Asbury Park Press: Springsteen Concert Review

Boss breathes new life into old songs
Published in the Asbury Park Press 05/20/05
BY KELLY-JANE COTTER
MUSIC WRITER

Bruce Springsteen might be haunted by his own work.

You'd think an artist would consider himself lucky if a song resonates the first time around.
But not Springsteen. He returns to songs again and again, plugging in new variables, seeing if the equation still works.

On Thursday night, Springsteen presented his audience at Continental Airlines Arena in East Rutherford with a mix of the new and the new-and-improved.
The "Devils & Dust" tour — a solo, acoustic outing — has given Springsteen an opportunity to cast some familiar songs in a new setting.

"The River," for example, is certainly one of the best songs in his considerable repertoire. It's beautiful and gut-wrenching in its original form.
Yet Springsteen still needs to revisit it. Last night, "The River" had a different pull — still filled with sorrow but hazier, like a dull pain.

And nothing could prepare a fan for a diesel-fueled "Reason To Believe," barely recognizable under layers of ominous distortion.
Part psychotic blues, part industrial club music, the new version bruises the ears and muffles the optimism at the core of every Springsteen song.
It's certainly not the version you'd choose for everyday use, but it gets your attention, like fingernails on a blackboard.

Springsteen can also work the other way around, adding light to something dark. "Lonesome Day," a strong, sad rocker from "The Rising" album, takes on a jangly, rambling vibe on this tour.
It now sounds like a teenager out for a drive, stepping on the gas and fiddling with the radio in an effort to forget about the fight he just had with his dad.
Speaking of which, Springsteen has turned adolescent angst inside out as well. He now looks at it from a parent's perspective.
All the poignancy of parenthood comes through in "Long Time Coming," in which the narrator hopes and prays he won't mess up his kids' lives.

Springsteen introduced that song with a self-deprecating story about how his children see him.
For the first seven years of their lives, Springsteen said, he was infallible.
During the next seven, he said, he's become a "tolerable idiot" and a "silly man."
And when Springsteen argues with his son, a blast of loud music is sure to follow, from behind the son's bedroom door.
This, Springsteen acknowledges with a rueful laugh, is cyclical, and it makes him think about the times his own parents got on his nerves.

Everything gets turned upside down — family dynamics, familiar songs — and old lessons are learned in new ways.