Born to Run
Last night I got quite the education into a realm I'd not explored, and did not know how much I would enjoy. Emboldened by my new friend, novelist Andrew Conn (author of the absolutely fantastic P: A Love Story--read it, but leave the kids at home for this naught odyssey, part James Joyce, Part Portnoy, all soul and heart) who, along with my girlfriend Elizabeth, persuaded me to listen to some Bruce Springsteen, I sat down with Born to Run. Knowing she was a fan, I got Eliz the new boxed set anniversary edition, for the holidays, but never had occasion to listen to it myself--until yesterday.
Allow me, then, to be the absolutely last person on earth to hail this record as a particular kind of masterpiece. It is emotionally resonant, musically tight, expressive without just being screamy, and Tolstoy-like in its stuck exuberebce. So exciting, so poetic, so sad, the great American record about the not-so-great American experience. And watching the documentary that accompanied the CD, hearing the uneducated educated Mr. Springsteen talk about his process with niether pomp nor pretenstion was really something. Knowing the record, uncannily raw as it sounds, was the product of measured, hurculean effort on the part of all involved (there's even a short scene of BS conducting with a drumstick that made me smile for an hour or so!) is nothing short of inspirational to me as a composer: we all have to labor for our ease, even Mozart, even Yo-Yo Ma...and even Bruce Springsteen.
Once, when on the Jersey Shore, I proclaimed "Now I understand Bruce Springsteen!" Now, hearing him--really hearing him--I now feel I understand the Jersey Shore.
Allow me, then, to be the absolutely last person on earth to hail this record as a particular kind of masterpiece. It is emotionally resonant, musically tight, expressive without just being screamy, and Tolstoy-like in its stuck exuberebce. So exciting, so poetic, so sad, the great American record about the not-so-great American experience. And watching the documentary that accompanied the CD, hearing the uneducated educated Mr. Springsteen talk about his process with niether pomp nor pretenstion was really something. Knowing the record, uncannily raw as it sounds, was the product of measured, hurculean effort on the part of all involved (there's even a short scene of BS conducting with a drumstick that made me smile for an hour or so!) is nothing short of inspirational to me as a composer: we all have to labor for our ease, even Mozart, even Yo-Yo Ma...and even Bruce Springsteen.
Once, when on the Jersey Shore, I proclaimed "Now I understand Bruce Springsteen!" Now, hearing him--really hearing him--I now feel I understand the Jersey Shore.
posted by Daniel at 7:04 PM
2 Comments:
Oh Danny . . . you poor sheltered boy. At least someone has had the sense to finally sit you down for the Springstreen lecture. I got mine about six years ago after making a snide comment about Mr. Bruce and 'Born in the USA', which I assumed was some uber patriotic hoo hah I wanted nothing to do with. And then, boom! Someone gave me 'Nebraska' and 'Born to Run' and said listen close. And I did.
who is the sexy girl with only one eye? I don't like The Boss either. sorry. Isn't that what the kids are calling him these days?
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