After the Bowl, the Boss Should Hang Up His Boots

By Style Columnist Andy Minor

You have to chuckle at the Super Bowl's halftime show picks since “Nipplegate” way back in 2004. It seems that until 2004, no nipples had ever been seen, and the shockwave of such a lewd sight sent amoral ripples through our staunchly moral society. I would hate to see what would have happened if that nipple had appeared any earlier—we might not have been able to handle it.

Since the nipple, however, we have been greeted with a string of the oldest, most wrinkly men the rock n' roll world has to offer. This of course excludes Prince, who doesn't age, doesn't lose sex appeal, and can control the weather, i.e. making it rain during “Purple Rain.”

So when I saw Bruce Springsteen on stage last Sunday night I knew the trend was continuing; there would be no nipples in that show, at least hopefully not.

But it was Springsteen’s sound that kept me from changing the channel back to the Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet. I wanted to hear how he and his E-Street cronies sounded because, despite their old age, the Boss has a knack for keeping his sound as fresh as when he was playing in Asbury Park, N.J. every weekend.

This was the mindset I had when I was a lowly junior in high school, and I was offered a floor seat to see Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band play at nearby FedExField in Maryland. I had a violent cold throughout the whole affair, but it was still an incredible experience.

They played a two-hour set with a one hour encore. All the hits were covered: “Born to Run,” “Rosalita (Come Out Tonight),” “Thunder Road.” I got to hear, in person, the howling banshee-tone projected from Springsteen’s pipes during “Jungleland.”

For that one night I was a dirty teenager driving my 1970 Plymouth Duster up and down the Jersey Turnpike, making promises to myself about how I would get out of my hometown with my girl by my side and really make a difference in the world.

All I needed was my guitar and gas at 65 cents a gallon. I spent the whole Metro ride home from the show in a feverish haze, my nose clogged, my throat sore, my body kept alive by the ringing of true rock n' roll royalty in my ears. I also got to see Max Weinberg, which was really cool.

Springsteen’s Super Bowl performance, however, was a little lackluster and boring. Perhaps it was mere contrast to those vibrant memories I have from my not-so-distant youth, but the music just didn't sound the same. When I saw the Boss a mere five years ago, he still sounded young, as did the band, which in turn made the fans feel young.

But the Super Bowl show featured a version of “Born to Run,” the title track from the Boss' biggest album, at a slower, more relaxed tempo that laid back in the beat like an old man lays back on his orthopedic back pillow. The song is namely about running, specifically convincing a woman to run somewhere with you.

You don't want to lay back into it—that's about as convincing as the guy who sells the ShamWow on TV. If anything, the music in that song should mimic the lyrics: driving forward with the force of an eight cylinder gas-sucking muscle car.

That performance sort of put the final nail in the coffin as far as the Boss is concerned. In recent years I have turned down opportunities to see him play because I know he is no longer focused on what he once was. In the business we call this a period of “Bad Bruce.”

Note the stint in the '80s when Springsteen separated from the E-Street Band; thus began the first era of Bad Bruce. When I saw Springsteen in high school, we had temporarily left a Bad Bruce era, which was not signaled by his album The Rising; it was a little bland.

It was his tour that brought back his old sound, and this is why I was so impressed and why I cherish those memories so much. But when the tour ended, we were greeted with more Bad Bruce, as he released Devils and Dust and We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions.

Both of these albums were pretty much solo recordings, and none of the songs on either of these came close to exciting me like a single track on The Wild, the Innocent and the E-Street Shuffle or Born to Run or Darkness on the Edge of Town.

Perhaps I'm just a little too old school, but when aspects of the Bad Bruce eras begin to change things from the Good Bruce eras, like what happened with “Born to Run” at the Super Bowl, I'm on the side of keeping the Bad from the Good.