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Why I Don't Drive Down Thunder Road

Has Springsteen ever captured the raw glory of his live performance on record? Is he just a populist compromiser who appeals to the common denominator? Was he ever really "the future of rock 'n' roll"?
By G. Gone

Rrrriiiipp, Whoosh, clackety, clackety-clack.

"Arrgh! What you do that for?!!"

It was Oct.1978 and I had just pulled the Bruce Springsteen Darkness On The Edge Of Town tape out of my 8-Track player and tossed it out the car window, much to the chagrin of my crusin' companions.

Yes, I liked Bruce Springsteen. I had been listening to him since a friend's brother had given him Bruce's 1st Lp Greetings From Asbury Park. Soon after, my friends and I discovered Lp #2, The Wild, The Innocent, & The E-Street Shuffle which quickly became a party staple. Of course Born To Run blew the whole damn thing wide open. But I never became a fan, a Real fan. Darkness almost did it for me. It was the 1st (and last) Springsteen album I ever bought, and yet I bought it on 8-Track.

The fierceness of "Adam Raised A Cain" grabbed me with its angry guttural vocals, the light fluttering rim tapping drum sounds that danced delicately under the piano of "Candy's Room," the emotionally stirring solemness of the title track (Yes, I still recall these elements even though it has been over 20 years since I last heard them), all these combined with a chance encounter to finally get me to part with the $5.00 or $6.00 that it cost for an 8-Track back then. This, at a time when I was embracing the Punk/New Wave scene. Sure, I had heard and read Jon Landau's "I have seen the future of Rock & Roll..." quote, but that wasn't it. I had seen the future of Rock & Roll too and it wasn't Bruce Springsteen--it was the quick burning/fast dying Punk/New Wave movement spearheaded by the Sex Pistols, the Clash, a singer/songwriter (similar to B. Dylan cum B. Springsteen) named Elvis Costello, and dozens of other new artists that were clocking the music industry upside the head. That was the future. You can argue that Bruce's career has lasted 10 times longer and has been much more proficient and successful then 90% of the so-called artists that made Punk/New Wave the happening that it was and I'll have to agree, but in his whole career Bruce hasn't come close to changing the hierarchy of Rock & Roll the way the Sex Pistols did. Punk or not, I was still enjoying the full spectrum of music, and Bruce was a part of it until that October day.

It had been a little over 4 weeks since my purchase of the Darkness 8-Track. A purchase I made because of the afore mentioned chance encounter. Darkness had been doing well on the charts since its release in May. The obligatory summer tour was a success, packing them in everywhere. On August 25, I skipped Bruce & The E-Street Band's appearance at the arena in my city to go hang out, drink beer, and try to pick up girls at the local bar, Toad's Place. After all, I wasn't a fan. The cover at Toad's that night was $3.00 (I think) and the band Beaver Brown was playing. (This was before the Eddie & The Cruisers soundtrack which gave them their 15 minutes of fame as "John Cafferty and The Beaver Brown Band.") They played Toad's a lot, and with their Bruce-inspired NJ/Asbury Park sound they drew a lot of girls. Unfortunately, with Bruce and the Boys in town that night, the crowd was a bit light of both girls and guys.

We were about ready to call it a night when the band announced a "Special Guest" and out walks Bruce and his sax man Clarence Clemons. A small frenzy ensued as people realized what was happening. Oddly as all this was, it seemed as though the size of the crowd had doubled in minutes. Could this be associated with the concert (just 7 blocks away) being over and some of that crowd just happening to wander in? Or was there someone from the crowd and/or an employee who was tipped off and was now making frantic phone calls to people telling them to get there fast before "the Boss" (who was now in the "green" room) went on stage? Perhaps a combination of both. Either way we were treated to an amazing inpromptu performance.

A short 3 song set that couldn't have lasted more than 20 minutes. He opened with "Rosalita" and absolutely smoked it! Followed that with "Double Shot Of My Baby's Love" and another song that I can't remember after all these years. I can remember acquiring a new respect for the man as he layed it all out. Overcoming the awkwardness of Beaver Brown, obviously freaked out to be backing the Boss, exposing himself to a small room of people in an intimate manner which could never be reproduced on the stages of the arenas and stadiums. He seemed at home. And while he could command the large venues from the stage, here he allowed the club to command him. Here I could understand Jon Landau's quote. Here was Bruce Springsteen, not "The Boss," playing Rock & Roll as he loved it, up close with the crowd, sharing a piece of himself as he received a piece of each of us back. It gave me the feeling that perhaps this is where Bruce would rather be, instead of in front of the masses that took away the personal aspect of his music. Here the music came forth from his heart; pure, natural, and unaltered by all the trappings of the business. A rare and magical moment, an aside from the hugeness now becoming the norm--a short breather to remind himself, and everybody else, that he could still kick it out like the DIYers now taking fashion by spitting on stardom.

So I went out several days later and picked up Darkness. It seemed as though everyday since the passengers in my car (the party vehicle of the time) were opening my tape case and passing over my Sex Pistols, Clash, Talking Heads, Dead Boys, Ramones, Elvis Costello, Blondie, Cars, Runaways, Patti Smith, Van Halen, Led Zeppelin, Doors, Tom Petty, Blue Oyster Cult, etc., etc. tapes in favor of Bruce. Until the day I snapped. I don't know what did it. Maybe it was because as hard as I wanted Darkness to represent that exhilarating 3 song set at Toad's, it just wasn't living up to what was given to me that night. I could take the "average blue-collar joe singing tales of heartache and unemployment" no longer. Here was a superstar whining. Bruce didn't whine at me at Toad's, he sang to me. He made me feel good to be alive at a time in my life when I was filled with rage and confusion. Rage against the adult real world, and confusion with everything that went along with it. Now, on tape, Bruce wasn't making me feel any better about it. That day, as the tape busted open upon the asphalt beneath the moving car wheels, I swore "No more Bruce".

And so it went, with Bruce backing my disdain by issuing the overlong, unfulfilling, haphazard double LP The River in 1980 (I may have sworn off Springsteen personally, but the radio, media, and general public hadn't). It was a huge success, with a world tour and all the trimmings. Sometime later he put out Nebraska, a dark, haunting solo acoustic album that I heard and immediately liked. A critic's darling, yet a commercial flop that I resisted purchasing for fear of ruining my conflicting opinions of the man and his music. This was followed of course by 1984's Born In The USA. The nation was swept up in a wave of Brucemania which propelled me even further away from the mainstream. Another world tour rolled across the nation as the country basked in renewed patriotism fueled by the title track (many of which mistook the anti-aggression, political scolding, social critique of the song as Red, White, and Blue-ism) with fists raised to the sky as they chanted mindlessly along. The superstardom that had been preordained almost a decade before had finally been undeniably obtained.

I lost track of Bruce a bit after that. Years passed. A 5 LP/3 CD Live set released, a divorce, Tunnel Of Love, a new marriage, the break-up of the E-Street band by Bruce himself (a few years earlier I did purchase "Miami" Steve Van Zandt's Lp Men Without Women which I still enjoy to this day), retirement, a return in '92 with the albums Lucky Town and Human Touch, both recorded with studio musicians and both released on the same day to tepid reviews and disappointing sales, MTV unplugged, Academy and Grammy Awards in '94 for "Streets of Philadelphia," a Greatest Hits release in '95 including new tracks recorded with the reformed E-Street Band. The Greatest Hits package was a instant best seller putting Bruce back into the musical spotlight; he followed it that same year with The Ghost Of Tom Joad. Another solo acoustic album, as haunting as Nebraska yet more successful/accessible now. Could it be the rise in median age of the fans? Or the now wider acceptance of the singer/songwriter acoustic styling a la MTV unplugged? Either way, Bruce was hot again.

Bruce toured behind Tom Joad, playing solo acoustic sets in small intimate venues. Once again he came to my city. This time I considered going to see him; surely it could be as great as that night so many years ago. Then it happened. One dark, dreary, rainy morning on my way to work, over the radio came Rage Against The Machine's cover of "The Ghost Of Tom Joad." It blew me away! It blew Springsteen's take right out of the water. It brought back all the memories as to why I had become fed up with Bruce Springsteen. Here was a man with an amazing talent for writing and performing songs, yet when transformed and put in the spotlight, a certain element of blah-ness took over. Whether solo or with the E-Street Band, The Boss took the easy way out to appeal to the masses, instead of appealing to/from the heart. In the late '70s the urgency of the Punk/New Wave movements brought life to the music. Wicked, ugly, real life that threatened to trample Springsteen and his showmanship. On record and on stage Bruce went for the glory, where as in that short set, in that small club, with that unrehearsed bar band, Springsteen came from the heart with as much raw power, sweat, honesty, and music as any of the Punk/New Wavers of the day. With their remake of "Tom Joad," Rage Against The Machine used the urgency of the music to express the horror of the song, while Springsteen's version went for the familiar territory of the glory obtained by mass acceptance once again.

That's why now, with the success of Tracks the box set and a reunited E-Street Band knocking them dead everywhere they play on this year's model of the world tour, I'll skip the show in my city in favor of playing Rage's version of "Tom Joad," while remembering that night 21 years ago when I saw how great Springsteen actually was. I'll listen and think of how much greater Bruce Springsteen could have been.