For our second piece in the Stations of the Boss series, artist Toby Wetland, has depicted the moment when Bruce was given his guitar to bear.
“Obviously,” says Wetland, this is not a historically accurate representation, as not only Max Weinberg’s son but Max himself would not have been on drums when Bruce received his first guitar. I chose this shot because it looked like his Tele is raining down from the heavens.”
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In February 2009 Rock Town Hall commissioned 14 artists from around the world to depict iconic scenes representing Bruce Springsteen’s ascendancy to the undisputed throne of rock. The Stations of the Boss initiative is an effort to shine a light on the frequently overlooked iconic projections of The Boss and His E Street Band. We know Him as a Humble Man, a Common Man, and a Man of the People, but too often the media and even his own handlers downplay the positively messianic effect His performances have on followers.
To help rectify these oversights we asked our artists to base their works on actual images from His performances. Our first Station in this series, Bruce Is Condemned to Rock, depicts the fateful 2008 Super Bowl performance, pictured above, that sealed Springsteen’s legacy.
Our artist, Toby Wetland, from Bonners Ferry, Idaho, USA, painted this scene in the style of Paul Gaugin‘s Jacob Wrestling with an Angel. “For years The Boss struggled with maintaining His identity within the group collective,” says Wetland. “Although He is clearly stunned by the ref’s judgment, I wanted the painting to hint at the comforting role His bandmates play in helping Him acccept His destiny as leader of the E Street Band and no other collection of musicians.”
The original work of art, Bruce Is Condemnned to Rock, follows the jump.
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To coincide with Bruce Springsteen‘s latest run of historic concert performances, Rock Town Hall will run a series of works of art commissioned specifically for Our Sacred Chapel of The Boss, located on the campus of RTH Labs. We hope that these images will aid you in praising Him and His E Street Band. At this time we ask you to cleanse your soul and prepare for the coming days’ blessings. Thank you.
I like The Boss a bit, but I generally can’t stand his long, romantic, working class-hero ballads: “Thunder Road,” “Sandy,” etc. When I saw Him and His E Street Band at the soon-to-be-demolished Spectrum in Philadelphia, on His tour supporting The River, I was strongly annoyed by most of the first 2 1/2 hours of his set, especially when he played the title track from his new release and all the Philly and South Jersey Boss fans in attendance stood on their seats and waved their lighters. Ugh.
Finally he played “Born to Run,” “Rosalita,” and that “Devil in a Blue Dress” medley. Finally the show was a lot of fun. For some reason, today, I was reminded of some fun Boss songs that never appeared on his real studio albums (if memory serves), like “Small Things (Big Things One Day Come)” (if that’s the actual title), and his versions of “Because the Night” and “Fire.” How much more would I have liked The Boss if he’d released more of that stuff, no matter how clunky it might have been produced, on his real albums rather than all those lighter waving make-out songs? The answer is At least a bit better. The more journeyman bar band songs by The Boss the better, as far as I’m concerned!
Do you have an artist you might like better if the unreleased and b-sides you’ve heard by said artist actually appeared on their studio albums instead of the more typical fare that never impressed you?
Some of you may recall my work in exposing the so-called Charlie Watts hoax. Considering that the beats on Stones records have long been among my favorite beats of all time, I’ve always been disappointed whenever I hear the Stones play these same songs live. It’s easy to point the finger at Mick Jagger for his shucking and jiving, which probably takes away from his already-limited ability to deliver the songs in his highly effective, super-cool, studio “head” voice, but I think Watts is the real culprit in the Stones rarely sounding – to me – like the supposed great live band that their vast team of publicists has spent 35 years promoting. The tempos are usually too slow, even by the standards of the original studio recordings. This breaks one of rock’s most important unwritten rules of live performance, that is, that tempos should be sped up by at least 20%. Watts rarely throws in the trademark fills that “he” has crafted on the studio recordings. For a band whose best work on record is driven by the drummer’s efficient beats (regardless of who the actual drummer might be), live Watts has to work his ass off to sound like your kid brother sitting in with your band on drums for a song or two before your real drummer shows up for rehearsal.
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What’s your feeling on between-song stage banter? I usually dread it, but every once in a while I see an artist who’s good at it. Richard Thompson‘s banter was highly entertaining when I saw him with a band in the late-80s. RTH contributor Rodney Anonymous from the Dead Milkmen used to talk like crazy, but he was like a punk rock George Carlin and his rants added to the energy of the band’s shows. I’ve seen Pere Ubu more than any other non-local band, and although David Thomas is usually awkward and miserable, he’s highly entertaining.
On the other hand, there’s Elvis Costello, who’s not bad but overstays his welcome. Most other performers mumble stuff half-heartedly, making me wish more bands would play nonstop segues like The Ramones. Then there’s Bruce. His long, corny raps about his Dad at the breakfast table, giving him hell for his long hair and rock ‘n roll are cherished by his fans, but when I saw him live in 1980, they almost single-handedly threatened to ruin what little I enjoyed about the show. The Boss is also big on the rah-rah stuff, the “Hello Cleveland!” incantations. It all reminds me of some of the reasons I don’t attend any kind of church.
As I said, I don’t dislike all between-song banter and I’d love to recount a specific story that made the concert experience better than it already was. However, I’m not one of those guys who can recite quotes from favorite movies that I’ve seen a dozen times, so I’m definitely not one of those guys who can recount a particularly good piece of between-song banter. But I’ve heard more than a few of you spit back Monty Python routines and the like. I’m sure you’ve got a particularly good and/or bad stage-banter experience to recount.
I look forward to your thoughts.
Mad props to one of our basement dwellers for passing this along: The Boss blogs on his Super Bowl Halftime Show extravaganza. I can’t get enough of this side of The Boss. This is The Boss being The Boss! Don’t you wanna roll with Him and the E Street Band? Sometimes I do.
During “Tenth Avenue” I tell the story of my band…and other things “when the change was made uptown”…. It goes rushing by, then the knee slide. Too much adrenalin, a late drop, too much speed, here I come Mike…BOOM! And I’m onto his camera, the lens implanted into my chest with one leg off the stage. I use his camera to push myself back up and…say it, say it, say it, say it…BLAM! BORN TO RUN…my story…Something bright and hot blows up behind me. I heard there were fireworks. I never saw any. Just the ones going off in my head. I’m out of breath. I try to slow it down. That ain’t gonna happen. I already hear the crowd singing the last eight bars of “Born to Run” oh, oh, oh, oh…then it’s straight into “Working on a Dream”…your story…and mine I hope. Steve is on my right, Patti on my left. I catch a smile and the wonderful choir, The Joyce Garrett Singers, that backed me in Washington during the Inaugural concert is behind us. I turn to see their faces and listen to the sound of their voices…”working on a dream”. Done. Moments later, we’re ripping straight into “Glory Days”…the end of the story.
As an added bonus, I learned the name of the African American Robed Choir backing Bossman. Thanks for sharing, bro!
