Michael Jackson v Bruce Springsteen


Posted June 29th, 2009
At the weekend in Glastonbury and Hyde Park, Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band rocked the UK. It was an outstanding, uplifting, affecting show that ran the emotional gamut, from the celebratory opening cover of The Clash’s ‘London Calling’ to the sombre, melancholic intensity of a darkly restrained ‘Racing In The Streets’ to the explosive release of ‘Born To Run’. The crowd were moved from singalong exuberance to hushed awe, a real sense of community instilled by Springsteen’s charismatic showmanship and the band’s sense of giving everything they’ve got in the service of some higher purpose. A Springsteen gig is one of the few places I don’t even feel vaguely embarrassed to indulge in rock and roll rituals, because they are celebrated both ironically (there’s more than a nod and a wink in his showboating) and yet purposefully, because the essence of Springsteen is to say this is real life, it’s hard sometime, but it can be fun, and we are all in it together.
For all that Springsteen is a bona fide rock idol, there are no airs and graces, no attempt to blind us with science. Springsteen came on in a grey work shirt that got so soaked through with sweat that by the end it had turned black. That’s as close as he gets to special effects. At Hyde Park, he fell over twice clambering up and down the stairs from the stage to the crowd, joking, “Are you nuts? Get me a fucking elevator! I’m nearly 60!” Its hard to imagine any other superstar treating an embarrassing fall with such good humour.
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