I can’t say this was my all-time favorite Springsteen show. There were a number of songs I somehow did not know and was not sufficiently intrigued by, there were fewer poster selections, fewer band-crowd interactions, no “River,” no “Rosalita,” no “Badlands,” and no “Jungleland.”
That said, it was still a Springsteen show, so there was a lot to love:
--- The comments from the crowd: “20 more songs, 20 more songs!...OMG, he’s 60 and so sexy!”
--- The comments from Bruce: “You’re about to see a band led by a man who has had 30 years of psychiatric care, a band who has had the number one album in America for one consecutive week!...We’re here to bring you the news with a beat, with a beat, with a beat…It’s not about 99% or 1%; it’s about being on the right side of history…A couple of weeks ago, we played a show at the Apollo Theater. All the men and women who worked the stage were our teachers and masters. History? Sam Cooke. Poetry? Smokey Robinson. Religion? Aretha Franklin. Sex Ed? Marvin Gaye. In all of that soul, there was a hint of sadness. That’s what made it real.”
--- The unexpected rhythm shift in “Trapped,” guitar solo in “Adam Raised a Cain,” and full-body spin in “Valentine’s Day.” I should really know what to expect from “The Rising” at this point, but the stream-of-lights still get me.
[Review continued below]
--- The upper deck audience. They were the best upper deck audience I have ever been a part of. They did not care that they were behind the stage; they were out of their seats clapping and singing entire time. A group of girls in the row behind me literally shook me during “Dancer” and “Born to Run,” but it was not just them. The whole section was quiet when they were supposed to be quiet, loud when they were supposed to be loud, and flipped out every time Bruce looked in their direction.
--- The kid in the front row. The kid Bruce plucked from the crowd during “Waitin’ on a Sunny Day” could not sing, but he made up for it with incredible charisma. He told the crowd to get loud without any prompting, he sat down right when Bruce sat down, and he nearly slid across the whole stage!
--- The fact that they featured three of the best new songs: the Tom-Morello-influenced “Jack of All Trades,” the Michelle-Moore-influenced “Rocky Ground,” and Bruce’s own “We Are Alive.”
--- The fact that everything old seemed new. “41 Shots” shifted from Amadu to Treyvaun, “Wrecking Ball” shifted from the Meadowlands to Wall Street, and “Land of Hope and Dreams” shifted from Clarence to his nephew Jake. For me, though, the most memorable change of the night -- and the high point of the concert overall -- was “My City of Ruins.”
Listening to “My City of Ruins” during the show was a whirlwind of emotion. First, I was thrilled to hear it because I had never heard it in concert, and I have used it in class for the past five years for a project on 9/11. In this project, my 100-something students write letters to the 100-something firehouses who lost firefighters on 9/11. The responses they have gotten, I have gotten, and my principal have gotten have been remarkable. Considering this, my second reaction to the song was discomfort because it seemed crass to change the focus of the song to anything other than 9/11.
Ultimately, though, I embraced what they did with it. I found out that the song was originally written to promote the resurgence of Asbury Park, NJ, so adapting it again made sense. Finding hope and meaning in Clarence Clemons’ memory was natural, not disrespectful. When Bruce added moans to the chorus, held the mic in the air, said “you’re here, they’re here, you’re here, they’re here,” and the audience applauded for two straight minutes, it was impossible not to be moved.
Grade: A-
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