Springsteen on Broadway

Springsteen fans claim that he can sing in front of a stadium full of people and make everyone feel like he's singing directly and only to them.  If that's not hyperbole, then how up front and personal is his Broadway show?  It's a two plus hour recitation of stories from the Boss' past interspersed with many of his most famous songs, in front of a miniscule (by his standards) crowd of less than one thousand people?

There may never be another musician like him, one who can come off as hypermasculine and so much larger than life, but also personable, sensitive, and not the least bit intimidating.  A show like this wouldn't work in a much larger venue.  This isn't Springsteen Unplugged, it's closer to a literary recitation by a trained actor, and in many ways that's exactly what this is -- stories culled from his autobiography delivered by a performer who's spent more time on a stage over the past fifty years than just about any stage actors.  He's been rehearsing for the part for his entire career!  It seems corny, but how else can you describe it?  Bruce nails every nuance, every furrow of his brow, every smile, every pause, knows when to be funny, when to be serious, when to milk a line, when to swear, when to wander off mike, when to raise his voice and when to lower it to a whisper, every last line is delivered for maximum power, maximum dramatic effect. 

The first ninety minutes are a one man show, a retelling of stories from his youth that open a window into the person he became.  Very much "A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man", in fact.  Even more so, there's a lot in common between the content here and Brett Anderson's excellent memoir, "Coal Black Mornings", that I recently wrote about.   Both men even had similar types of parents -- hard working but brooding and introverted fathers, endlessly energetic, outgoing, and extroverted mothers.  The fathers were stuck in difficult jobs but it was the mothers who dreamed of escape -- Springsteen's mother through her love of dancing (still not faded even years into the throes of Alzheimer's) and Anderson's mother through her eventual divorce from his father and relocation to a quieter life in the country. 

Anderson admits that he subconsciously wrote songs about his relationship with father and could only admit that to himself years later.  "I Don't Know How To Reach You", from the "Night Thoughts" album in 2016 was a conscious attempt to evaluate their relationship, years after his father's death.  Springsteen tells a story about his father being a ghost in his life for such a long time, even while he was alive.  But one day his father drove hundreds of miles to see him, unannounced, just to warn Bruce to not make the same mistakes raising his (Bruce's) kids that he (his father) did.  Bruce's father was trying to make amends, but was also trying to define himself a legacy that would succeed him long after he was gone.  Bruce calls it the greatest moment he ever had with his father, and it's the only moment in this show where he breaks down, wiping away tears before starting the next song. 

Those first ninety minutes cover only eight songs.  By the end of "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out", with it's extended middle section dedicated to (and eulogizing) the late Clarence Clemons, a shift in tone is appropriate and welcomed.  The story thus far has been about a constant struggle, but once Clemons joins the band, all the pieces are in place.  At that point, it becomes a story about realizing his dreams, step by step, and that's not what this show focuses on.  The last hour is more of a "A Special Evening with Bruce" club-style performance, more song heavy rather than story heavy, complete with a special guest (his wife Patty), and blazing performances of "The Rising" and "Dancing in the Dark" among others.     

Ric Ocasek's work with Suicide

I found out about Ric Ocasek's passing via a tweet from Weezer's Twitter account.  I'd forgotten that Ocasek was a producer of some note, known for working with No Doubt, Weezer, Suicide, and many others.  At that point I realized that I'd bought too far into the Suicide myth, lionizing their punk era debut album and neglecting everything they recorded afterward (everything they recorded as Suicide that is, I have a few albums that Rev and Vega worked on as solo artists). 

Suicide had a career similar to that of Jesus and Mary Chain.  The first album is considered the legendary, groundbreaking, extreme work of art.  The later albums saw them mellowing out and settling into a comfortable career as commercial artists.  Again, the myth is a difficult thing to overcome.  I never thought that "Psychocandy" was the best JAMC album.  The concept is the key, and everything surrounding it (the Velvets adoration, love of noise, the fifteen minute gigs) makes for a great story.  It's just that the follow-up albums are far more listenable.   "Darklands" was the favourite of the goths, an intense (but rarely "dark") proto-emo classic.  "Automatic" is simply a great rock and roll album, and probably their most consistent.  On the other hand, I never feel the urge to listen to "Psychocandy".  If I want to hear the early stuff, I go for the singles or the Peel Sessions from that era.

Similar things could be said about Suicide.  The first album is brilliant, but perhaps too over the top, too punishing a listen for one sitting, and too fixated on shock value.  The second album gives off a true real rock and roll vibe even though its entirely electronic and most definitely lo-fi.  The beats are softer, the vocals are smoothed out, more lyrical, and less shouty.  Ocasek deserves his due credit.  I can even imagine these songs as Cars demo recordings, with the electronic bass taking the place of a rhythm guitarist.  Suicide were transformed from provocateurs to a fascinating pop/techno hybrid.  In the pseudo keyboard solos on "Diamonds, Furcoat, Champagne", I hear a lot of Kraftwerk's "Computer World", even though the latter wasn't released until the next year.  I hear the combination of inner city grit and brash electronic pop with which Soft Cell would find great success (but once again, not for another year following this). 

"A Way of Life" is a highly underrated record that managed to keep up with then-contemporary trends while remaining true to their minimal, lo-fi roots.  When you hear the opener, "Wild In Blue", it's easy to understand why Wax Trax released this album.  It's jittery, proto-industrial beats and cavernous echoes fit seamlessly with the material released by Wax Trax at the time.  The next track, "Surrender", is a 60's doo-wop number that Phil Spector would have been proud to produce.   Somehow, Ocasek holds these different styles together, and he didn't stop there.  The slashing guitars and propulsive beats on "Rain of Ruin" predates Ministry and KMFDM's signature styles from the 90's.  "Dominic Christ" could have been a synth-drenched, new wave-y hit for the Cars, very much in the style of "You Might Think".    "Heat Beat" is wonderfully queasy, reminiscent of mid-90's hard house in its insistent rhythm and bludgeoning intensity.  It's the last thing you'd expect from a (nominally) rock producer. 

Ocasek also produced their "Dream Baby Dream" single, and this is one case where I prefer the cover versions to the original -- both Neneh Cherry and Bruce Springsteen have brilliant takes on it, done in totally different styles.