The Prodigal Boss

If Elvis is Jesus (as I blasphemously argued last month), then Bruce Springsteen is the Prodigal Son.

It is indisputable that The Boss is more beloved in his home region than any other American rock star. If you live in or near New Jersey, you know many people who are as passionate about Bruce as Green Bayers are about the Packers. They have seen 15 rock concerts in the last decade – and 14 were Bruce shows (the 15th was Southside Johnny at the Stone Pony). The only CDs they have purchased in the last 10 years are The Rising and Magic. They have Bruce coffee table books. They scan Bruce web sites like Backstreets and Greasy Lake for set lists. They bring newborns to the concert like it was a church revival. The announcement of a Bruce tour is greeted with the ecstasy of a papal visit, and elaborate ticket-grabbing schemes are devised.

This sort of passionate intensity for a musician is unusual, at least for 40- and 50-something suburbanites. It is usually seen only in teenagers and Deadheads. How does one explain this?

Mainly, of course, it's the music. None of this is possible if the music didn't deeply touch the core of a large number of music fans. And when I say "the music", I also refer to its live form. Bruce has been one of the most consistently entertaining live acts for decades. He connects with his audience, he's funny, he seems to be having a blast, and he plays for hours. On stage and in the studio, Bruce Springsteen embodies both the Rock Star and the Regular Guy more than any other musician in rock history.

And as my buddy Windex points out, Bruce is one of the rare rockers who is still making good music late in life. The Rising and Magic may not be as good as Born to Run or Darkness, but they're a helluva lot better than Face the Promise or The Naked Ride Home.

But frankly, that's not enough of an explanation for me. I believe that the passion that exists today is far greater than it would have been if Bruce hadn't, like the Prodigal Son, left New Jersey...and then returned.

The Parable of the Boss
Let's pick up our story in the mid-80's. Bruce is at the height of his popularity. He originally made it big in '75 with Born to Run and a historic 10-night run at The Bottom Line in New York City. He even appeared on the covers of Time and Newsweek in the same week.

But Born in the USA, released in 1984, put him in the stratosphere. Some stats (yes, you can always count on stats at FreeTime!): From 1973 to 1983, Bruce had exactly one Top Ten hit (Hungry Heart topped out at #5). Born in the USA alone had seven Top Ten hits. His previous six albums sold a combined 19 million records;. USA sold 15 million on its own. His live album, released in '86, sold another 13 million copies. (These are all U.S. figures).

Bruce Springsteen was on top of the world, and he was New Jersey's favorite son.


"the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country"
And then, it seemed, he started to change. True Bruce fans, of course, were already uncomfortable with his new popularity, the way any group of early fans is ambivalent when their favorite artist finds a huge mainstream audience. But now Bruce was big time.

He married (and promptly divorced) a beautiful young actress. Then he left New Jersey. And he didn't just go anywhere...he went to the anti-Jersey...Hollywood. He started spending quality time with movie stars, contributing songs to movie sound tracks.

And worst of all, he...he...he... he broke up the E Street Band.

He hooked up with some L.A. session musicians and made a couple of mediocre albums (Lucky Town and Human Touch). He then went on tour with these imposters, doing a set heavy on new music. Instead of Thunder Road or Jungleland, he closed each show with Light of Day, a song he wrote for a Michael J. Fox movie. When he did his old stuff, it was either radically re-worked or featured someone who was clearly NOT Clarence Clemons doing the sax solo. His new wife, Patty Scialfa, was a Jersey girl, which was a good thing, but her prominence in the concerts was Yoko-esque. He did a poorly received MTV Unplugged appearance (and album), with "E Street ringers focusing on Bruce's 'solo' material ... well, we won't go there." (Entertainment Weekly)

His Jersey fans weren't happy. In fact, his Meadowlands shows weren't even sold out until show time. Can you imagine that today?

He followed that, in 1995, with the Ghost of Tom Joad tour, in support of the folk album of the same name. This tour, in small arenas, again featured lots of new stuff and dramatically re-worked versions of old songs.
As my buddy Gombo, a lifelong fan, put it, "I just assumed that the old Bruce, the 3-hour concert with the E Street Band, with Backstreets and Rosalita and Night, was gone forever."


"so he got up and went to his father"
But he wasn't gone forever. After that tour, he moved back to New Jersey. In 1998, he released Tracks, featuring dozens of old songs, mostly with the E Stret Band. And in 1999, he he brought the band back together, and went on the Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band Reunion tour.

This was the old Bruce. He played Born to Run and Thunder Road and Tenth Avenue Freezout. He shared a mike with Little Steven and Clarence roared on his sax.

In 2002 he released The Rising, the first studio album with the E Street Band in 18 years. The Rising may be the most powerful work of art inspired by September 11, an event that hit hardest at the place he was from (more New Jerseyans died on 9/11 than New Yorkers).

The Boss was back.

"get the fatted calf and kill it"

My point - and I do have one - is this: the passion of the modern Bruce fan, at least in New Jersey and its environs, would never have reached its heightened pitch, if he hadn't abandoned them for so long. If Bruce hadn't broken up the band and moved to Hollywood, they would not have killed the fatted calf for him.

As the father of the Prodigal Son said to his other son, "But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found."


Extra

1. It was only in researching this that I discovered Bruce recorded an album called "The Prodigal Son" in 1972, but never released it. Details are here.
2. My bet is that the single lowest point for passionate Bruce fans during the bad time was this calamity... (turn down your speakers if you're at work)