Pearl Jam's new DVD review
choice
Well, I got mine yesterday, and a friend and I watched it last night...
It took us 5 hours to get through, because we had to keep stopping to
catch our breaths! Spectacular! That's all I have to say... this is
the best thing they've ever put out.
Not only was it an incredible performance, but the setlist was
fantastic, unlike the rather boring TB2000 setlist. And the filming and
sound are just wonderful.
Lots of Stoney, even more so than Mikey, and those of you who think
Stoney just stands there, will get a chance to see why Stone's side
rules... The closeups were right on target with who was soloing. There
are so many highlights, I just don't know where to begin.
This version of Half Full has got to be the best rock performance in
history. Perfect.
Mike was consistently playing the best guitar work I've seen him play
(nothing in the world like when Mikey throws his head back, closes his
eyes, and lets it flow), Eddie was in a great mood and singing voice, as
was Stone, and everything just comes together in this performance.
Ben Harper's performances on Daughter and Immortality were great; I
didn't realize that he didn't know he was coming out on Daughter.
The stage was bouncing (watch the mic stands) so much during DTE, and
when they came back out for the encore, Ed tells the story about them
being part of history with only 3 other bands, Grateful Dead, Iron
Maiden and Bruce Springsteen, in making the Garden rock like that. And
everyone starts yelling "Bruuuuuce".
Love Boat Captain really makes a good opener, as it starts off slow and
then by the end, they have the whole audience going. In My Tree is the
best Matt version I've heard, and it's a great song. Gimme Some Truth
and Lowlight were highlights. The end of Wishlist is so good, it's
painful. I was at the side of the stage, and it was great to see almost
everyone in the place raise their hands "I wish I were the cause, of 15
million New Yorker's hands raised up to the sky."
Rearviewmirror's jam was incredible. This is what PJ is about.
The extras are great, with the Bushleaguer montage the best. The music
is from Sendai (at least the ending is), but with images from many
different shows with the mask. Mostly from Aus/Japan, since they didn't
use the mask very often in the US. And kudos to PJ for including all
the bits that Ed did to the Bush mask, from punching it, to throwing it
on the ground, etc. They did leave out the french kiss... But the
dancing with the mask... so funny! It was always so creepy to see Ed's
lithe, graceful body dancing with Dubbya's head!
The Fortunate Son montage was good, too. They used the version with
Johnny Marr from Perth.
Throw Your Arms with Mark Seymour (who wrote the song) is very special,
for those who haven't heard this.
Thank you, Pearl Jam, for once again exceeding the high expectations I
had of you!
--
Laurie
"Our mission is urgent - to unite Americans in a New Patriotism. A New
American Patriotism that ensures our nation's security, promotes real
economic opportunity, defends individual liberties, and restores our
cooperative role within the community of nations." - Wesley Clark
www.clark04.com
Zeke
And to think I chose the "el cheapo, nah...it's OK... just wait until
everything's in the warehouse, put it all in one huge box and ship it on a
slow salmon boat from Seattle" option. Arrrgh!!
Jack Harris, you got this thing yet? Anyone else?
disi...@NOSPAMcomcast.net
Grapefruit, it's a fruit! It's an ashtray!
"choice" <cho...@rcn.com> wrote in message news:3FB12C48...@rcn.com...
Jack Harris
I put something in the mail for you on my way to Galveston earlier today.
Someone posted a pretty good version of the recent show in Seattle. That
must have been some show. The files were posted as mp3's - if I can find a
good shn version I'll send it along later. It looks as though they put
mostly mp3's up in their binaries group. Not sure why they do that. I may
have to look into this bit torrent business to find the shn's. I wonder if
there's a version floating around similar to those they put out during the
last couple of tours?
Listen to this 'age' story. When I'm practicing at the range I have a Sony
compact cd player that fits into a belt I can put around my waist. I run the
cord up my back and I can listen to music while I'm hitting balls. Last week
one of the young pros at this course asked me what I listen to while
practicing - ..."we're betting it's something classical..."blah, blah, blah.
I turn the player on and give him the headphones and he liked to shit.
Couldn't believe it was Pearl Jam. I gave him the discs I had and a couple
of days later gave him a couple more shows. Classical - when he said that I
laughed my ass off.
JH
"Zeke" <disi...@NOSPAM.comcast.net> wrote in message
news:OFgsb.125066$mZ5.848804@attbi_s54...
SMBalloon
<jharrisI...@quantumsystems.com> writes:
>No, I haven't picked it up yet but I plan on having it before the weekend.
>
I picked it up earlier today and watched it for about an hour. All I can say
is what a crime it was that Springsteen and his management dropped the ball and
didn't see fit to have one of the 1978 shows professionally filmed and
recorded. Because without any documented history of those 1978 shows, it will
now be impossible to ever prove that Sprinsteen was the best live act in rock
history.
Steve (SMBalloon) -- remove nospam to email me
Jack Harris
"SMBalloon" <smba...@aol.comnospam> wrote in message
news:20031111230007...@mb-m27.aol.com...
Not to those who were fortunate enough to see one of those
shows....................
JH
billyi
I know that various documentaries have shown some pretty clean-looking
footage from as far back as his "club" days...
"SMBalloon" <smba...@aol.comnospam> wrote in message
news:20031111230007...@mb-m27.aol.com...
Milwaukee & Lawndale
> From what era is the earliest professionally filmed Springsteen show?
> I know that various documentaries have shown some pretty clean-looking
> footage from as far back as his "club" days...
Some of the '78 vcds (Largo, etc., while grainy, do seem fairly
professional. They have dual, overlaid video images, fade outs & other
stuff. Then again, I'm not knowledgable, or fussy, about such things.
I wonder if the '78 uber stuff is a big step up?
It would be a shame if that stuff isn't available "in some fashion,"
because, as Steve points out, without high-quality footage of an entire '78
concert, Pearl Jam wins the title hands down and without it even being much
of a contest. I don't say that based on either dvd, it's based on seeing
both shows this summer.
Sure, we know that Bruce Springsteen in 1978 was the most powerful live
concert ever (nothing even comes close). But the rest of the world doesn't
know that. And a great as current day Bruce is, I doubt his Barcelona dvd
will deliver the type of experience Pearl Jam's MSG dvd will deliver. I
could be wrong, but don't think I will be.
Of course this seems to bother me a lot more than it seems to bothers Bruce.
So maybe it's not that big of a deal? In either case I'm glad to be getting
them both... SOME-day!!!!
Milwaukee & Lawndale
figured I'd post under that handle, but the post got away from me. It's now
a frigging short story or a novel or something. It's gonna take out a few
hundred more miles of line before I can reel it back in. Maybe I'll get to
it over the weekend? From what I can see, it's definitely a keeper. OK,
Zeke coming up!
disi...@NOSPAMcomcast.net
Grapefruit, it's a fruit! It's an ashtray!
"Milwaukee & Lawndale" <disi...@NOSPAM.comcast.net> wrote in message
news:MUjsb.175213$HS4.1466654@attbi_s01...
jimmyconway75
Playing it now!
BP (lost dogs, too)
jimmyconway75
that various documentaries have shown some pretty clean-looking footage from as
The official Rosalita video is from Phoenix on the Darkness tour, and we know
that several other songs were filmed that night. Not sure if the whole show
was shot (the Marsh books may say), but if it was, I'd guess that's probably
the earliest complete pro-shot show.
BP
Mystic
>is what a crime it was that Springsteen and his management dropped the ball and
>didn't see fit to have one of the 1978 shows professionally filmed and
>recorded.
I would love to have seen a special edition of both 78 Winterland
shows issued to DVD. Now that would have been the heavyweight
contender for champion of the world.........................
-Mystic-
PS: I'm sure there are various 78 shows that were taped but have never
been considered for any type of release............
Mystic
> I would love to have seen a special edition of both 78 Winterland
>shows issued to DVD.
Speaking on the subject of Winterland, the new Dead 78 show is a real
class package brought to live through the miracle of new
technology...............
-Mystic-
Burt Busk
jimmyconway75 <jimmyc...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:20031112021108...@mb-m22.aol.com...
If that wasn't, then there's still the No Nukes show from '79. Not a full
Bruce show, but quite a few songs.
choice
Hey you, you change your spots more than anyone I know! (your id in
here, I mean).
That live boot you gave me is from '78, right? Wish I'd seen one of
those shows to compare, but the MSG show on this new DVD at least puts
PJ in competition! But Bruce *did* cause the stage to bounce before PJ
did...
Laurie
choice
I wasn't that excited about this "rarities" cd, because most of the
songs I've got in one way or another, but I listened to the first disk
last night, and all I can say is, PJ have never let me down with the
quality of their stuff, and this is no exception! The outtakes are
probably outtakes for this reason; they are very unusual songs, not your
typical PJ. But they are all very good, especially Undone, Hitchhiker
and Fatal. And the other songs are great takes and fun songs. The
packaging is wonderful, and the whole thing has a cohesive, album feel
about it, not just a collection of random songs. Really well done. I
can see why one reviewer said that this album is closer to the PJ at the
peak of their popularity, even though most of the outtakes are from
recent albums. A few are older and have the Ten-era sound, but most
seem influenced by more modern bands, such as the stuff Ten-era fans
would *now* be listening to.
Zeke
> Hey you, you change your spots more than anyone I know! (your id in
> here, I mean).
But at least I let ya know when I do.
Hang around here long enough and you'll see trolls changing screen names
faster than EV changes hairstyles. All the time pretending the new persona
is who they really are.
> That live boot you gave me is from '78, right?
Yea and it's a good one (Piece de Resistance for anyone reading). I only
wish it had better sound. It's decent sound considering the era and fact
that it's a boot, but those PJ boots have spoiled everyone.
> the MSG show on this new DVD at least puts PJ in competition!
Definetly. Especially considering they're a band, whereas Bruce has always
been the focal point. 1978 was special because certain things (some
positive, many negative) had aligned perfectly. Too much to type, if anyone
knows of an old newspaper or magazine article that positions the '78
motivators (lawsuit, dawning maturity, etc.) that made Darkness well...
DARKNESS, posting it here would be much appreciated!
Bluetele
Go back a bit further to at least 1973. Brucebase provides the following
details.
01/05/73 - AHMANSON THEATRE, LOS ANGELES, CA
SPIRIT IN THE NIGHT / CIRCUS SONG / TOKYO / THUNDERCRACK / TWIST AND SHOUT
ONE show, triple billing, held in the sold out 2,000-seat Ahmanson Theatre,
with Springteen opening for DR HOOK & THE MEDICINE SHOW and headliner NEW
RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE. This concert is often confused with the private
CBS Sales Convention show (see 27 / 7 / 73 for details). However the
Ahmanson Theatre show was a normal, public admission event - but
incorporating an unusual format. Organized and promoted by CBS as "A Week To
Remember" - 7 consecutive nightly shows, each show featuring 3 different CBS
artists. Bruce and the band flew to L.A. on April 30th, stayed at the Hilton
hotel, performed on May 1st and returned east on May 3rd. The
above-mentioned setlist represents Bruce's complete 40-minute performance.
The recording of "Circus Song" from this show was issued promotionally by
CBS on July 7, 1973 on as part of its "Playback" EP series. The remainder of
the audio from this show is uncirculating, except for the brief snippits of
"Spirit" and "Thundercrack" that accompany its corresponding video snippits.
All 7 shows in the Ahmanson series were filmed in color by Arnold Levine
Productions on behalf of CBS, whose intention was to have material to show
its reps at the CBS Sales Convention in July. This happened, Bruce's
complete performance was shown several times at the Convention - but has
never been shown anywhere since. It remains in CBS's vault. Brief snippits
of "Circus Song" and "Thundercrack" were utilized in late 1973 by CBS as
part of a promo-only video clip created to promote the newly-released "Wild
& Innocent LP. This clip readily circulates and, indeed, was shown in the
VH1 Rocumentary. The frustratingly brief film excerpt of Springsteen
performing "Spirit In The Night" on piano that was shown in the 1998 "Bruce
Springsteen: A Secret History" BBC Documentary - it's from this show.
"Tokyo" was preceded by the Ducky Slattery monologue and at the conclusion
of "Thundercrack" a giant New Jersey Turnpike sign descended from the
ceiling - the only time this prop was ever utilized (see photo below).
"Twist And Shout" was the encore.
http://www.springsteen.org.uk/gig1973.htm#12a
billyi
a bearded Springsteen doing "Thundercrack" from back in the days (I think it
was aired on one of those VH1 or MTV documentaries).
The entire thing exists?!?
And also somewhere in the vaults is some professionally shot footage from
the DARKNESS tour?
And (I presume) the entire NO NUKES performance?
Dasm....and they're releasing a dvd from last year next week?
Sorry, I've yet to really drum up a lot of excitement over next week's
release.
Makes me want to weep.
Maybe someday...
"Bluetele" <Blue...@rcn.comOBVIOUSSPAMBLOCK> wrote in message
news:bouoqu$d4j$1...@bob.news.rcn.net...
jimmyconway75
details.
>
>01/05/73 - AHMANSON THEATRE, LOS ANGELES, CA
>
>SPIRIT IN THE NIGHT / CIRCUS SONG / TOKYO / THUNDERCRACK / TWIST AND SHOUT>>>
Yeah, I remembered the Springsteen Circus Song and Thundercrack stuff being
filmed, but I was thinking of complete shows in terms of being a full-length
tour show...not five songs in 40 minutes. But you are correct. :)
BP
Zeke
To think that in Jan of 1973 I could have crawled 2 miles down Belmont
Avenue and seen Bruce opening for the Persuasions, Arrrgh!!!
disi...@NOSPAMcomcast.net
Grapefruit, it's a fruit! It's an ashtray!
"billyi" <billy...@NOSPAMprodigy.net> wrote in message
news:7BCsb.24054$rT7....@newssvr32.news.prodigy.com...
Bluetele
billyi
"Bluetele" <Blue...@rcn.comOBVIOUSSPAMBLOCK> wrote in message
news:bov14i$ad9$1...@bob.news.rcn.net...
billyi
40 minute show....along with some DARKNESS footage...along with some NO
NUKES footage...along with some RIVER or BITUSA footage in a heartbeat over
what's hitting the stores next week.
For me, a hodge-podge of his true glory days captured on dvd would be worth
a king's ransom to me compared to a complete show from THE RISING tour...
jimmyconway75
that positions the '78 motivators (lawsuit, dawning maturity, etc.) that made
Darkness well... DARKNESS, posting it here would be much appreciated!>>>
I've posted part of the Marsh/Rolling Stone piece from '78 below and will post
second part in subsequent post. Doesn't exactly answer your questions above,
but touches a bit on the history. Definitive account seems to be his book.
Bruce Springsteen Raises Cain
A week's worth of unparalleled rock & roll
Los Angeles, Tuesday, July 4th
One of Bruce Springsteen's most popular early songs is called "4th of July,
Asbury Park (Sandy)." That he is spending this Independence Day on the shores
of the wrong ocean is an irony that escapes no one, including himself. L.A. is
not terra incognita, but Springsteen does not yet reign here as he does back
east, and perhaps the time is auspicious to change that. Although he has been
up all night mixing tapes recorded at his last concert (Saturday night, in
Berkeley), he is at the pool soaking up the sun by eleven a.m.
If God had invented a hotel for rock bands, it probably would look like the
Sunset Marquis, where Springsteen and the E Street Band are staying. Nestled on
a steep side street just below Sunset Strip, the Marquis is a combination
summer camp and commune. Its rooms are laid out around the swimming pool and
guests on the first floor use the pool terrace as a sort of patio. In the
daytime, the poolside is jammed, and at night, it's easy to tell who's home by
the lights inside, behind curtained glass doors. Springsteen, the band, their
crew and entourage occupy thirty rooms, including all those around the pool.
At noon, producer/manager Jon Landau, Bruce and I disappear into Springsteen's
room to play the Berkeley concert mixes. There are two mixes of an eight-minute
rendition of "Prove It All Night" that shatters the LP version, and one mix of
an unnamed, shorter instrumental, often called "Paradise by the Sea," which
opens the second half of his concerts. Even on a small cassette player, it's
clear that something considerable is going on.
For years people have been begging Springsteen to make a live album, and "Prove
It All Night" shows why. The song is considered the lightest item on Darkness
on the Edge of Town, his new album, but onstage it becomes what pianist Roy
Bittan, for one, thinks is the most exciting song of the show, featuring a
lengthy guitar and keyboard improvisation that sounds like an unholy alliance
between the Yardbirds and Bob Dylan. When the introduction gives way to the
melody of the song, "Prove It" is transformed from something potentially light
and dismissible into an emotional crucible. Hearing it, you may wonder if
"Prove It All Night" is a hit single, but you know it's a great song.
"Paradise by the Sea" is its alter ego. Only Springsteen, touring behind a new
album, would have come up with this to open the second half of the show: a
five-minute instrumental featuring Clarence Clemons' sax and Danny Federici's
organ, which simultaneously evokes Duane Eddy and Booker T. and the MGs.
Clemons walks into the room with an unbelievably joyous look on his face, and
when the tape ends, he takes Bruce by the arm and shouts, "Everybody into the
pool!" The next sound is a series of splashes, and in a few moments they
reappear, bathing suits dripping, and listen again, then repeat the
performance. Soon, the tiny hotel bedroom is crowded with half a dozen people
dripping wet and exuberant.
At 6:30 p.m., Bruce is at KMET-FM to do an on-the-air interview with disc
jockey Mary Turner. There are a couple of bottles of champagne, which may be a
mistake; Bruce gets loose pretty easily. And in fact, he is a little sloshed as
the interview begins, but Turner plays it perfectly, fishing for stories. She
gets at least one winner.
"When my folks moved out to California," Bruce begins in response to a question
about whether he really knows "a pretty little place in Southern
California/Down San Diego way" as he claims in "Rosalita," "my mom decided --
see my father and I would fight all the time -- and she decided that we should
go to Tijuana [he laughs his hoarse laugh, reserved for the truly absurd]. So
we got in the car and drove down there, arguing all the way. First I drove and
he yelled at me, and then he drove and I yelled at him.
"Anyway, we finally go there, and of course, my old man is the softest-hearted
guy in the world. Within fifteen minutes, some guy has sold him some watch that
must've run for all of an hour and a half before it stopped. And then some guy
comes up and says, 'Hey would you guys like to have your picture taken on a
zebra?'
"Well, we looked at each other -- who could believe this, right? Zebras are in
Africa. And so we said, 'Well if you've got a zebra, we definitely want to have
our picture taken.' So we give him ten bucks and he takes us around this
corner, and he's got . . . he's got a damn donkey with stripes painted on its
side. And he pulls out these two hats -- one says Pancho, one says Cisco -- I
swear -- and he sits us on the donkey and takes our picture. My mother's still
got that picture. But that is all I knew about Southern California at the time
I wrote 'Rosalita.'"
This is the easiest I have ever heard Bruce speak of his father. "Adam Raised a
Cain," from the new album, may have exorcised a lot of ghosts. In some of the
stories Bruce has told onstage about their relationship, however, his father
seems like a demon, which of course, he is not.
In fact, Douglas Springsteen has lived a very rough working-class life. For a
great deal of Bruce's childhood, his family (he has two sisters, both younger)
shared a house with his grandparents while his father worked at an assortment
of jobs -- in a factory, as a gardener, as a prison guard -- never making as
much as $10,000 a year. Later he moved the family from New Jersey to northern
California, where he is now a bus driver. Bruce says that the tales of their
conflicts are true ("I don't make 'em up"), but that they're meant to be
"universal." He is not exactly enthusiastic about discussing the relationship,
although in a couple of the songs that didn't make it onto Darkness,
particularly "The Promise" and "Independence Day," he has chronicled his
preoccupation with fathers as thoroughly as did John Steinbeck in East of Eden,
the film that inspired "Adam."
Bruce is so loose by now that when an ad for Magic Mountain's roller coaster --
the largest in the world -- comes on, he discusses great roller coasters he has
known, and his desire to see this one. "You wanna date?" he asks Turner, in
front of who knows how many listeners. She makes the perfect reply: "Only if we
sit in the front seat."
After the interview, we head to the car and a beach house in Santa Monica,
where there's a promise of food and fireworks. We race straight out Santa
Monica Boulevard to the freeway. It's like something out of a Steve McQueen
movie (Bullitt). I haven't spent as reckless a moment as this one in years. But
Bruce, who isn't driving, is determined to see those fireworks. "C'mon," he
says, over and over again. "I don't wanna miss 'em." He's like a little boy,
and the car whips along, straight into a traffic jam at the end of the Santa
Monica Freeway, where we can see hints of the fireworks -- blue, red, gold,
green -- cascading out over the ocean.
It's a chill night and the party is outside, Band and crew members shiver on
the patio, chewing on cold sandwiches (Swiss cheese, ham, turkey, roast beef)
and sucking down beer and soda. Bruce quickly decides this won't do. He heads
for the gate leading to the beach. "C'mon," he says to one and all. "Let's walk
up to the pier. I want a hot dog."
And so we strike out down the beach. The pier is a mile south, far enough so
that it's lights are only a glow on the horizon. And covering the beach the
entire distance are people shooting off their own fireworks, Roman candles and
skyrockets. We haven't gone a hundred yards before the scene has become a
combat zone. I suggest a strategic retreat to the highway. Bruce gives me a
look. "C'mon, what's the worst that can happen? A rocket upside the head?" He
giggles with joy and keeps trudging on through the sand.
The rockets are exploding directly over our heads now, and once in a while,
closer than that. A rocket upside the head is not unimaginable. Bruce strikes
out closer to the water, where the sand is more firmly packed and the walking
is easier. Down here there are other sorts of activity: lovers in sleeping bags
and drinkers sitting in sand pits, nursing themselves against the chill with
liquor. The rockets, fewer now, drift out into the water to die with a hiss or
a fizzle, and Bruce Springsteen moves through it all, just another cloud in a
hurricane, a natural force or maybe just another kid.
Two hot dogs with relish and an hour of pinball later, we walk back along the
highway to the car and zip back to the hotel. Tour manager Jim McHale, David
Landau (Warren Zevon's lead guitarist and Jon's brother) and booking agent
Barry Bell are talking in Jon's room when Bruce bursts through the poolside
curtains. His face is glowing. "We're goin' to make the hit," he shouts, and
ducks back out. McHale's jaw drops and he races from the room. "I think they're
going to paint the billboard," says David.
The raid isn't completely a surprise. Sunday night, driving up the Strip on the
way to see The Buddy Holly Story, Bruce had first noticed the billboard looming
above a seven-story building just west of the Continental Hyatt House.
Billboards are a Hollywood institution -- they're put up for every significant
album and concert appearance -- and this one uses the Darkness cover photo,
poorly cropped, to promote both the new record and the group's Forum appearance
tomorrow night. As we passed this enormous monument, which rears up forty feet
above the building, Bruce had groaned and slumped in his seat. "That is the
ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life," he said.
The billboard is only a few blocks up the street. According to all accounts,
Springsteen, Clemons, bass guitarist Garry Tallent and several crew members
approached with some stealth the office building on which the billboard is
perched. Much to their surprise, the building was wide open, and the elevator
quickly took them to the roof. There, McHale, perhaps figuring that cleverness
is better than a bust, quickly organized them. There were twenty cans of black
spray paint, quickly distributed, and Bruce, Garry and Clarence quickly took
positions on the paperhangers' ledge. Bell was positioned across the street to
watch for cops. At a signal from McHale, the painting began: PROVE IT ALL NIGHT
spread across the billboard from edge to edge, the middle words nearly lost in
the dark photo of Bruce. Then Bruce stood on Clemons' shoulders and painted
another legend above NIGHT: E STREET, it said. As they were clambering down, a
signal came -- the cops. Some headed back for the elevator, but Bruce, Clarence
and McHale left Cagney-style, down the outside fire escape. It was a false
alarm anyway.
In the hotel lobby at a quarter to three, Bruce is exhilarated. "You shoulda
been there," he says, running over the event like a successful general fresh
from battle. Was he worried about getting caught? "Naw," he says. "I figured if
they caught us, that was great, and if we got away with it, that was even
better." He looks down at himself, hands black with paint, boots ruinously
dusty from the beach, and laughs. "There it is," he says. "Physical evidence .
. . The only thing is, I wanted to get to my face and paint on a mustache. Bu
tit was just too damn high." He terms the paint job, "an artistic improvement."
Wednesday, July 5th
Last night, as we were getting into the car after the KMET interview, Bruce
began to talk about the reviews Darkness on the Edge of Town has been getting.
It is a subject on which he qualifies as something of an expert: more has been
written about him -- and about what has been written on him -- than any other
rock performer of recent years, with the possible exception of Mick Jagger. The
miracle is, I guess, that the scars barely show -- instead Springsteen looks at
the press with avid interest.
"It's a weird thing about those reviews," Bruce says. "You can find any
conceivable opinion in them: one guy says the record's exactly like Born to Run
and it's great, the next one says it's not like Born to Run and it's great, the
next one says, it's not like Born to Run and it's awful." This amuses him. The
nearly unanimous opinion that the album is grim and depressing doesn't.
It's the title, I suggest. "I know, I know," he says impatiently. "But I put in
the first few seconds of 'Badlands,' the first song on the album, those lines
about 'I believe in the love and the hope and the faith.' It's there on all
four corners of the album" By which he means the first and last songs on each
side: "Badlands" and "Racing in the Street," "The Promised Land" and the title
song. He is clearly distressed: he meant Darkness to be "relentless," not grim.
Later, I ask him why the album lacks the humor that buoys his shows. "In the
show, it's a compilation of all the recorded stuff," he says in the halting way
he uses when he's taking something seriously. "If you go back to The Wild and
Innocent, 'Rosalita' is there, and all that stuff. But when I was making this
particular album, I just had a specific thing in mind. And one of the important
things was that it had to be just a relentless . . . just a barrage of the
particular thing.
"I got an album's worth of pop songs, like 'Rendezvous' and early English-style
stuff. I got an album's worth right now, and I'm gonna get it out somehow. I
wanna do an album that's got ten or eleven things like that on it. But I didn't
feel it was the right time to do that, and I didn't want to sacrifice any of
the intensity of the album by throwing in 'Rendezvous,' even though I knew it
was popular from the show."
The other criticism that is easily made of Darkness concerns the repetition of
certain images: cars, street life, abandonment by or of women, family and
friends. Those who like this call it style; those who don't say Springsteen is
drilling a dry hole. But perhaps Springsteen's greatest and most repeated image
is the lie.
"It's hard to explain without getting too heavy. What it is, it's the
characters' commitment. In the face of all the betrayals, in the face of all
the imperfections that surround you in whatever kind of life you lead, it's the
characters' refusal to let go of their own humanity, to let go of their own
belief in the other side. It's a certain loss of innocence -- more so than in
the other albums."
I drove out to the Forum this afternoon with Obie. Obie is twenty-five, and she
has been Bruce Springsteen's biggest fan for more than a decade. When he was
still just a local star, she waited overnight for tickets to his shows to make
certain she'd have perfect seats. She is now secretary to Miami Steve Van
Zandt, Springsteen's guitarist and manager/producer of Southside Johnny and the
Asbury Jukes. This means what while Springsteen is on tour, Obie is the de
facto manager of the Asbury Jukes. But she's also something more. She makes
some of the jackets and suits Bruce wears onstage. She is also a historian;
there are a thousand Asbury Park legends behind her twinkling eyes. More than
anything, she is a fan who counts the days between Springsteen shows. Her
loyalty is rewarded. Whenever she comes to a show, in any town, the front-row
center is reserved for her.
It is partly this that makes Bruce Springsteen so attractive: he is surrounded
by real-life characters that form the kind of utopian community most of us lost
when we graduated high school; one of the reasons Springsteen is such a
singular performer is that he has never lost touch with this decidedly
noncosmopolitan gang.
Part of the legend is the E Street Band. "Ya know, you can tell by looking at
'em," Bruce explains to me, "that this isn't a bunch of guys with a whole lot
in common. But somehow the music cuts right through all that."
There's a lot to cut. Bassist Garry Tallent is a consummate rockabilly addict
who looks the part. He's been known to use Brylcreem. Organist Danny Federici
has an angel face that could pass for the kind of tough guy Harvey Keitel plays
in Fingers. Pianist Roy Bittan and drummer Max Weinberg are seasoned pros,
veterans of recording studios and Broadway pit bands. Miami Steve Van Zandt is
a perpetual motion machine, a comic version of Keith Richards' Barbary pirate
act, with a slice of small-town-boy-made-good on the side. And Clarence
Clemons, last of all, dwells in a land all his own, not quite like the universe
the rest of us inhabit, though it is seemingly available to all comers. Clemons
transforms any room he enters, as a six-foot plus black man with the bulk of a
former football player often can do, but even in his own digs at the Marquis,
there's something special happening -- his hospitality is perfect, and it is in
Clarence's room that the all-night part is most likely to run.
Bruce stands distinctly outside this group. "It's weird," he says, "'cause it's
not really a touring band or just a recording band. And it's definitely me, I'm
a solo act, y'know." But there is also a sense in which Bruce Springsteen does
not mesh in any society, and it has a great deal to do with what makes him so
obsessive about his music.
Before he landed a record contract, all of the Asbury Park musicians held day
jobs -- Garry Tallent worked in a music store, Clemons was a social worker, Van
Zandt was in the construction union. The exception, always, was Bruce, who
never held any other job, apparently because he could not conceive of doing
anything else. At age eight, when he first heard Presley, lightning struck, and
when he picked up the guitar at thirteen, another bolt hit him. "When I got the
guitar," he told me Wednesday night, "I wasn't getting out of myself. I was
already out of myself. I knew myself, and I did not dig me. I was getting into
myself."
By fourteen, he was in his first band; by sixteen, he was so good that when he
practiced in his manager's garage, neighborhood kids would stand on milk crates
at the windows with their noses pressed to the glass, just to hear. The only
other things besides music that ever meant much to him, Springsteen says, were
surfing and cars. But nothing -- even girls -- ever got in the way of his
obsession with his music; there is a certain awe in the way that people who
have known him for many years speak of his single-minded devotion to playing.
It's as if he always knew his destiny, and while this hasn't made him cold --
he is one of the friendliest people I know -- it has given him considerable
distance from everyday relationships. One does not ever think of Bruce
Springsteen married and settled down, raising a family, having kids; that would
be too much monkey business.
What keeps the band so tight is the two-to-three hour sound check before each
gig. Today's began at 3:30 p.m. -- it's a 7:30 show on the ticket -- and didn't
end until nearly seven. In part, these are informal band rehearsals, with Bruce
working up new material: as we enter the hall at five, he is singing Buddy
Holly's "Rave On," a number he has never done live. But there's more to it than
that.
On this tour, Springsteen's sound mixer is Bruce Jackson, a tall blond,
Australian who worked for Elvis Presley for several years. He is amazed at
Springsteen's perfectionism. "At every date," he says, "he goes out and sits in
every section of the hall to listen to the sound. And if it isn't right, even
in the last row, I hear about it, and we make changes. I mean every date, too
-- he doesn't let it slip in Davenport, Iowa, or something." Presley, on the
other hand, was concerned only with the sound he would hear in the onstage
monitors.
("Anybody who works for me," Springsteen says, without a trace of a joke, "the
first thing you better know is I'm gonna drive you crazy. Because I don't
compromise in certain areas. So if you're gonna be in, you better be ready for
that.")
Which perhaps explains the consistently high quality of Springsteen's life
performances. I must have seen forty over the years, and no two are alike. Even
if the songs are the same, which they hardly ever are, Bruce brings something
different to every one. Tonight's is conversational -- the loosest I've ever
seen, and at the same time, frighteningly intense. He begins immediately after
"Badlands," the opening number, by talking about the walk on the beach last
night ("It's like a combat zone out there") and makes some self-deprecating
remarks about his press attention, which has mushroomed this week: Robert
Hilburn had given him a rave advance notice in the Sunday Los Angeles Times,
and Ed Kociela had more than matched it with a pair of pieces -- interview and
Berkeley concert review -- in Monday's Herald-Examiner. In a way, Springsteen
was taking Los Angeles by storm, as he had taken New York in August 1975 with
the release of Born to Run and ten shows at the Bottom Line. There are some who
must find such excessive praise threatening or suspicious -- though only a fool
would think that such enthusiasm could be manufactured -- but Bruce diffuses it
easily: "See all that fancy stuff in the papers about me? Big deal, huh? I
gotta tell you, I only levitate to the upper deck on Wednesdays and Fridays . .
.Wednesdays and Fridays, and I don't do no windows."
Perhaps the most nervy and nerve-racking antic Springsteen has retained in
making the transition to hockey arenas is his trademark leap into the audience
during the third song, "Spirit in the Night." He looks frail -- at an extremely
agile five-foot-nine, he is not -- and one is always worried that his
consummate trust in his fans is going to let him down. But night after night he
gets away with it. Somehow. Tonight, the security doesn't get the picture and
tries to drag the fans off Bruce as he ascends an aisle deep in the loges. "You
guys work here or something?" Springsteen demands. "Get outta here. These guys
are my friends." The crowd roars.
His parents have come down from their home near San Francisco for the show, and
the evening is sprinkled with allusions to them and his sixteen-year-old
sister, Pam. The stories he tells are always among his best moments, but what
gets me tonight are the asides and dedications: he tells about the billboard
("We made a few improvements,"), about asking Mary Turner for a date, and when
he does "For You," he dedicates the song to Greg Kihn, who recorded the song
for Berserkley Records a year ago. And because Gary Busey is here, he tells
about seeing The Buddy Holly Story. It's the perfect review.
"It's funny because I could never really picture Buddy Holly moving. To me, he
was always just that guy with the bow tie on the album cover. I liked the
picture because it made him a lot more real for me."
But the encores are the evening's highlights. First, "The Promise," a quiet
ballad that was one of the first things Springsteen wrote for the new album,
and which was finally dropped from it. In an earlier version, "The Promise" was
taken by many listeners to be a metaphor the lawsuit with former manager Mike
Appel that delayed production of the new LP for more than a year. But tonight,
with a new verse added in the studio, it's obviously about something more
universal: "Now my daddy taught me how to walk quiet/And how to make peace with
the past/And I learned real good to tighten up inside/And I don't say nothin'
unless I'm asked."
And then, to top it all, he does his two most famous songs, back to back: "Born
to Run" and "Because the Night," the latter in a version that shrivels the
Patti Smith hit. When the night finally ends, it is with "Quarter to Three,"
houselights up full and the crowd singing along as spontaneously as I've ever
heard 14,5000 people do anything.
Backstage I run into Jackson Browne. "Good show, huh?" I say. He looks at me
querulously, like I was just released from the nut house. "Uh unh," Jackson
says. "Great show."
At midnight, local FM stations broadcast an announcement that Springsteen will
play the Roxy, the 500-seat club and record-company hangout on Sunset Strip, on
Friday night, one show only. Lines begin forming almost immediately.
Thursday, July 6th
Walking through the lobby of the Marquis last night, just after two a.m., I ran
into Bruce, who asked if I wanted to walk over to Ben Frank's for something to
eat. On the way I mentioned that there must be a lot of people in line at the
Roxy just up the street. Bruce gave me a look. "I don't like people waiting up
all night for me," he said.
Bruce ate another prodigious meal: four eggs, toast, a grilled-cheese sandwich,
large glasses of orange juice and milk. And the talk ranged widely: surfing
(Bruce had lived with some of the Jersey breed for a while in the late Sixties,
and he's a little frustrated with trying to give a glimmer of its complexity to
a landlocked ho-dad like me), the new album and its live recording ("I don't
think I'll ever go back to the overdub method," he said mentioning that almost
all of the LP was done completely live in the studio, and that "Streets of
Fire" and "Something in the Night" were first takes). But mostly we talked or
rather, Bruce talked and I listened.
Springsteen can be spellbinding, partly because he is so completely ingenuous,
partly because of the intensity and sincerity with which he has thought out his
role as a rock star. He delivers these ideas with an air of conviction, but not
a proselytizing one; some of his ideas are radical enough for Patti Smith or
the punks, yet lack their sanctimonious rhetoric.
I asked him why the band plays so long - their shows are rarely less than three
hours - and he said: "It's hard to explain. 'Cause every time I read stuff that
I say, like in the papers, I always think I come off sounding like some kind of
crazed fanatic. When I read it, it sounds like that, but it's the way I am
about it. It's like you have to go the whole way because . . . that's what
keeps everything real. It all ties in with the records and the values, the
morality of the records. There's a certain morality of the show and it's very
strict." Such comments can seem not only fanatical, but also self-serving. The
great advantage of the sanctimony and rhetoric that infests the punks is that
such flaws humanize them. Lacking such egregious characteristics, Bruce
Springsteen seems too good to be true when reduced to cold type. Nice guys
finish last, we are told, and here's one at the top. So what's the catch? I
just don't know.
At the end of every show, before the first encore, Bruce stands tall at the
microphone and makes a little speech. "I want to thank all of you for
supporting the band for the past three years," he concludes and then plays
"Born to Run." I wondered why.
"That's what it's about," he said. "Everything counts. Every person, every
individual in the crowd counts -- to me. I see it both way. There is a crowd
reaction. But then I also think very, very personally, one to one with the
kids. 'Cause you put out the effort and then if it doesn't come through it's a
. . . it's a breakdown. What I always feel is that I don't like to let people
that have supported me down. I don't like to let myself down. Whatever the
situation, as impossible as it is, I like to try to . . .I don't wanna try to
get by."
And so it was no surprise that, waking up this morning, I found that all hell
had broken loose. Only 250 seats for the Roxy show were available for public
sale, which meant that a great many of those who had waited up weren't going to
get in. And Bruce was not just upset about this; he was angry. It was a
betrayal, however well intentioned, and the fact that another 120 tickets would
go to fans through radio-station giveaways did not mollify him. People had been
fruitlessly inconvenienced by him. It did not matter that at most similar small
club gigs, the proportion of public to industry is reversed. This was his show,
and it should have been done properly.
(end of part one
jimmyconway75
that positions the '78 motivators (lawsuit, dawning maturity, etc.) that made
Darkness well... DARKNESS, posting it here would be much appreciated!>>>
Bruce Springsteen Raises Cain
A week's worth of unparalleled rock & roll (CONTINUED)
Friday, July 7th
Whatever bad blood had erupted from the overnight Roxy fiasco is gone. In its
place, one begins to get a sense of Springsteen's impact on L.A. Polaroids snap
at the billboard modifications up the Strip, and the band seems prepared for a
big night. At six p.m. there's a media first: Springsteen is interviewed on
KABC, the first time he has ever been on TV in any way, shape or form. It's a
good interview -- "It's probably the only thing that I live for. When I was a
kid, I didn't know nothin' about nothin' until rock & roll got into my house.
To me it was the only thing that was ever true, it was the only thing that
never let me down. And no matter who was out there, ten people or 10,000
people, there's a lot to live up to . . .What happens is, there's a lotta
trappings, there'' a lotta things that are there to tempt you, sort of. It's
just meaningless. And I just try to . . .I play Buddy Holly every night before
I go on, that keeps me honest."
But even more striking are the filmed performances of "Prove It All Night" and
"Rosalita" that accompany the interview. Even on this small screen, Springsteen
is a visual natural, mugging like a seven-year-old and leaping like the rocker
of someone's dreams; I know why so many film directors, seeing him for the
first time, have virtually drooled in anticipation.
After the Forum, the Roxy seems cramped. The broadcast is set for nine, but
it's a quarter past by the time the band takes the stage. The place is packed
-- even the balcony box above Roy Bittan's piano looks like it is holding twice
the customers it was intended for. And while there are celebrities here -- Cher
and Kiss' Gene Simmons, Jackson Browne, Irving Azoff and Glenn Frey, Karla
Bonoff, Busey, Tom Waits -- it is mostly a crowd of kids and young adults.
The crowd rustles as Bruce steps to the mike, but he holds up his hand. "I want
to apologize to everybody," he says, "for what happened with the tickets to
this show. It was my fault, and I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to make this
no private party -- I don't play no parties anymore. Except my own." I think
that Mrs. Springsteen, sitting in the back, must be very proud to have such a
son. And he steps to the mike and sings: "Wel-a-well-a little things you say
and do . . ." It's "Rave On" and the joint explodes. Garry Tallent, who loves
this music as much as anyone I have ever met, is singing the choruses, his face
shining. "I've always wanted to sing Buddy Holly onstage," he tells me later in
his quiet way.
But "Rave On" is only the ignition. Having decided to play a special show,
Springsteen goes out of his way. He dances on the tabletops, and the crowd
leaps to grab him. He adds "Candy's Room," one of the Darkness songs he never
performs, and halfway through the first set, he introduces a "new song that I
wrote right after I finished Darkness. It's called 'Point Blank,' and it's
about being trapped." And he tells a story of a friend of his who has to work
two jobs, as does her husband, to make ends meet, and "they're" still trying to
take the couple's house away. And when he sings, it's very real, living up to
that title: "Point blank, right between the eyes/They got you, point
blank/Right between them pretty lies that they tell . . . . No one survives
untouched/No one survives untouched/No one survives."
Near the end of the first set, he tells this story: "Last summer, I went
driving out in the desert near Reno -- we just flew to Phoenix and rented a car
and drove around. And in the desert we cant upon a house that this old Indian
had built of stuff scavenged from the desert. And on his house there was a
sign: THIS IS THE LAND OF PEACE, LOVE, JUSTICE AND NO MERCY. And at the bottom
of the sign, there was an arrow pointing down this old dirt road. And it said:
THUNDER ROAD." This gets the biggest hand of the evening.
The second half is, if anything, harder to believe. It begins, after the usual
twenty-minute intermission, with Bruce stepping to the mike and saying: "All
right all of you bootleggers out there in radioland. Roll them tapes!" And he
comes on with a performance that deserves to be preserved: when a guitar has to
be sent backstage for repairs, he calls a brief conference, and the band
suddenly steps forward and sings, of all things, "Heartbreak Hotel," with Bruce
as the very incarnation of his hero. There's an encore performance of
"Independence Day," another of those songs that didn't make Darkness, this one
the most moving ballad version of "Adam Raised a Cain" story I have ever heard.
During "Quarter to Three," three hours into the set, Bruce climbs to the
balcony and sings a chorus there before he leaps ten feet down to the piano, by
some miracle uninjured. The houselights go up, and the kids are on their feet,
chanting -- no one is going home. And even with the announcement comes that the
band has left the building, no one moves. "Br-u-ce, Br-u-ce" the chant goes on
and on, and suddenly the curtain is raised, and there they are (Max Weinberg
fresh from the shower). They roll into "Twist and Shout" and finally, nearly
four hours after it all began, the show is over.
Los Angeles Times rock critic Robert Hilburn is at a loss for words. "How do I
come back and review this show," he says despairingly, "after I just said that
the Forum was one of the best events ever in Los Angeles? Who's gonna believe
me?" Maybe, I can only suggest, that is everybody else's problem.
Phoenix, Saturday, July 8th
My favorite comment on last night's show came from Max Weinberg on this
morning's flight. "You know, I was thinking in the middle of the show that when
I was twelve years old, this is exactly what I wanted to be doing."
Later, I ask Springsteen why he had apologized. "It just seemed like the only
thing to do," he says. "I couldn't imagine not. There was a little naivete in
thinking that the kids are gonna come and when somebody tells them that there's
no more tickets, they're gonna go home. They're not. All I know is, it
should've been done better."
Still, I suggest, he could have gotten away without an apology. "I couldn't
have gotten away with it," he says, throwing me a look. "That's all I try to do
-- live so I can sleep at night. That's my main concern."
It's going to be a task tonight. It was 109 degrees when we got off the plane
and into this oven, and a film crew has shown up to shoot tonight's performance
for a TV commercial. They'll be at the sound check, and they'll also have
cameras -- and additional lights -- at the show.
Springsteen seems more open and eager to promote Darkness than any of his other
albums. Despite the massive amounts of ink he has attracted, he has never been
a particularly accessible interview, and he has never, ever appeared on TV. I
wonder why the change.
"I always had a certain kinda thing about all those things - like the TV ad or
this ad or that ad. But I realized shortly after this album came out that
things had changed a lot since Born to Run. I just stopped taking it as
seriously, and I realized that I worked a year - a year of my life - on
somethin' and I wasn't aggressively tryin' to get it out there to people. I was
super aggressive in my approach toward the record and toward makin' it happen -
you know, nonrelenting. And then when it came out, I went, 'Oh, I don't wanna
push it.'
"It's just facing up to certain realities. It was ridiculous to cut off your
nose to spite your face. What it was, was I was so blown away by what happened
last time, I initially thought of doing no ads. Just put it out, literally just
put it out."
It is the first time I have ever heard Springsteen refer to a negative effect
of the past three years of litigation and layoff. It's strange he's not more
bitter, I suggest. "At the time that that went down," he explains," I wasn't
mentally prepared. I knew nothin' about it. It was all distressing to me. There
were some good times, but what it was, was . . .the loss of control. See, all
the characters [on the LPs] and everything is about the attempt to gain control
of your life. And here, all this stuff, whether it had a good effect or a bad
effect, I realized the one thing it did have was it had a bad effect on my
control of myself. Which is why I initially started playing, and why I play.
That's what upset me most about it. It was like somebody bein' in a car with
the gas pedal to the floor."
(I have only heard him explain his relationship with former manager Mike Appel
better on one occasion: "In a way, Mike was as naïve as me," he said then.
"'You be the Colonel, and I'll be Elvis.' Except he wasn't the Colonel, and I
wasn't Elvis.")
There are of course other reasons for the TV commercial: while Springsteen is
enormously popular in certain areas, in others he is all but unknown. This is
particularly true of the South. And it is especially difficult for people who
live in the Northeast and Southwest, where Springsteen already is a star, to
grasp his commercial difficulties elsewhere. Anyone who sells out both the Los
Angeles Forum and Madison Square Garden (three nights at the latter) ought to
be a national star, but for a variety of reasons, Springsteen is still not
there yet. Most of this has to do with his lack of acceptance on AM radio - on
that side of the dial, he is a virtually invisible quantity: "Born to Run" made
it to Number Seventeen, and "Prove It All Night" will be fortunate to be that
high, principally because both emphasize electric guitars, which makes them
hard rock, not exactly what AM program directors are currently looking for.
In Phoenix, however, all of this can be forgotten. Phoenix was the first town
outside of the New York-New Jersey-Philadelphia-Boston region where Springsteen
became popular. In the words of Danny Federici, "This is the first place I ever
felt like a star." It's hard to believe, driving past these deserted desert
streets at 7:30 on a Saturday evening, that the 10,000-seat Veterans Memorial
Coliseum is sold out. But when the show is over, I know what Robert Hilburn
felt.
It's not that it's just another fantastic show. This is another goddamn event,
and it goes farther than the Roxy, with all of that's show's intimacy,
innocence and vulnerability, but with an added factor of pandemonium. It's the
sweetest-tempered crowd I've ever seen, and at the same time, the most
maniacal. Bruce dedicates the show to the town in memory of the time "when this
was about the only place I could get a job," and the crowd gives it back.
During "Prove It All Night," three extremely young girls in the front row hold
up a hand-lettered sign written on a bedsheet. Quoting the song, it says, JUST
ONE KISS WILL GET THESE THINGS FOR YOU. And he gets them, during "Rosalita,"
one after another, as they race up to kiss him, lightly, on the cheek. A fourth
darts up, and just. . .reaches out and touches his hand. And finally, three
more race up and bowl him over. ("This little girl, couldn't have been more
than fifteen, and she had braces on her teeth," Springsteen exclaims later.
"And she had her tongue so far down my throat I nearly choked.")
I've never seen anything like this in such a big hall. Before the encores --
which include "Raise Your Hand" and the inevitable "Quarter to Three" -- are
over, not seven, but seventeen girls have climbed up to hiss him, and there are
couples dancing, actually jitterbugging, on the front of the stage. The
cameramen are torn between filming Bruce, who is pouring it all out, and simply
shooting the crowd, which is pushing him farther and farther.
It's a perfect climax to a week of rock & roll unparalleled in my experience.
All I know is, it lives up to the grand story Bruce told in the midst of
"Growin' Up." The story has become a virtual set-piece by now, but that night
he added a special twist. You should get to hear it too. Maybe it fills in some
of the cracks, maybe it explains just why Bruce Springsteen pushes people to
the edge of frenzy.
It began with a description of his family, house and home, and his perennial
battles with his father. "Finally," he says, "my father said to me, 'Bruce,
it's time to get serious with your life. This guitar thing is okay as a hobby,
but you need something to fall back on. You should be a lawyer' -- which I
coulda used later on in my career. He says, 'Lawyers, they run the world.' But
I didn't think they did -- and I still don't.
"My mother, she's more sensitive. She thinks I should be an author and write
books. But I wanted to play guitar. So my mother, she's very Italian, she says,
'This is a big thing, you should go see the priest.' So I went to the rectory
and knocked on the door. 'Hi, Father Ray, I'm Mr. Springsteen's son. I got this
problem. My father thinks I should be a lawyer, and my mother, she wants me to
be an author. But I got this guitar.'
"Father Ray says, 'This is too big a deal for me. You gotta talk to God,' who I
didn't know too well at the time. 'Tell him about the lawyer and the author,'
he says, 'but don't say nothin' about that guitar.'
"Well, I didn't know how to find God, so I went to Clarence's house. He says,
'No Sweat. He's just outside of town.' So we drive outside of town, way out on
this little dark road.
"I said, 'Clarence, are you sure you know where we're goin'?' He said, 'Sure, I
just took a guy out there the other day.' So we come to this little house out
in the woods. There's music blasting out and a little hole in the door. I say,
'Clarence sent me,' and they let me in. And there's God behind the drums. On
the bass drum, it says: G-O-D. So I said, 'God, I got this problem. My father
wants me to be a lawyer and my mother wants me to be an author. But they just
don't understand -- I got this guitar.'
"God says, 'What they don't understand is that there was supposed to be an
Eleventh Commandment. Actually, it's Moses' fault. He was so scared after ten,
he said this is enough, and went back down the mountain. You shoulda see it --
great show, the burning bush, thunder, lightning. You see, what those guys
didn't understand was that there was an Eleventh Commandment. And all it said
was: LET IT ROCK!'"
DAVE MARSH
(RS 331 - August 24, 1978)
jimmyconway75
'78 motivators (lawsuit, dawning maturity, etc.) that made Darkness
Paul Nelson/Rolling Stone piece...
http://www.rollingstone.com/news/newsarticle.asp?nid=16342&cf=68
Springsteen Fever
Rocker comes out of the "Darkness"
At the Music Hall in Boston in late May, Bruce Springsteen begins a song in
almost total darkness, a single blue spotlight faintly limning the singer
during the quiet opening minutes of "Thunder Road." It's a magic moment,
avoiding pretentiousness only because it works. Springsteen has carefully
cultivated the Method actor's idiosyncratic timing, added a professional street
character's sense of the dramatic, a dancer's knack for picaresque tableaux,
and wrapped the whole package in explosive vulnerability and the practiced pose
of a tender, punky hood. Thus the upcoming, split-second move from singular
near-silence into vehement, resounding rock & roll as the band joins in -- a
strategy picked up from R&B groups and one which Springsteen will repeat all
night -- is a surprise only to the uninitiated, a delicious treat to the
aficionado. The sound of the bass drum is so loud that the girl on my left
literally clutches her heart.
Tonight has an air of expectancy -- one may say even privilege. There's an
intensity present, a premonition that this is where the best music in America
might well be happening in the next few hours, and the hope that it may be
true. It is. Between songs, Springsteen practically becomes a member of the
audience. He prowls the edge of the stage, shaking hands and talking to those
ecstatic fans who, by standing on their seats, can lean forward and touch him.
He's an easy mark. After "Born to Run," when the crowd offers him a tremendous
ovation, he subverts the applause by holding up his guitar as if it were some
communal instrument of magic, something which he alone does not own. All of a
sudden, I realize that we are making this glorious not for the pride of one man
but for the power of rock & roll.
Backstage, Bruce Springsteen is so shy and unassuming you could mistake him for
his own roadie. Since he's shaved his beard, few people seem to recognize him
immediately, a fact that producer Jon Landau verifies by saying that, during
the making of Darkness on the Edge of Town, Springsteen could walk the streets
of New York City totally unnoticed. Now, sipping a Pepsi and making everyone
feel at home, he appears both eager to get people's reactions to the concert
and LP and anxious to avoid drawn-out analytical questions about What It All
Means. The notoriety of those Time and Newsweek cover stories about Born to Run
still seems to haunt him somewhat, but like a tired, albeit polite, host who
might secretly wish he could postpone all discussion until things cool out a
bit, he's a model of professional and personal courtesy.
Springsteen and I first met in 1973, right before his first record, Greetings
from Asbury Park, N.J., came out. Tonight, I'm aware that this friendship gives
me an edge -- that instead of giving me a formal interview, he'd probably
rather just talk -- and I'm more than a little uneasy about it. When the tape
recorder is turned on, both of us are careful not to cross a certain line. I'm
glad to see him, but wish the circumstances were different. He seems to feel
the same way.
Springsteen laughs when I ask him if it's true that he once said people riding
in cars were his genre, and that he'd like to begin every song with the same
line or image. And often seems to.
"Oh, yeah," he says. "During the record, I think Jon [Landau] said 'What's all
this about these cars?' I think we were doing 'Prove It All Night,' and it had
a different first verse. But it [the car imagery] is just a general thing that
forms the action in a particular way. The action is not the imagery, you now.
The heart of the action is beneath all that stuff. There's a separate thing
happening all the time. I sort of always saw it as the way certain people make
certain kinds of movies."
Like detective movies and westerns?
"That's always how I saw the songs. They always had a sort of drive-in quality
to them." Springsteen is animated now, smiling, punctuating his sentences with
his hands. "Like I wasn't really going for -- in a way, I was, aiming for the
big Hollywood opening, but they really had more of a drive-in quality. Which is
what I wanted because that's where I wanted to work. Plus I'd gotten into
seeing movies. I saw The Grapes of Wrath on TV, which I used to turn off."
I shake my head in mock sorrow and horror. Springsteen breaks up.
"That's a terrible thing to say, but I always remember turning it off and
turning on something that was in color. Then I realized it was a stupid thing
to do because one night Jon and I watched it, and it opened up a whole
particular world to me. It was very interesting, just a way to watch movies --
just a way to observe things, period. Over the past year or two, I got into all
the John Ford westerns and seeing just how he made his particular movies."
Sometimes Ford and other auteur Directors remade the same movie with a slightly
different emphasis, I suggest.
"Yeah, and that had a big influence on the way I approached my own work. I
loved all those movies, you know. I just felt real close to that stuff."
So close, in fact, that he and Landau, while trying to come up with a name for
the new album, jokingly flipped through the film-titles index of Andrew Sarris'
classic text, The American Cinema: Directors and Directions 1929-1968.
Springsteen's choice was American Madness: Landau's, History Is Made at Night.
Bruce Springsteen credits Jon Landau as being "a big help to me. He helped me
see things -- to see into things -- and somehow it would come out in the songs.
It's hard to explain. There's a certain little consciousness barrier that gets
broken down. What happens in a funny sense is if you grow up in a particular
house where the concept of art is twenty minutes in school every day that you
hate, and there's no books, no music, there's nothing -- well, until you bump
into someone who grew up in a house that had a lot of books, and different
stuff, it's [difficult]. That's a problem for a lot of people -- a lot of my
friends. You just don't bump into [anyone who's] going to make you more able to
use whatever brains you've got.
"That's why the importance of rock & roll was just incredible. It reached down
into all those homes where there was no music or books or any kind of creative
sense, and it infiltrated the whole thing. That's what happened in my house,
you know."
A mutual friends told me that Springsteen had said that the songs on Darkness
on the Edge of Town are about "people who are going from nowhere to nowhere." I
wonder if this is correct.
"Yeah, that's what I always thought. That's why a lot of the action always
takes place around cars. It's like everybody's always in transit. There's no
settling down, no fixed action. You pick up the action, and then at some point
-- psst! -- the camera pans away, and whatever happened, that's what happened.
The songs I write, they don't have particular beginnings and they don't have
endings. The camera focuses in and then out."
Springsteen says that he recorded thirty songs for the new LP and then made his
final selection on the basis of "those I felt were the most important for me to
get out. I wanted to put out stuff that I felt had the most substance and yet
was still an album."
One of his best new songs is "The Promise," which remains unreleased. I ask
why.
"Because too many people were interpreting it to be about the lawsuit.
[Springsteen and former manager/producer Mike Appel sued each other, but
settled out of court last summer.] I wrote it before there was a lawsuit...I
don't write songs about lawsuits."
We talk for a while about the inordinate amount of time it seems to take
Springsteen to make a record. He's developed a keen sense of humor about this.
"The main thing is you owe your best. That's how I feel toward myself. I just
couldn't understand why people would rush to get out an album by a particular
date and then regret it afterward. I mean, a date is just a date, except to the
machine kind of thing.
"I was at the Spectrum [in Philadelphia] the other night, and some kids ran
backstage and said, 'Hey, that one was good, it was worth the wait,' and that
makes it for me, you know. I've never had a kid come up to me and say, 'Hey,
what were you doing all that time?' or, 'What took you so long? I don't get
it.' That's how it rings true for me. That's the big important connection --
you see what matters to the kids. They want to have the stuff, but if it's not
the best you can do, it's not worth doing. Not for me, anyway."
What about "Factory"?
"I wrote that song in about half an hour. See, that's the funny thing -- the
album took a long time, but most of the songs were written real fast. It was
just figuring out what to do with them. 'Factory' -- that's like everybody's
old man or something."
I mention that there are a couple of songs about fathers on Darkness on the
Edge of Town. Springsteen looks thoughtful.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, there are. I wrote three songs that had to do with
that, and one didn't get on. And that might have been the best one, but it just
didn't fit. It's a song called 'Independence Day.' We've never played it, but
it was a ballad, and we had too many slow songs. So..."
He leans forward. "But 'The Promise' and 'Independence Day.' Those were two
that I got that'll definitely be on the next record. Which should be about
another three years." We both laugh.
Many of the characters in the songs on Bruce Springsteen's new album appear to
be trapped in a state of desperation so intense that they must either break
through into something better (or at least into something ambiguous) or break
down into madness, murder and worse. Darkness on the Edge of Town seems to be
about the high cost of romantic obsession for adults, not teenagers ("Mister, I
ain't a boy, no, I'm a man" instead of the wonderful but more sentimental
"'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run"), and while the LP offers
hope, it's also Springsteen's blackest -- though probably best -- work.
Springsteen himself says: "My songs are all action songs. They're action, you
know. All my songs are about people at that moment when they've got to do
something, just do something, do anything. There's no halfway in most of the
songs because I don't approach what I do in that way. There's just no room to
compromise. I think, for most musicians, it has to be like life or death or
else it's not worth it. That's why every night we play a real long time, and we
play real hard. I want to be able to go home and say I went all the way tonight
-- and then I went a little further.
"My whole life, I was always around a lot of people whose lives consisted of
just this compromising -- they knew no other way. That's where rock & roll is
important, because it said that there could be another way, you know. That's
why I write the kind of songs I do, why they have a particular kind of
immediacy. As you go along, I think you have to deal more directly with
whatever's confronting you because that's the only way to get across.
"It's real hard to talk about the record because what I have invested in it --
I'm not talking about money -- what I have invested is so much..." It strikes
me that Darkness on the Edge of Town is less urban than many of his albums,
especially The Wild, the Innocent & the E Street Shuffle. Springsteen agrees.
"The stuff I always felt closest to was the small-town kind of stuff, because
that's the way I grew up. And I thought about the things I liked best about the
last record, what was the truest. Plus that's where I live -- I don't live in
New York. So when I wrote 'Racing in the Street,' that's like home. And
'Darkness on the Edge of Town.' 'The Promise' was, too. That's home stuff, you
know.
"And the tone of the songs. The saxophone's a very urban instrument, and when
Clarence plays it, it's got that warm, human kind of thing. On some of the
songs, it collided with the texture or just the particular character of what
was happening in a funny way. You can make it work -- it worked on 'Born To
Run' and it works on 'Prove It All Night' -- but it's tricky. With the
saxophone, there no distance -- that thing, it's right up to your face . But
the guitar has always been a little cooler instrument, and the tone of the
songs was a little cooler, so I played more guitar on this record than I did
last time. Whatever's functional, you know."
Backstage, Springsteen looks particularly boyish. Tired but pleased. He hooks a
foot under the bottom runt of his chair and tilts it back and forth. Onstage,
he's like an exuberant but dreamy montage of every rock & roll and film star
whose picture ever graced your wall: Montgomery Cliff, James Dean, Elvis
Presley, Al Pacino, Robert DeNiro, et al. The collective resemblance in
uncanny. Now that he's conquered rock & roll, can the movies be far behind?
(Those close to him say he's thinking about it.) Bob Dylan figuratively
replaced James Dean, and it's a better-than-even bet that Bruce Springsteen
could succeed both of them.
The interview is over, but I can't resist telling Springsteen that he seems to
have as much loyalty to his fans as they do to him.
"You've got to have that," he says. "These people work all week and a lot of
times wait in line for ten hours or some incredible amount of time. I mean, I
go to shows -- it's hard to go to a show. You can get bonked by somebody
sitting next to you, or you don't know what's happening -- it's totally
disorienting. It's like, you're stepping out there a little bit, you know.
"The kid, he's doing his bit. He's forking over his bucks, he's coming down.
You've got to make sure he can come down, sit in his seat and not get blown up.
That's your responsibility to the crowd, and that's the most important thing.
That's much more important than anything.
"You can never take it for granted. I feel that very strongly. For the first
four years, I had an attitude -- I went into every place expecting it to be
empty. So whoever was there was a big plus I was glad they were there, and we
played our best to whoever was there, always. You don't just lay back in this
band, you know. That just doesn't happen. That's why people come down to see us
-- because something more is going to happen. Something -- just somehow,
someway.
"You've got to look into some of these people's faces. It's very important to
have that contact because you get such a feeling. Sometimes after the show the
kids'll wait out back, and that's the best part. It's like Christmas or
something. They don't take it lightly, so you have no right to, either. It's
something that I've never done and I never will do. I'll quit before I do that.
"The whole idea is to deliver what money can't buy. That's the idea of going
out there. You don't go out there to deliver seven dollars and fifty cents
worth of music. My whole thing is to go out there and deliver what they could
not possibly buy. And if you do that, you've done whatever you could do."
PAUL NELSON
(RS 269 - July 13, 1978)
choice
Zeke wrote:
>
> "choice" <cho...@rcn.com> wrote:
> > Hey you, you change your spots more than anyone I know! (your id in
> > here, I mean).
>
> But at least I let ya know when I do.
Well, I think Zeke suits you... more than curmudgeon.
>
> Hang around here long enough and you'll see trolls changing screen names
> faster than EV changes hairstyles. All the time pretending the new persona
> is who they really are.
Hmmm, how do we know "choice" isn't you?
>
> > That live boot you gave me is from '78, right?
>
> Yea and it's a good one (Piece de Resistance for anyone reading). I only
> wish it had better sound. It's decent sound considering the era and fact
> that it's a boot, but those PJ boots have spoiled everyone.
Yeah, I have a few pre-2000 boots, but rarely listen to them. They're
quite a gift, those boots. But the show is great!
>
> > the MSG show on this new DVD at least puts PJ in competition!
>
> Definetly. Especially considering they're a band, whereas Bruce has always
> been the focal point. 1978 was special because certain things (some
> positive, many negative) had aligned perfectly. Too much to type, if anyone
> knows of an old newspaper or magazine article that positions the '78
> motivators (lawsuit, dawning maturity, etc.) that made Darkness well...
> DARKNESS, posting it here would be much appreciated!
>
> disi...@NOSPAMcomcast.net
> Grapefruit, it's a fruit! It's an ashtray!
--
Zeke
> I've posted part of the Marsh/Rolling Stone piece from '78 below and will
post
> second part in subsequent post. Doesn't exactly answer your questions
above,
> but touches a bit on the history. Definitive account seems to be his
book.
Thx Bobby. Them old stories are always fun to read.
What I'd really love to find (and I don't know if it's out there or not?)
are articles that shed light on the "motivators" Bruce was feeling at the
time of Darkness. I think those things drove him to the maniacal levels he
was at on that tour.
Us Brucers often say "with Darkness Bruce was exorcizing demons" and we know
exactly what is meant by that statement. We know what he went through in
'76 & '77. But if you're not familiar with the lawsuit, etc., if you're a
person who likes Bruce but doesn't know much about him, there's gonna be
stuff you miss. Like with Pearl Jam: Laurie explained some songs to me the
other day, now I see what they're really about. It definitely add to my
understanding and enjoyment of the music.
At ant rate, with Darkness, I'm not sure if someone who is new to the record
can comprehend the events (and thus the pain and, ultimately, growth) this
young man went thru? Especially 25 years later. How does Darkness sound to
a fresh ear? Does it have (adult) impact? Does the pain, turmoil &
desperation coming from this record sound artistic, or does it just sound
like a lot of pain, turmoil and desperation?
Bruce says he "don't write no songs about lawsuits," but knowing about the
lawsuit made me understand the record much better when it came out. I
remember the long wait, then (finally) it was here. I remember WXRT in Chgo
playing all of Side 1, hearing the opening "Badlands" and thinking "oh shit,
this guy's been through the meat grinder." Songs like Streets of Fire &
Something In The Night are far more understandable if you know the story.
"I don't write no songs about no law suits" may be what Bruce really
believed, or wanted to believe? But his protest betrays him. The entire
album is about the lawsuit. In some fashion. Every long-term fan knew he
was exorcising demons from the very first song. We had NO IDEA what to
expect on the tour. Wow! This guy was clearly insane!
For me, knowing what happened leading up to the record doesn't make the
record any less compelling. It's still a universal plea that appeals to
anyone who has every faced insurmountable odds, been cheated, wrongly
blamed, etc.
I yanked the following paragraph, it has feel of what I'm looking for:
"What it is, it's the characters' commitment. In the face of all the
betrayals, in the face of all the imperfections that surround you in
whatever kind of life you lead, it's the characters' refusal to let go of
their own humanity, to let go of their own belief in the other side. It's a
certain loss of innocence -- more so than in the other albums."
I'll do some digging this weekend to see if what I'm looking for exists. If
anyone knows, their input would be appreciated.
Burt Busk
around for me since I didn't get into Bruce music til about 6-8 months later
(unfortunately).
jimmyconway75 <jimmyc...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:20031113014809...@mb-m18.aol.com...