The Truths of The Boss. Unshared? [by Tina Kelley]

Bruce Springsteen is in the news today for saying “Hello Ohio!” in…Michigan on Friday, but geez people, how many of us are way under 60 and way less talented, energetic, or able to memorize 27 songs a night, let alone write or perform them?

 I was lucky enough to see Bruce’s last concert ever at Giants Stadium last month, and for a mostly-life-long Jersey Girl, it was a giant treat, one of those serendipitous gifts from above that make me pinch myself.

Sure, I had told my neighbors, I’ll take care of your three cats for two weeks. That’s what pet-loving neighbors do for each other in New Jersey, and do for free. And then the neighbors come home and say “Hey, we fell into two free Bruce tickets, wanna come?”

Is the Boss a hottie?  

I grew up on Bruce. He sang the anthems that described my teens and twenties, the pride we took in finding beauty and meaning where everyone else saw overcrowding and pollution.  

I discovered him in high school, when I was just starting to understand that cool music was out there, when I heard a guy a year older talking about Clarence Clemons.  

This was the music that captured the 80s for me, but also whatever this decade is called. Only Bruce has the power to make me feel what borders on nostalgia for those strange, mournful, and oddly-sunny days right after September 11.

Only Bruce could have written the two songs--“Born to Run” and “Thunder Road”—-that somehow buoyed me and kept me hopeful during a six-week cancer scare in 2007. And when my Dad died the day before I found out I didn’t have cancer, it was hearing “Thunder Road” that made me bawl for inexplicable reasons, but mostly because I had never shared my worry with my parents.

Around me in Giants Stadium were a ton of 40- and 50-year-olds, “my people,” the girls who taught us to smoke, the people who blanket the sands of Point Pleasant, the guys our marching band played for. This is where we go when the weather turns, all 65,000 of us.  

We bring praise for Bruce, for his productivity, for the way he describes our lives. We admire the way he lauds the common man, the way he’s probably a nice guy (and we can’t believe any allegations to the contrary). One of us even carries a sign that says “Bruce is My Religion.”  

Then it hits me, when the Jumbotron displays a close-up of all the hands raised in praise.   I look with my binoculars. I realized, I hadn’t seen that many white people in a public place since I took my mother to see the Cheiftains at NJPAC in Newark.   

Truly, the only black guy I can see is The Big Man  himself, playing the sax. All those arms were white, a a sea of Crayola “flesh” color, or at least that’s what it was called when I was a kid, before we started to know the error of that name, the implication that other colors didn’t count.  

Am I that white that my all-time favorite rock star has no appeal for black Jerseyans? Is this music, which embodies both my youth and my recent years, somehow excluding or repelling people of color? What’s wrong with me for loving something that doesn’t seem to be loved universally?  

I asked a friend of mine who is black, apologizing first for asking someone “what black people think.” (“Ask them yourself,” my college roommate rightly told me once.) My friend said she noticed the same thing at Bono and U2 concerts, maybe concerts are too expensive, who knows? Maybe concerts by black artists have audiences that are less melanin-deprived.

Anyone have any ideas? And, in the meantime, speaking of poetry, can anyone think of a better motto for this particular recession than “No retreat, baby, no surrender”?  

Comments

[Robin]

Y'know, Mr. Bruce himself should read this -- for its poetry, pathos, elegance, honesty -- and then he should ponder the questions you ask at the end. I'd be *very* curious to know his reaction to your post.

[Lou Carlozo]

Fabulous work, Tina. There is a song in this. No strike that, more than a few songs. You done did Bruce proud...

[mitch s.]

My favorite line: "The rat traps, filled with soul crusaders..." This transcends race.

[Livia]

I've read Tina Kelley's beautiful poetry and insightful social analysis in The New York Times... I'm not surprised in the least that she would connect with the power of The Boss beyond just state pride or teenage nostalgia, and notice the lack of faces of color in his audience. I love this blog posting, because it gives us all so much to think about.

Bruce Springsteen is certainly not a racist, but there may be something about his work that resonates specifically with the white working class. And while Michael Jackson had fans that were both black and white (and Hispanic, south american, Asian, east Asian, middle eastern, and on and on and on), when he died, Al Sharpton correctly declared that he was "our boy, we gave him to you." And when he died, his fans didn't flock to Madison Square Garden, it was the Apollo.

Cher and Madonna represent strong women, but most social commentators and the artists themselves would probably say that their most ardent and loyal audience is the gay community.

But back to Bruce, Ms. Kelley puts it best when she herself notes that in regard to New Jersey, "the pride we took in finding beauty and meaning where everyone else saw overcrowding and pollution," is perhaps the artist's most singular contribution.

It is a talent that binds every great artist with those who come to love them - they give us life, they give us hope, they bring us together.

Thank you again for giving us so much to think about... And thanks for defending Bruce! Every band that tours talks about how disorienting it can be, and anyone who watches him perform live -anywhere and anytime- has to admit that he is doing anything but phone it in. He gives his heart, God bless him. Give the guy a break.

[HG Lindquist]

There is a lot to think about here. I was in high school for the dawn of rock'n'roll and Elvis. That led me to the blues, and the blues led me to jazz. One of the few concerts I have attended was one of Bruce's in the Tacoma Dome in Tacoma, Washington, in the mid-80's.

Music has been a positive force for change in the surrounding society throughout my life. And different groups have had different music and were changing in different ways. A question I would now ask is, "Has music diverted energy that would fuel political change into change in social 'styles'"?

But then the mind-altering substance and sexual revolutions of the 60's and 70's were huge. And maybe the economic successes of the middle class during that period didn't call for political change.

And maybe music was speaking to different groups according to where they were in their social "styles"?

And there the difference in ethnic groups is obvious ... and further divided into subgroups ... and it seems each of us finds a music for our soul. Observing who follows which Pied Piper should tell us something about ourselves ... whomever we are.