By James Arthur Casey
About a month ago, my wife and I decided to cancel our Netflix, which we’ve subscribed to ever since the days when they mailed DVDs and streaming was considered a bonus. It wasn’t long until I realized my mistake…I knew full well that Springsteen On Broadway was scheduled to air the last show of its run on Netflix in mid-December. Oh, well, it’s inconceivable to think that the performance will not be available in every conceivable format by this time next year. I think I’ll probably still be alive and kicking by then so patience is all that’s required.
Alas, a few days ago I noticed, as if by divine providence, that our Netflix account was still active. Normally I wouldn’t have cared but this turn of events proved to be an opportunity to see Springsteen On Broadway a couple of times. I knew when the show began its run that I’d never be able to make the trip to New York or pony up the inflated prices at the box office at Walter Kerr Theatre where the intimate performance was slated to occur. As a defense mechanism against being too disappointed, I made up my mind that I didn’t want to see it anyway. I conjured a handful of excuses why I couldn’t be bothered with caring about this particular event. Now, at the time I had no assurance that the production would be successful…for all I knew it could have flopped and vanished into the sinkhole of failed Broadway one-man acts, it wasn’t too hard not to care.
But it was a success. It was more successful than anyone imagined it could be and after several extended runs, Springsteen On Broadway found itself becoming a fixture, selling out the venue every single time for over a year. The accolades poured in. This was a singular production and Bruce was, at the ripe age of 69, at the top of his game…
…but I didn’t care. I couldn’t afford to care. Why should I care? I’d never see it just like I’ll probably never get to see a concert at Red Rocks or probably even walk along the beach of the Pacific or Atlantic. So big deal, right? To me, at least, no?
Well, no, I suppose I did care after all. Evidenced by how excited I was when I pressed ‘Play’ on the Netflix app which will be uninstalled this time tomorrow. It was like fate. I was meant to see this Broadway show even if I’m 100% certain that Springsteen On Broadway is the ONLY Broadway production I could ever give a rat’s ass for. Expectations were inflated but not unrealistically. I know what Bruce Springsteen is capable of and if the show has been sold out with rave reviews for as long as it has that means it’s a must-see. Now, thanks to Netflix and good timing I am given that early Christmas gift.
Imagine my surprise being disappointed by the first song. The theme of the show is summed up in the song title “Growin’ Up,” so that would logically be the perfect opening number. The stories and commentaries were, as they remain throughout the production, a fascinating window into Springsteen’s life and worldview. “Growin’ Up” is one of his oldest songs so there’s another reason why it makes sense as an introductory piece. But it’s a pale, weak song compared to every single one to come, the product of an ambitious young man looking to impress a record label and a burgeoning fan-base. It’s wordy…too wordy. Not only that, much of it is sung in a monotone that grates. Springsteen is a consummate folk singer with a rich, expressive baritone but “Growin’ Up” from Springsteen On Broadway was hard for me to listen to. I don’t blame it on his vocal ability — he’s done it much better — but you can kind of tell he’s weary of singing it five nights a week.
I gave “Growin’ Up” this much attention because I want to let everyone who might hear it the way I do to know that it’s the anomaly. Everything after that song is top-shelf quality. Don’t let it keep you from trudging on through what’s left of the show’s sprawling two-hour running time. Still, it won’t be the music that rivets you to the screen, good and essential as it is. What makes Springsteen On Broadway special are the monologues that bookend each song. Some of the material is lifted directly from the man’s autobiography, Born To Run, and they contribute to the segments which focus on his upbringing, parents, and early history. The stories are fascinating, his delivery perfect — no, he’s not an actor, these aren’t lines in a script.
I imagine at least 95% of the people in Walter Kerr are diehard Bruce Springsteen fans. Make no mistake, this is not “An Introduction to Bruce Springsteen”. This is going out to all the guys with graying hair defending The Boss against charges of being “Dad Rock” (and if it is, then all the better. Dad’s deserve something this good). This is going out to everyone who subscribes to Sirius XM for the sole purpose of listening to E Street Radio AND NOTHING ELSE. This is going out to all the redditors on the Springsteen subreddit who have read all the biographies, seen him in concert multiple times and basically know everything there is to be known about Bruce Springsteen without actually knowing him. This is going out to the Springsteen freaks in California who made the road trip to New York City to witness Springsteen On Broadway in person. These are the hardcore fans who understand and have been on the journey…
Yet, just because one may not be “in the club” yet, Springsteen on Broadway reveals it’s star to be personable and charismatic enough to fall head and heels in love with, despite whatever age difference there may be. New fans will likely be drawn into the fold via this Netflix release but it’s the long-timers who are going to be most impacted with the deluge of personal observations that make up the rest of the program. Make no mistake, Bruce Springsteen is an intelligent, seasoned storyteller. His between-songs stories during his concerts are part of his appeal, but usually he limits those moments to stories about the glory days of Asbury Park.
There are occasions, however, when he will make a political statement or offer some kind of message designed to motivate his audience to charitable deeds (he was plugging the Tulsa Food Bank when I saw him there). In Springsteen On Broadway, he takes similar liberties, especially towards the end of the concert, to express the opinions that have made him the enemy of shortsighted right wingers who hate the man for those opinions and condemn his music as the work of a Lefty sympathizer…without hearing it, of course. Bruce tastefully condenses the current chaotic political climate and even pokes a jab (at Trump and his base) by highlighting a line in “Dancing in the Dark” — “You can’t start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart.” I thought that was brilliant, finding that relevant line in the middle of the most non-political song ever written. The word “Trump” is never spoken (much to the relief and delight of the audience).
There were, as is standard in things like these, a few highlights that stood out. For me there were a couple. “Tenth Avenue Freeze Out” turned into a loving tribute to the Big Man, Clarence Clemons, who played saxophone in the E Street Band and passed away in 2011. Clarence was truly Bruce’s right-hand man and closer than any brother. The song itself is anything but elegiac but somehow he transformed it into a joyous tearjerker.
I mentioned the Bruce Springsteen subreddit on Reddit…I hope I didn’t give the impression that the people there are the most perceptive or that they can necessarily spot talent when its name isn’t Bruce Springsteen. No, there are some who are so jealous and possessive that they actually hate Bruce’s wife Patti Sciafla. She plays two songs with Bruce (nothing unexpected there), “Brilliant Disguise” and “Tougher Than The Rest.” She only sang harmony vocals and not every one of those. But those Redditors, holy cow! “Her voice doesn’t go well with Bruce’s…” That’s crap. They sound nothing alike, that’s true (can you imagine hearing Patti Sciafla with Bruce Springsteen’s voice? But I suppose that would have pleased these redditors). Together, they really sound wonderful. Not just the voices but their phrasing is remarkably in sync, that’s what impresses me most. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t like Patti Sciafla’s singing voice, at all. Every single time I’ve heard her sing a track by herself, I have not liked it. Her vibrato seems too affected and she’s got that nasal twang that I only tolerate in my own singing voice. But here, on a soundstage in a Broadway theater harmonizing with her husband, she sounds very good.
“Long Time Comin'” was probably the highlight for me musically. It fit so well with his monologue and he sang it with such passion…
The most powerful moment, in my heart at least, was (I think) during the last segment (before the encore) when Springsteen, sweating from two-and-a-half hours baring his soul with a guitar and piano, face caught in a tight close-up, eyes closed and the man, in the pin drop silence of the Walter Kerr Theatre in New York City, recited the Lord’s Prayer after delivering his own thoughts on life in these United States under the helm of the inexperienced, fear-mongering, divisive…
My dearly beloved remarked that Bruce is “starting to show his age.” She’s not quite the Springsteen fan that I am and hasn’t seen pictures or video footage of him lately. It’s true — at 69, Bruce Springsteen is no spring chicken. But he has not lost his rugged handsome appearance and still looks like he’s in shape to the point where he would have little difficulty kicking this big boy’s ass. I’ve thought, as he’s aged, that Springsteen favors, albeit slightly, Robert DeNiro. Ya can’t see Robert DeNiro as “old” and you sure can’t see Bruce Springsteen that way either. A Broadway thing like this, as intensely personal a career retrospective you will not see again soon, can be seen as a potential “goodbye”. But the Boss is not ready to pack the guitars away just yet. Rumor has it that he’s already planning another tour with the E Street Band.
Neil Young sang “It’s better to burn out than it is to rust.”
Maybe.
Alternate title for Springsteen on Broadway: Rust-Proof.
Dad Rock at its absolute best.
