Just listened to new Springsteen album – full version this time

This is true.

A very nice man dropped by my office yesterday, asked for me and handed me a CD in a clear plastic sleeve. On it, it said ‘Bruce Springsteen – Magic’. He nodded at me in a knowing way, winked and left.

I didn’t ask any questions about where he got it. But as soon as he was out the door, I had the thing on our CD player.

The big surprise was that it wasn’t as bad as I had been led to believe. And another big surprise was that the ‘young uns’ around me seemed to like it as well. This is the generation that are listening to The Klaxons, by the way.

So that was promising at least. And some of the songs are good. Not sure that the album has any cohesive production or theme. But that darned saxophone of Clarence’s – it really hacks me off big time.

Still, it will stay on the office playlist for a while. Will reserve full judgement for a while longer.

Why Bruce used to matter to me and my mates

Continuing the Springsteen theme, and just to prove that Bruce meant a lot to me a long, long time ago, I attach “The River.” See below.

When this came out it was a bit of a revelation. For some Americans, it was the start of a realisation that there were tough things happening in the land of Apple Pie. For many Irish, it was a real-good feeling because somewhere in Springsteen’s Dutch and Italian heritage he had proudly resurrected a Catholic Irish background that he referred to often. And we Irish certainly made the most of the fact that Bruce was almost one of our own, someone who could tell a story in a really engaging lyric – big time.

Me, I was at University at the time this came out, reading people like Flannery O’Connor  and soaking up much of the vibe about Springsteen as a short-story writer – one who, in the guise of a rock and roller, could almost beat the big American short-story giants at their own game. Better than that, it was like he was Flannery O’Connor, Ansell Adams, Georgia O’Keefe all rolled into one. Writer, artist, image-maker – he could paint vivid scenes or break your heart with just a couple of words.

Back then too, I was also friendly with a beautiful native of Philly – blonde, witty, intelligent, musical (she could play guitar better than Chrissie Hynde, we thought) – who told us great stories of nights travelling the turnpikes, skipping from one bar to the next – chrome wheeled, fuel injected, steppin’ out over the line. The trip from Enniskillen to dances in Bundoran was never quite the same after that.

That’s why this Video is the best – and because it was the first video we ever saw on a great big video juke box. So while we should have been doing lots of other things – like essays and tutorials and the sort – we stood in the Edgewater Hotel in Portstewart and pumped coin after coin into the slot and watched one helluva short story unfold… time after time after time after time…

Bruce and Miami Steve at The Stone Pony

Seeing as we’re talking about Springsteen, here’s a little rock and roll gem. Bruce gets up on stage to help out Steve van Zandt work his way through Steve’s song Native American – obviously a new song because Bruce has to rely on a lyrics sheet. And it happens at the famous Stone Pony club in Asbury Park – where Southside Johnny was the house band, where Springsteen played all-nighters with Steel Mill, where he first met Patti and where he was cheered on by a young Jon Bon Jovi among others. But never mind all that, this is pure atmosphere…