Published on Apr 22, 2005
One of the many oddities I have noted over three decades as a
rock and roll fan is that a major artist’s harshest critics can
typically be located in the very midst of his or her quote-unquote
biggest fans. These are the twitchy, occasionally cringe-inducing
folks who know everything there is to know about “their” band, from
birthdays and shoes sizes to childhood friends and home addresses.
Seeking to fill up whatever empty spaces exist in their own lives
with the details of someone else’s, they can take possession over
their idols in a way that is both bizarre and sad.
One of the rallying cries of these hardliners is change. Change
is good only in that rare instance where it conforms with their
vision of their idol. Any other change is terrible; it violates the
bond between the artist and his most devoted fans and violates
their image of the thing they worship as immutable, immortal and
completely theirs.
If you think I’m exaggerating, you have not hung out with very
many Bruce Springsteen fans.
It’s actually kind of a miracle this album ever happened. In its
own way, it constituted an in-your-face declaration of independence
by the man himself from his most ardent, change-averse fans. They
were mad enough when Springsteen dismissed the entire E Street Band
in 1989 and recorded 1992’s dual offerings
Human Touch and
Lucky Town with session musicians. But to release a live
album that dares to feature an almost entirely new band walking in
the footsteps of the mighty E Streeters? Blasphemy! A hundred
lashes! Stone the infidels!
As the world surely knows by now, though, one of the privileges
of scoring one of the biggest-selling albums of all time and
following it with the highest-grossing tour of the decade is, if
you don’t blow the bucks on girls and dope, you can pretty much do
whatever you want for the rest of your career. If people don’t like
it, screw ’em.
That’s certainly the attitude Bruce took towards the whole
“unplugged” concept when MTV invited him to play a set for their
acoustic showcase. He keeps to format for exactly one song here —
his deliciously lascivious tribute to wife Patti Scialfa, “Red
Headed Woman” — before laughing, putting down his acoustic and
calling in the band.
As for said band, they aren’t the E Streeters, but they aren’t
half bad. Pianist Roy Bittan — along with Scialfa, the lone
holdover from E Street days — holds things together in his
unofficial capacity as musical director, and the group plays with
power and enthusiasm, if not always mastery. An early highlight is
“Darkness On The Edge Of Town,” rendered with all the customary
passion and embellished with background vocals from the band’s
five-woman, two-man chorus. (The star of that chorus being veteran
soul man Bobby King, featured on “Man’s Job” here as he was on
Human Touch.)
As one might expect, in this 1992 performance Springsteen
focuses on material from
Human Touch and
Lucky Town, mixing in just enough older material to keep the
diehards happy. To give the man credit where it’s due, his choices
from the sometimes spotty newer material are right on. “Better
Days” is an uplifting place to start — the background vocal chorus
works like a charm — and “Man’s Job,” “Human Touch,” “Lucky Town”
and others all receive faithful treatments.
The pick of the litter here, though, are the live versions of
three of the best songs from these too-often overlooked albums: “I
Wish I Were Blind,” “If I Should Fall Behind,” and “Living Proof.”
Only the second of these three has been played with any frequency
since the ’92-’93 tour, yet all three are gems that show off
Springsteen’s gift for imbuing his songs with genuine emotion.
The hardliners, of course, would have none of this, clamoring
ceaselessly for the return of the E Street unit they knew and
loved. And let’s face it, the unit captured on this album, talented
as it was, had an impossible job. Icons are not replaceable, least
of all icons as deserving of that status as the E Street Band.
In the end, Bruce stuck faithfully with his plan and this band
through the ’92-’93 tour, and played a lot of strong shows with
them. They earned this memento of their time in the sun. But when
it came time to record new material for Bruce’s 1995 greatest hits
collection, a bunch of familiar faces would return to the picture,
and the brief era chronicled on this album would officially be
over.