We May Hope Obama and Jay-Z Listen to the Boss

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Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band
Concert Review
November 28th, 2012, Portland, OR.
By Leif Jackson Bullock

 From the beginning of the show, Springsteen oozes with sweat. He probably began perspiring before the concert began. (see “Bruce Springsteen spotted working out in Pearl working out in Pearl,” http://www.kgw.com/news/local/Bruce-Springsteen-gets-workout-in-Portland-181222931.html)
 Soaking in his own juices, he tells us he’s old. After “No Surrender” followed a heroic opener, “Land of Hope and Dreams,” he tells us he’s doing music because “I want to keep my job…I like my job.” Appreciation for his fortune and fame. Empathy for others’ emotions. Embrace of hard work, struggle, dealing with loss. In voicing these fail-safe Bruce themes, the performer quashes any grungy antipathy toward cocky rock stars and ticket prices that may lurk within the Garden. Tried-and-true gestures of humility draw upon our belief, susceptibility, and vulnerability. In other words, “We take Care of Our Own.”
 Tepid, distracted crowds are reserved for performers who don’t devote spoken word tributes and moments of silence to lost loved ones, who don’t invite children on stage to sing and dance, who don’t take requests, who don’t forego any breaks in their shows lasting longer than 15 seconds. Springsteen’s Rose Garden crowd roars louder than any of the many euphoric Blazers moments I’ve witnessed. “Bruuuce” calls are as if every fan decides to somehow approvingly boo an official or player as loud as they can. While verbally calling attention to pain and death, Bruce’s body spends the length of an American pro football game channeling god swagger. Feet-apart power stances and open-chest gesticulations; he imitates the handful of pop megastars and athletes for whom summoning screaming arenas is a daily thing.
 For Bruce, it is a humble choice to devote his audience’s time and vibes toward honoring friends, family who have passed away. His stage presence certainly suggests he can just as capably rouse his subjects into calling for blood-and-flesh resurrection of the dead. Bruce sees the non-zombie population needs a good rousing. “After we’re done here tonight, your back will hurt, feet will feel sore, and your sexual organs WILL BE STIMULATED.” And lest the burly, arm-around-wife, gay marriage opponent type of men in attendance refuse to stand on account of a fear that Bruce making them excited will transform them into tight-jean ogling homo-groupies, a dozen women storm the stage dancing in “Lesbians Heart Bruce” t-shirts. As if to say, “hey, if women who are only attracted women dig Bruce, men who are only attracted women can surely dig Bruce.”
 Springsteen brings expert charisma, savvy stage symbolism and sustained desire to evoke nostalgia and awe through singing and shouting words to a somewhat introverted town. But his presence alone does not hold the crowd for three plus hours. People would be ditching a solo Bruce 70 minutes in, thinking, “I got the message…I’m gone. I like ___ music more anyway.” Without a massively appealing sound that modern electricity can guide into every visible and invisible hearing orifice the brain and soul allow, Springsteen shrinks in eyes of many who see him for his caricature. His subject-position as elderly, white, classic rock male with long, pretentious songs about hard, blue-collar work he’s never actually done invite parody and hater-dom.
But his band provides key ingredients for transcendence in a town of losers. As “Land of Hope and Dreams” seemed to wind down, a backup singer approached Bruce and helped him belt the first lines of a Curtis Mayfield/Bob Marley-pitched “People get ready, there’s a train a comin / ya don’t need no baggage / ya just get on board.” Throughout the night, other such homage to different traditions and genres permeate.
When Springsteen is not killing the SM-58-sounding mic with a delivery that matches or exceeds his emotional clarity on record, he turns into a bodylanguage/spokenword bit player, while some or all of the 19 band performers creep to the center of the stage with their playing stuck on party groove symphony mode. An equal or greater number of sound-sculptors operate off-stage in a technology pod encircled with at least a dozen computer monitors. Additionally, mattress-sized soundboards on either side of stage with p. a. controls to further vet outgoing, probiotic rock-and-roll microbes. I cannot name a song that fell flat, or a particular number that soared above the rest. E street has mastered them all equally. The band does so by sauntering back and forth through several different styles—often within the same setlist “song.” I witness orchestral, choral mastery of a “my city of ruins/spirit in the night” extended re-write (A 2002 hit paired with a 1973 time stopper). This stretch of sound shifts from solo-acoustic guitar playing and howling, to full-fledged symphonic band bombast, back to 3-4 instruments rocking garage-hard, into funky dance mode, outer space reverb via female soprano holding a high note, and back to another, album-sounding verse, all without an audible or visible break in the tune.
 What particularly impresses me—as someone who loves listening to older Bruce albums like Born to Run, The River, Nebraska, Born in the USA, Tunnel of Love, and who tends to cue up Bruce albums such as Ghost of Tom Joad and Devils and Dust that lack the E street band—is how both the band and audience find something special in singing the songs written in the past decade. It’s not just flashback nostalgia with Bruce on stage. Relevant, youthful, political vibes are getting unearthed and negotiated. If one is looking to study pop music’s imprint on unfolding culture, a topical approach will lead them to a Bruce show just as justifiably as it would to Lady Gaga, Drake, Kanye, et al.
 My taste in Springsteen’s catalogue belongs to a minority, compared with that of audience on hand and the live performers on stage. When songs from “The Rising” and “Wrecking Ball” begin, the crowd approves as vocally as they do for the “Thunder Road/Born to Run” encore. It’s easy to see the faces of lead singer and band convulse with emotion as they feel their way through the newer stuff. Goosebumps echo across aisles like an entranced preacher who senses a prayer is touching the congregation.
 I enjoy discovering that 2002’s “The Rising” album is on par with any other Bruce record. Nothing quite like finding awesome and new in what you think is just awesome and old. Hearing “Rising” songs live, it’s really obvious they make a lasting impact on listeners, just as Springsteen albums have in decades past. The lyrics help simplify substance: what 21st century life feels like at home, when all that is home also a mere outgrowth of global connections and fissures. Such a sweeping scope of thought parleyed into music is a tough assignment, a task many performers shelve as they work to congeal a local or commercial niche, often with beautiful results. But Big Picture Rock gets an arena-sized swath of humanity to demonstrate, prove to me that my preferences and inclinations are at the mercy of everyone else’s.
A concert like Springsteen’s gives assurance that the standing masses can couple intellect with euphoria.


Setlist 1. Land of Hope & Dreams
2. No Surrender
3. Hungry Hear
 4. We Take Care Of Our Own
5. Wrecking Ball
6. Death To My Hometown
7. My City Of Ruins
8. Spirit In The Night
9. Loose Ends (sign request: Spinner style, landed on “Steve’s Choice”)
10. Growin’ Up (sign request)
11. Jack Of All Trades
12. Seeds
13. Johnny 99
14. Darlington County
15. Shackled & Drawn
16. Waitin’ On A Sunny Day
17. Drive All Night
18. The Rising
19. Badlands
20. Thunder Road
Encore: 21. If I Should Fall Behind 22. Born To Run 23. Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) 24. Dancing In The Dark 25. Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town 26. Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out