Have You Seen Junior's Grades?

Might as well jump...

Here's a real life email that I sent to my son's 4th grade teacher after she reported to my wife and I that he was acting tired and "out of it" in class and neglecting his homework duties.

We spoil our kids to no end in the Totale household, and this is undoubtedly part of the problem. They control our televisions and claim to have no homework while my wife and I disengage in our respective Kindles, laptops, and smart phones on the couch.

It's the American Dream, and we can only be interrupted when someone reaches us through one of those aforementioned devices.

So here was my response to my son's teacher, who we'll change the name of, because it's the internet and there's creepy people afoot.

Mrs Kotter:

My wife forwarded me your email and we have had conversations with E regarding his recent behavior and inconsistencies with his assignment book. At home, he has demonstrated ambivalence towards his school work and appears tired and a bit impatient with others. We did discover an incident of minor bullying that took place at Kids Corporate Conglomerate Inc. after school last week, but that issue has apparently resolved on its own and was not that significant. 

E denied that this matter had anything to do with his recent behavior and seemed surprised that any changes were noticed in him at all. Nonetheless, he committed to focusing more on addressing his “job,” which is to complete all school-related duties immediately when coming home for the day in order to enjoy the many privileges that he is allowed (television, gaming, internet, etc). 

He also understands that if he does not meet the expectations that you have for him, then some of these privileges may be lost. Of course, we will need your feedback if you continue to witness a problem with submitting his assignments on time as we will do our part in making sure it is a higher priority in our nightly schedule.

Finally, one private matter concerning his tiredness. His younger sister often requested to sleep with him on nights where she had trouble getting to sleep. These requests soon became the norm, to the point where we began to insist that they sleep in their own rooms after his sister came down with a cold. Ironically, it is now E who seems to be suffering from her absence as he has suggested that it is harder to get to sleep without her in the same bed. 

To help, I put up my huge poster of Bruce Springsteen’s Born In The USA cover on his bedroom wall, the very same one  that I had in my bedroom back in 1984. 

We’ll see if “The Boss” can straighten things out with his sleep patterns.

Thank you,

Todd Totale 

Happy Independence Day

The Escalade next to us was that of a surgeon...still in his scrubs

Well Papa go to bed now...It's getting late.

Nothing we can say is gonna change anything now.

I'll be leaving in the morning for Pyro City

Gonna bring some illegal fireworks into town.

They've got fountains and rockets and a helpful staff

They'll make sure you blow up real good

The cops may come around with a hairy eye

They can't stop you no matter if they could

So say goodbye, it's Independence Day

It's Independence Day all down the line

So say goodbye, it's Independence Day


Gonna got a set a bunch of shit on fire

The Promise: The Making of Darkness On The Edge Of Town

I don’t own Darkness On The Edge Of Town.

But after seeing the documentary The Promise: The Making of Darkness on the Edge of Town, I want it.

I don’t have an explanation for not owning it, and radio never really gave it a fair shake except for “Badlands.”

And good luck finding a station that even plays that.

I think that any good documentary-particularly one that focuses on a piece of work like a record album-can measure success by gauging the extent in which you want to learn more about the subject.

After watching the documentary the other night on HBO, I wanted to hear that album immediately.

You get the songs in the documentary, including how they were made, the selection process, etc. They’re good enough to get you interested in the record, but it’s the story of the record that really drove my desire.

I wanted to hear what Springsteen did on this record, an album that came after some heated turmoil with Mike Appel and the long-deserved success of Born To Run. To hear the back story, and how Springsteen approached this record is riveting.

It also sounds like Springsteen was crazy-prolific during this period, and the box set captures some of those tracks that didn’t make the cut in two other additional discs. Since a lot of those cuts ended up on The River, I’d like to hear the other stuff that didn’t make that album either.

And I totally forgot that Springsteen penned “Fire.”

The Boss On Spectacle

Well, color me impressed!
I sat down on a Saturday morning and watched Elvis Costello’s Spectacle on Sundance and wasn’t overwhelmed by pretentious snobbery. In fact, the show featured Bruce Springsteen and the pair dished out a great set and some interesting conversation.
The highlight(s) were a stunning medley of The Boss’ “Radio Nowhere” and Elvis’ “Radio Radio.” I always hated that Springsteen song too, so imagine my surprise at how much I liked this version.
Watching Bruce with the backing band showed him in a very frisky mode-it reminded me of his backing band for the Human Touch/Lucky Town tour, when he made the set extra rowdy to compete with the dirty grunge supporters. He was great, for what it’s worth, and the performance on Spectacle seemed to suggest a fire that I haven’t seen him play with on recent E Street Band clips or with that dismally pedestrian Rock & Roll Hall of Fame show.
Could it be that Bruce is a man in competition with the cash cow that is his longstanding band and with where his heart wants to go musically?
He spoke at length about how he felt when his youngest took a liking to Dylan, recalling the Newport show as “Epic” and secretly hearing “Chimes of Freedom” through the door of his son’s bedroom.
I can’t wait for that type of shit.
Today, I caught the little man singing “All aboard for fun times” today as Iggy Pop’s The Idiot blared on the way to Lowes.
I’m tryin’, Boss.

Bruce Springsteen - The River

It’s not the best Springsteen album-that title probably goes to Born To Run-but The River ranks as my personal favorite. It’s the album that introduced me to Bruce and, as a double record, gave me a nice overview of a variety of different moods our boy from New Jersey possessed.
I suppose that The River is fairly limited in epic scope while filled with songs-a-plenty about life, love, and those annoying Mother-in-laws.
Considering this, The River is probably the best record that a 14 year old kid could stumble upon when examining his collective works. It’s full of out and out rockers (“Ties That Bind,” “Out On The Street,” “Two Hearts”), blue-collar heartbreak (“The River,” “Fade Away,” “Independence Day”) and a bunch of songs that only began to grow as I grew with them.
The best examples are probably later on in the album, a section that I frequently skipped over as a teenager. These were the ones that didn’t immediately grab me-they weren’t intended to-but when I became old enough to appreciate things like space, mood, and sublety, then I began to understand how great Springsteen was, even at that young of age, was an incredible craftsman of rock and roll.
The song that did it for me both then and now is the title track. The appeal was because I grew up in a river town, so the imagery was something I could relate to. I remember vividly thinking how the protagonist, a young man who knocked up his high school sweetheart and then is forced to face the consequences, could have been anyone in my hometown. And as honorable as getting married and doing the right thing might have been, it doesn’t provide him with the tools to keep love strong.
He reminsices of the time when his passion ran deep. Years later, it all seems like a cruel joke as he surveys the remanents of his lost love. “Is a dream a lie that don’t come true” he ponders, “or is it something worse?”
With The River, I became a full-fledged fan of The Boss. I jumped into his back catalog and found that his talent was established well before that two-fer. Every week, I watched the ads for his show in Des Moines supporting The River, longing for a chance to see him and for an allowance that could even afford a ticket.
I got that opportunity a few years later, but I’ll forever be fond of the album that introduced me to Springsteen even when there are other parts of his catalog that are more deserving of praise.

Bruce Springsteen - Working On A Dream

Let’s get right down to it: “Outlaw Pete,” the opening track of Bruce Springsteen’s sixteenth album Working On A Dream does sound just like Kiss’ “I Was Made For Loving You.” It’s not a complete re-write, but there’s a series of do-do-do’s and a guitar part that mimic the same note sequence as Paul Stanley singing “I was made for lovin’ you baby,” from the horrific Dynasty album.
It’s enough to get Gene Simmons’ attention, but not similar enough to get him to try to sue The Boss.
The déjà-vu won’t leave you mad at Springsteen, but it will have you scratching your head “Why?” Why didn’t any of the performers, producers, confidants, whoever, come up to him and say “You know Bruce, that one part sound like that shitty Kiss song…The one when they went disco…Whadya say we rework it, or better yet, just leave that section out?” Seriously: the song, which drags on for a yawn inducing eight minutes, doesn’t need it at all.
No sir, what it and The Boss needs is a district manager. Someone who can sit him down and advise him on little matters like Kiss, Wal Mart, and his own legacy within the scope of rock and roll.
Working On A Dream isn’t about to change Springsteen’s place in rock history, but more to the point, it won’t going to help it either. It comes off like the third installment of the Human Touch/Lucky Town sessions but even less focused. And even though the liner notes to attribute the performers as the E Street Band, one could make the argument that their character has been all but erased here, supplemented with misguided attempts to sound updated and relevant. Producer Brendan O’Brien may be to blame for some of the unnecessary bombast and clutter within the arrangements, but the real fault lies with Springsteen for putting O’Brien in the predicament for having to cover up what was a weak album before the tape even started rolling.
Take “Queen Of The Supermarket,” a faux lust piece where Springsteen seemingly has run down a list of blue-collar careers primarily held by women (Waitress? Already been done. Hairstylist? Ditto. Checkout girl? Perfect!) and then slapped a few clichés and sappy phrases on it. O’Brien layers so much shit on top of the lyrical nonsense that by the time the song reaches the second half, he has Patty Scialfa doing an over-the-top refrain, a ridiculous orchestral swell, and the fucking beeps of a checkout aisle in the mix. It’s the most embarrassing thing ever in Springsteen’s catalog and it’s almost bad enough to make you give up on listening to the rest of the album.
As for the songs that are at least tolerable, they suffer from an uncomfortable feeling of this iconic artist is growing lost as he approaches his sixth decade, and no one has the good sense to light a fire under his ass or challenge his authority. “Life Itself” sounds like he’s trying to channel Warren Zevon. “Good Eye” finds him aping the blues while the rest of the band sounds like they’re lost inside of the interloping rhythms of Bruce’s distorted yelps and repetitive harmonica. “Tomorrow Never Knows” utilizes a nice acoustic shuffle before, once again, Brendan O’Brien starts tossing pointless vocal effects and worthless instrumentation into the mix.
Working On A Dream is nothing more than a half-hearted attempt at building excitement for another arena tour with the E Street Band. The thing is, the show itself is excitement enough and Bruce’s latest greatest hits compilation for Wal-Mart will probably do more to fill the seats than any memorable track on this album.
And for good reason: the songs on that compilation hark back to a time when Springsteen was a reliable champion of the everyman while Working On A Dream sounds like a white collar effort from someone who’s become part of the problem.
The only dream that is being worked on here is The Boss’ financial well-being.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

Bruce Sprinsteen - Working On A Dream

Let’s get right down to it: “Outlaw Pete,” the opening track of Bruce Springsteen’s sixteenth album Working On A Dream does sound just like Kiss’ “I Was Made For Loving You.” It’s not a complete re-write, but there’s a series of do-do-do’s and a guitar part that mimic the same note sequence as Paul Stanley singing “I was made for lovin’ you baby,” from the horrific Dynasty album.
It’s enough to get Gene Simmons’ attention, but not similar enough to get him to try to sue The Boss.
The déjà-vu won’t leave you mad at Springsteen, but it will have you scratching your head “Why?” Why didn’t any of the performers, producers, confidants, whoever, come up to him and say “You know Bruce, that one part sound like that shitty Kiss song…The one when they went disco…Whadya say we rework it, or better yet, just leave that section out?” Seriously: the song, which drags on for a yawn inducing eight minutes, doesn’t need it at all.
No sir, what it and The Boss needs is a district manager. Someone who can sit him down and advise him on little matters like Kiss, Wal Mart, and his own legacy within the scope of rock and roll.
Working On A Dream isn’t about to change Springsteen’s place in rock history, but more to the point, it won’t going to help it either. It comes off like the third installment of the Human Touch/Lucky Town sessions but even less focused. And even though the liner notes to attribute the performers as the E Street Band, one could make the argument that their character has been all but erased here, supplemented with misguided attempts to sound updated and relevant. Producer Brendan O’Brien may be to blame for some of the unnecessary bombast and clutter within the arrangements, but the real fault lies with Springsteen for putting O’Brien in the predicament for having to cover up what was a weak album before the tape even started rolling.
Take “Queen Of The Supermarket,” a faux lust piece where Springsteen seemingly has run down a list of blue-collar careers primarily held by women (Waitress? Already been done. Hairstylist? Ditto. Checkout girl? Perfect!) and then slapped a few clichés and sappy phrases on it. O’Brien layers so much shit on top of the lyrical nonsense that by the time the song reaches the second half, he has Patty Scialfa doing an over-the-top refrain, a ridiculous orchestral swell, and the fucking beeps of a checkout aisle in the mix. It’s the most embarrassing thing ever in Springsteen’s catalog and it’s almost bad enough to make you give up on listening to the rest of the album.
As for the songs that are at least tolerable, they suffer from an uncomfortable feeling of this iconic artist is growing lost as he approaches his sixth decade, and no one has the good sense to light a fire under his ass or challenge his authority. “Life Itself” sounds like he’s trying to channel Warren Zevon. “Good Eye” finds him aping the blues while the rest of the band sounds like they’re lost inside of the interloping rhythms of Bruce’s distorted yelps and repetitive harmonica. “Tomorrow Never Knows” utilizes a nice acoustic shuffle before, once again, Brendan O’Brien starts tossing pointless vocal effects and worthless instrumentation into the mix.
Working On A Dream is nothing more than a half-hearted attempt at building excitement for another arena tour with the E Street Band. The thing is, the show itself is excitement enough and Bruce’s latest greatest hits compilation for Wal-Mart will probably do more to fill the seats than any memorable track on this album.
And for good reason: the songs on that compilation hark back to a time when Springsteen was a reliable champion of the everyman while Working On A Dream sounds like a white collar effort from someone who’s become part of the problem.
The only dream that is being worked on here is The Boss’ financial well-being.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

10th Avenue Sell Out

I have no idea what the fuck is going on inside my body, but I began vomiting like a champion about thirty minutes after the Super Bowl ended on Sunday. And then, when there was nothing left to vomit, my body advised me that I needed to vomit some more. How strange it is when you can literally make the most unholy of noises and have nothing to show for it. One could theoretically walk down the street dry-heaving and have your clothes remain dutifully in tact and soil free.
Not that I was in any shape to walk around, mind you.
The next morning I called in sick…puke free, thank God…but with the soreness of Apollo Creed after facing the Rocky Balboa.
“Hit ‘em with the body punches, Rock!” said Mick.
And my body felt like it had witnessed a flurry of body punches per Mick’s grizzled yells from the corner, as it hurt to laugh, cough, or sneeze.
“Ain’t gonna be no rematch!” said
Don’t want one. But then the poopsy daises stopped by which led me to begin reading a book about The Night Stalker. After chapter seven, things had calmed downstairs enough for me to crawl to bed, secretly wishing that I was old enough to get a Depends “undergarment” and have someone else deal with my exploding diarrhea.
Too much information?
It’s a great Police song!
I recently did a review of the new Bruce Springsteen album and then checked out some of the other reviews of it. I don’t like reading reviews of albums before I start writing one of my own. Typically, I’ll wait until afterwards and then I’ll get paranoid that what I’ve written is too similar to what I’ve read, forcing me to contemplate a re-write. Fuck it though, if what I’ve written is fresh and what I feel then it should stay, no matter if someone else feels the same way or sites similar passages.
The new Bruce album sucks balls. It’s really bad, trust me. Not awful, but piss poor in a “what the fuck were you thinking” kind of way for someone like Bruce Springsteen. Anyone who feels that his best work is behind him need only listen to Working On A Dream once to determine that it’s true.
I see that Rolling Stone magazine gave the album five stars. I know it’s funny that something from Rolling Stone would work me up to a lather, but I have to tell you that there has to be some kind of shenanigans afoot here because, unless there’s something wrong with your auditory functions, there is nothing on this album that would warrant a five-star rating.
Nothing.
The only thing I can figure is that the editors of Rolling Stone don’t want to offend the boss to the point where he won’t speak to them any more, which is hilarious because the magazine’s teen base doesn’t give a fuck that Bruce Springsteen is anyway.
I began reading the review to get some kind of insight into what could possibly warrant such a great rating. I mean, there is a ton of what I would consider “five-star” albums out there, but I have to acknowledge that some of them are great because I think they are. It doesn’t mean that it is something that has to be in your collection, unconditionally. Those are the undisputed ones…the Pet Sounds or Never Mind The Bullocks…the ones that you have to have. The ones that I think are vital, but aren’t universally necessary, I’m going to give 4.5 stars.
And believe me, Working On A Dream is nowhere fucking near a 4.5 star album.
On top of all this, I was genuinely excited about the Boss performing at halftime at the Super Bowl. True to form, Bruce gave a capable performance that, like the new album, was far from fucking memorable.
Do I remember the songs?
Some kind of truncated medley, wasnit?
Freeze Out>Born To Run>Shitty New Song>Glory Days? Right?
Maybe it was my fever dream, but I can’t remember shit about the actual quality of the songs other that Bruce shoved his wing-wang towards the camera, told me to put down the guacamole, and shot the shit with Little Steven at the end.
Oh yeah, and he’s going to Disneyland. Like anyone goes to Disneyland. It’s Disneyworld boss, and you made enough to pay for the upgrade.
And they didn’t even have to really work at it.
Yes, apparently performing live at the Super Bowl is such a chore now that they essentially had the band play along to a backing track with the only “live” part of the festivities being Bruce’s vocals. That’s fine, I suppose, but don’t advertise it at “Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band performing live at halftime.” Call it “Bruce Springsteen singing live at halftime with the E Street Band on stage, acting like they’re playing but not really.”
More distressing than a by-the-numbers performance where most of the band wasn’t even really playing or than an overly-hyped shitty album is Springsteen’s recent transformation into a money-grubbing caricature of his former self. He’s made more than enough from album sales and successful touring to secure himself and his children. Why the need to secure a deal with Wal-Mart for yet another greatest hits compilation? Why alienate your fan base…the same ones that will be forking over large sums of money on nonsensical convenience fee and service charges…by letting them flounder in shady Ticketmaster offshoots that require even more money?
This isn’t the Bruce I remember.
This won’t be the Bruce that I support.

OCD Chronicles: Bruce Springsteen "Human Touch"

I was checking out some raunchy old-man-on-teen-girl porn when the laptop tried out a nifty virus that’s pretty elusive and protective. Protective in the sense that it wouldn’t let me figure out who he was so that I could kill him. Now, the laptop is getting gutted for a hefty price and hopefully all of the shit (rightings, reviews, and jpegs of hot gramps-on-girl action) can be saved.
Particularly since a lot of this site’s content is sitting on its exposed harddrive.
In the meantime, it’s important to document another O.C.D. track that’s been at the ready during commutes and on the dome while at work dealing with rich cocksuckers.
Side note: I’m fairly confident that I don’t like 87.65% of the residents in New Jersey.
Which is strange because my current song is one from a resident of New Jersey. What’s even stranger is that the selection is the title track of a fairly unforgettable 1992 album called Human Touch.
It’s weak. It’s pedestrian. And, in some ways, it’s perfect: An average Springsteen song that’s sounds like a lift of another average Springsteen song which means that it’s better than most of the songs on the radio anyway. Is it Bruuuce going through the motions? Perhaps, but it’s still Bruuuce.
And that’s the key with Human Touch and the mildly better companion Lucky Town: they’re the sound of one of rock’s most notoriously hard-working rockers settling down in his middle age. Fuck, it even admits as much at the end of the first verse:
“In the end what you don’t surrender
Well, the world just strips away”
As mild-mannered as it is, “Human Touch” has a few great things going for it. The first, as the last quote demonstrates is that it’s, big fucking surprise here, wonderfully well written. The title track, more than any other song on Human Touch, tries to set clear expectations with long standing fans who found The Boss’ early 90’s choices a little off-settling (no E Street Band were seemingly replaced by a bunch of session players). “Ain’t nobody drawing wine from this blood” he admits in one line of the song, while finding some strangely inspired vocal takes with his wife during that part in the bridge where they go “Oh girl, that feeling of safety you prize/Well, it comes at a hard, hard price.”
It gives me goosebumps, just as the line “I know I ain’t nobody’s bargain/But hell, a little touch up and a little paint…” puts a big-ass grin on my face every fucking time.
I saw Bruce during this tour. It was my second meeting with The Boss and even in the company of his younger, nameless backing band, he still managed to rock the joint. Even the pap material of the Human/Lucky pair sounded great, and Bruce looked fairly inspired throughout the set
You may have been able to compile the best points of Springsteen’s twin ’92 offerings into something on the same level as Tunnel Of Love but whatever. For me, right at this moment, the best Bruce song ever recorded was nothing but a replica of a previously recorded track that didn’t even catch my ear the first time it came around

Bruce Springsteen-Born To Run The 30th Anniversary Edition

An admirable man, Henry Rollins, once said “You got ‘my-bossman’s-a-motherfucker-and-I-want-to-cut-his-balls-off-and-shove-them-right-down-his-throat’ blues!” and he was right. The boss is a micromanaging fucktard and he has been the subject of my ire for the past few weeks. The motherfucker is nickel-and-diming me with my bonus payout and when you fuck with the cashflow….Well it’s whatever the guitarist from the Dwarves said to the verbally abusing audience member back in ’96 after the lead singer smacked the aforementioned verbal abuser in the face with his microphone, Rodger Daltry style.
But this story ain’t about my boss. It’s about our boss. The one from Jersey. That dude who you’d, for whatever reason, like to be able to “pfft” but can’t because, well, he writes such fucking good songs.
For me, that “pfft” would come around the time that “Lucky Town,” or whatever the fuck it was called, came out. Then again, I actually went to a Springsteen show during the “Lucky Town” tour and the thing fucking rocked. This guy managed to completely destroy, for the better part of three hours no less, and he did it without the help of The E Street Band. Bruce Springsteen, if you haven’t heard, puts on some righteous live concerts, and no true rock fan should die without attending one. Period.
I couldn’t tell you one member of his band from that tour/album. The only thing I can tell you is that when you go to work for The Boss, he expects you to be proficient at your instrument and be willing to work overtime.
Apparently, his live abilities aren’t an isolated event; Springsteen has consistently owned live shows for his entire career. The first concert I saw with him included the E Street Band and it too ranks high as one of the best shows I’ve ever been to. And that second show without the E Streeters would destroy over 75% of the rest of the shows I’ve seen.

Springsteen released the 30th Anniversary edition of the album that propelled him into superduperstar status: “Born To Run.” I’ve got to confess to not owning a single Springsteen disc (I only have vinyl copies) so I didn’t have the feeling that I was getting fucked in the ass when Columbia re-issued it with a cleaned up sound quality and bonus material. The bonus material is actually two DVDs: one of the making/back-story of the “Born To Run” album and a live DVD from Bruce’s first U.K. appearance that coincided with the release of the album. No bonus tracks are included with the package, which is actually a nice twist-Springsteen and the packagers force you to consider the album in the same context as its initial release. The difference being the bonus material that is included allows the fan to act as a fly on the wall for this album, from start to finish. The only thing that isn’t included is the impact it had on Springsteen himself. From this point on, he became a high profile artist for Columbia and for rock itself. In my opinion, when you consider the body of work that Bruce has taken since this release, he’s handled himself remarkably well and remarkably consistent. I’m hard pressed to find a period of his work that would be considered “a low point.” Bruce’s early 90’s work was mediocre, but I wouldn’t consider it embarrassing. If anything, it prompted a special edition version of “Born To Run” because you tend to forget the reasons why an artist becomes universally revered. And this special edition reminds us that the reason why we revered him.
The first reason is because “Born To Run” is an essential album. Masterfully written and impeccably executed, the music transcends time and the quality of it remains as relevant today as it was in 1975. Which got me thinking about how it was actually received in 1975. My guess is that, because it is musically flawless, it may have been looked as a polished effort, sonically enhanced by producers intending to make a big sounding record. The thing is, “Born To Run” the song is a big song to begin with; it may be the reason why there are no demo versions, alternate takes, or early mixes of the song. They show the progression of the song, how it achieves that Spectoresque-sound, but this is part of the video extras.
The other thing I noticed from the presentation of the album is how expertly it was sequenced. I’ve long felt that album sequencing has become a lost art during the CD era; here is a perfect example of how sequencing can influence the impact of an album. Firstly, the album has a bare-bones number of songs: 8 tracks. But every one of those tracks is critical to the story “Born To Run” provides us. Today, and ironically Springsteen is guilty of this too, albums are filled with tracks that merely add to the total time. Case in point: Springsteen could have made a really good record in 1992 if someone with some balls had combined the entire “Lucky Town” and “Human Touch” albums and brought it down to only ten cuts.
“Born To Run” knows that if you’re going to make an epic album, every cut counts. Every cut does: from the Broadway-via-Jersey opener “Thunder Road” all the way to the closer “Jungleland.” Springsteen was forced into a make-it-or-break-it scenario and he throws it down. “Show a little faith/there’s music in the night” he barks in “Thunder Road,” and with an image like that he masterfully throws down an everyman line “You ain’t a beauty/but hey, you’re alright.” And that’s a perfect example of why he’s on the same playing field as a Dylan, Davies, or Townshend; the notion that a smart blue-collar bloke can get out of their cul-de-sac using words can inspire even the not too literal.

The live DVD shows Bruce and his updated E-Street Band finally arriving over the pond to bring this very American sound to the country’s forefathers. The performance is just as theatric as the album, with the E-Street Band perfectly executing the current crop of titles with those that made a name for them in New England. The audience remains intently focused on him, perhaps asking how such a bloke could evoke the same amount of sheer drama as a Ziggy who needed platforms to demonstrate his own larger than life sound.
“She’s The One” begins as a harp train traveling through Bo Diddly territory before arriving at the familiar album rave up. Springsteen crawls in, around, and over the stage, playing the spotlight like a master. But the real masters are the band themselves, who with every song, throw down a good shift and let the boss take credit for how good the performance is. Seriously, the fact that cameras were able to catch this performance is a blessing. Just as he knew he had to make “the” album with “Born To Run,” Springsteen understood that he would have to provide this English audience with “the” performance to justify the hype that arrived on their shores before they even played a note.
They deliver. It’s a spectacular performance and one, I’m sure, few in the audience forgot about. And a performance that we now can witness to have a solid frame of reference of why the boss deserves our respect.