of St. Louis Cardinals memorabilia, with framed photos, World Series programs, and the like. If I were to produce a similar shrine in my own place, I have enough of my own memorabilia that I’d have essentially two choices for a theme – the Cincinnati Reds or Bruce Springsteen. Like a baseball team, the best music has a life-affirming streak that provides daily sustenance and passion – an antidote for a cold and impersonal world. We turn to these things for a little perspective and to feel so much of what life has to offer. The Cincinnati Reds have a storied history but unfortunately haven’t had a winning season since 1999. Being a Bruce Springsteen fan, on the other hand, is like rooting for a baseball team that never loses a game.

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band brought their fall tour through Chicago Sunday for the first of two sold-out United Center shows in support of Magic, their masterpiece of a new album. More than any Springsteen album since Born in the USA, Magic has that classic "Jersey Shore sound" - Clarence Clemons’ honking saxophone over Danny Federici’s organ; heartbreaking piano intros from Roy Bittan and dynamite guitar solos being traded by Nils Lofgren, Little Steven Van Zandt and the Bossman himself.

Maybe it’s the hipster points from having Conan O’Brien’s bandleader and Silvio Dante from The Sopranos in his band, but Springsteen tends to draw significantly younger crowds for his E Street Band tours than he did, for example, on his solo tour of ’05 and last year’s Seeger Sessions folk/gospel revival tour. I noticed in 2003 at US Cellular Field in Chicago that, for the first time, half the crowd was 20-somethings, but never before this year had I seen so many children. There were easily a few hundred kids under ten, wearing their Bruce shirts and sitting with their parents (or grandparents?).

A strange homemade-looking contraption that could be described only as a large mechanical "music machine" with a pounding drum attached and making classic Boardwalk carnival sounds rose up from beneath the stage as the band took their places in the dark. The band looks good. As Bono pointed out in his Rock Hall of Fame induction, Bruce is ageless where other rock stars look like Madame Tussaud’s wax statues. (Hair plugs?) The historically thin Steve is trim again after losing some of that Sopranos pasta paunch that he sported during the 2003 tour. Clarence’s knees are still shot and he leaned on violinist Soozie Tyrell going up and down the steps, but the band’s oldest member also looks as slim as ever.

The audience, fellow prisoners of rock ‘n roll, erupted as "Radio Nowhere", the first Magic single began the show. Seemingly inspired by Little Steven’s Underground Garage satellite radio station devoted to 50-plus years of lightning-speed, garage band rock, the song’s chorus found Bruce shouting his oft-repeated concert stage question, "Is there anybody alive out there?!" and earned thousands of voices speaking back in tongues. The political messages on Magic are subtle and nuanced but nonetheless relentless, and the two-decades old "No Surrender", the song Bruce polished off for his support of John Kerry in 2004, further announced a show that would be low on ballads and heavy on classic rockers.

"Lonesome Day", the lead song off 2002’s The Rising, led into two of the most mysterious songs from Magic: "Gypsy Biker" and the sly title track. We learn that the gypsy biker in question is a returning war veteran, one who may or may not be in a body bag, but one who’s certainly a ghost of his former self. On "Magic", Bruce shared center stage with Soozie Tyrell, who filled in as harmony singer for Patti Scialfa, Bruce’s wife and the mother of their three teenagers. (Patti was absent from the show - due to "a kid thing, that’s all I can tell you", Bruce joked. She was back in action for the Monday show.) "Magic" has straightforward lyrics of a magician’s tricks ("card up my sleeve", "rabbit in my hat", etc.) that morphs into something much more sinister as it blends with the established album theme of a veil of secrecy draped over a trusting, distracted, and disinterested audience. "I’ll cut you in half/ While you’re smiling ear to ear/ And the freedom that you sought’s/ Driftin’ like a ghost amongst the trees". The obvious current president, however, is never mentioned by name.

The Steve Van Zandt influence is strong on the new album. His voice can be heard most prominently among the background vocal mix. The garage rock feel is strong and the album recalls themes whose genesis dates to The River Tour in 1980, the band’s first trip overseas, that found Bruce and Steve, specifically, getting "politicized" for the first time. It was the first time, to paraphrase Steve from an interview earlier this year, the guys witnessed how people from other countries view the United States and how that affected the perception of their music. Ironically, Bruce and President Bush are about the same age, but that early 80's tour pre-dates W’s first trip abroad by nearly two decades.

Chicago is, of course, the transplanted home of the electric blues and Little Steven ripped into some blues riffs that began the most stunning song run of the night. Bruce used a harp mic to absolutely eerie effect, his distorted voice producing a chilling and atmospheric "Reason to Believe". It’s a song with one of the great scene-setting first verses in all musicdom: "Seen a man standin’ over a dead dog, lyin’ by the highway in a ditch/ He’s looking down kinda puzzled, poking that dog with a stick/ Got his car door flung open, he’s standing out on Highway 31/ Like if he stood there long enough, that dog’d get up and run".

The disillusionment of "Reason" led into one of the most righteous, angry songs ever written and a top 5 song in the A-Train Bruce canon, "Adam Raised a Cain". You INHERIT the sins, you inherit the flames, Bruce declares. The Biblical illusions of the lyrics, the awareness of class divisions, the social resonance and sacred anger of a man "born into this life paying for the sins of somebody else’s past" always stood out for me in the early '90s when lesser, irate rockers dominated the radio airwaves and always sounded to me like whiny kids pissed off because they misplaced their Prozac. Then an unmistakable Bo Diddley-beat signaled "She’s the One", a high-energy but tortured love song from Born to Run.

Bruce then had his most extended audience banter and ran through a short list of images he loves about America, including cheeseburgers, motorcycles, and Wrigley Field, which drew obvious cheers but also a chorus of boos. (Bruce assumed they were White Sox fans. I figured a lot of them were Cub fans who haven’t stopped booing their team since game 3 of the Division Series.) Then he mentioned one of his favorite things, the Bill of Rights, and shared some thoughts on civil liberties. At least one lady behind me audibly groaned, probably fearing a political rant, but Bruce kept it short and pointed. He was met with overwhelming applause. As it turns out any sane person can see that civil liberties in our country are eroding as we speak. These thoughts were accompanied by the blaring sax riff that kicks off the new tune "Livin’ in the Future". As my girlfriend said to me, the opening of this song is a sound-alike of "that Bruce song you always sing at karaoke" ("Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out") and the surprising roar of recognition from the crowd probably was partially owed to people thinking he was about to play that 1975 Saturday night party classic. But alas, no. Instead we got "My faith’s been torn asunder, tell me is that rollin’ thunder/ Or just the sinkin’ sound of somethin’ righteous goin’ under?" God, he’s good.

"Livin’ in the Future" is an idealized song about shitty things going down in America – "an ill wind blowin’" – but still having a prayer for change: "Don’t worry darlin’, oh baby don’t you fret/ We’re livin’ in the future, and none of this has happened yet." "The Promised Land" was a natural song to follow and led into the second appearance ever of "Your Own Worst Enemy", a new song which has yet to grab me by the balls like some of the other tunes. (In all, nine of the eleven songs on Magic were performed.) Familiar piano chords signaled the ever-dramatic "Backstreets". (No one, I've noticed, ever sits during any song from Born to Run.) "Cadillac Ranch", the only song in the set from The River, was some bad-ass roadhouse and found Steve and Bruce hamming it up as they again shared a microphone. "Devil’s Arcade" is the last song on the new album (not counting Bruce’s first ever hidden track!) and is a song about a soldier dreaming of home. I haven’t found my way into this song yet either, for some reason, and took the opportunity to sit down for a spell.

When I recognized the next song, I remained sitting for a bit so I could make a point of standing when Bruce inevitably called out to "Come on up for the Rising!" Bruce's intention, as he has often said, is that every show would be one part dance party, one part tent revival, one part political rally. Rebirth and renewal is the message that rules the day.

Then we were treated to the two best songs on the new album. "Last to Die", as in "whose blood will spill, whose heart will break/ who’ll be the last to die, for a mistake", is the most specific new anti-war song. Led by Steve’s blistering guitar and anchored by Soozie’s violin, the song rocks. A masterpiece of minimalist writing, the Magic album as a whole finds Bruce continuing the stories of characters developed on his earlier albums. No introduction is necessary as he's already defined them so well in all those perfect four minute short stories. Now we know right where they stand. The songs now may seemingly be about a failing relationship, or the loss of a good friend, but we can also see how they speak to the failed promises of our nation's leaders or the loss of good men and women overseas.

Then we heard the lines of the album’s penultimate song, "Long Walk Home", a sharp reminder that we have a long way to go before we’ll get this mess cleaned up. It’s going to take some patience. And hope. But then in a callback to his earlier comments about the Bill of Rights, he belted out the words that serve as the climax of the album. In this country, never forget, it’s the people that have the final say. He delivered the strongest lines as fierce as a growling, passionate artist can, enunciating as clearly as I’ve ever heard him:

"My father said, ’Son, we’re lucky in this town
It’s a beautiful place to be born.
It just wraps its arms around you.
Nobody crowds you, nobody goes it alone.
You know that flag
flying over the court house
Means certain things are set in stone
Who we are, what we’ll do
And what we won’t.’

It’s gonna be a long walk home.
Hey pretty Darling, don’t wait up for me
Gonna be a long walk home."

Then he played "Badlands" like his life depended on it.

The encores brought the lovely new "Girls in Their Summer Clothes", a lovely Chamberlain-and-strings tribute to the music of Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys. At the first refrain, he encouraged the crowd to sing in his place - quite the leap of faith for a song that's roughly one month old and has received zero airplay on mainstream radio. For the most part, the crowd knew it. This is a guy, remember, with a very loyal audience. The song was dedicated to Patti, the man’s auburn headed muse who once inspired the lines "Listen up, stud, your life’s been wasted/ ‘Til you’ve gotten down on your knees and tasted/ A red-headed woman."

He introduced the ancient "Thundercrack" as having been the first show-stopper that the band ever played, including at a gig at the old Chicago club Quiet Night. (They opened for the Persuasions there in 1973.) That was a long time ago, Bruce said, "before the fire". Older even than "Rosalita" or "Kitty’s Back" as a full-tilt band workout, one can see how Bruce and the band had no trouble filling up three hour shows even when they only had two albums worth of material. The song has three different refrains - this is not minimalist songwriting. Each E Streeter had their time to shine on this one, but it was specifically Nils who had the thundering guitar solos as Bruce led the faithful in the shouts of "Sha la, sha la, ah ah, oh oh".

The stage presentation of the band is so iconic by now. Nils and Clarence on stage left. Soozie (and usually Patti) on the far right. Dan Federici an anchor in the back corner with that organ that Bruce calls "the true sound of the Jersey Shore". Roy Bittan opposite, looking distinguished at his piano, always "the Dean of the University of Musical Perversity". Garry Tallent, back middle, "the Foundation of the E Street Nation" holding down the sound on bass. And Steve just to the right of Bruce, but constantly stalking the stage, mugging for the crowd, sharing Bruce’s microphone like they’re still rehearsing in a rented E Street room, still beautiful losers on the Boardwalk dreaming their rock ‘n roll dreams. And what can be said about Max? Maybe it’s from the workout of having a nightly gig on TV for fifteen years, or just thousands of nights supplying the E Street thunder, watching Bruce’s signals and audibles like a hawk, constantly stopping and starting on a dime, the long time rumors can now be confirmed: Max Weinberg is the greatest drummer in the history of rock and roll.

A few more superlatives: "Born to Run" usually shows up on lists of the greatest rock and roll songs of all-time. It’s often number one. The world can be divided into two kinds of people – people who have yet to attend an E Street Band show and may doubt that ranking, and those that know it’s true. Still, this was the best version I’d witnessed in my six E Street shows. And it was all because of the crowd. Chicago loves them some Springteen and it was a thrill to see so many kids going crazy for a song recorded the same year that an old-timer like me was born. "Dancing in the Dark", as Bruce’s top charting hit, is always a smash with the crowd, even though it never seems to be included in fan polls of favorite Boss songs. I guess it’s a little too "pop" for some of the hardcore fans. But they're not fooling anyone. I know a great song when I hear one. And I know frenzy and euphoria when I see it.

The lyrics scrolled across the monitor for the show closer "American Land", a high-energy, foot-stomping, immigrant-encouraging, crowd-can’t-help-but-sing-a-long tune Bruce wrote on tour with the Sessions Band last year that serves as an Irish-flavored jig, complete with Clarence on one of those pennywhistle things. I’ll give Bruce the final words. See you at the XCel Center in St. Paul next Friday:

"There’s diamonds in the sidewalk the gutters lined in song
Dear, I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
There’s treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
Who will make his home in the American Land"

posted by Anonymous @ 8:54 PM