Parke Puterbaugh, Special to Go Triad
(Thursday, July 28, 2005 9:37 am)
The Greensboro News & Record
Bruce Springsteen gave concertgoers a rare chance to hear him in an intimate, unaccompanied setting when he brought his "solo acoustic tour" — only the second such outing of his career — to the Greensboro Coliseum on Tuesday night. It didn't sell out like his last show here in 2003, when he had the E Street Band in tow, but then no one expected it to. This evening was definitely intended for more serious devotees who could appreciate the stripped-down format and the unvarnished glimpses it gave into the artist and his songs. More superficial fans who came expecting Springsteen to rock out surely left disappointed. Those who were willing to look a little deeper were rewarded with a soul-baring performance and a glimpse at another side of this multifaceted artist.
The stage was bare except for a couple of modest candelabras, a Tiffany lamp and, of course, the instruments he played. Springsteen rotated among acoustic guitars (two Takamines and a Gibson), electric piano and a pump organ. The ghostly pump organ was the instrument with which he began ("If I Should Fall Behind") and ended ("Dream Baby Dream") the 21/2 -hour show.
This was a far cry from the Bruce Springsteen of "Born in the U.S.A." and "Hungry Heart." Many of the songs he performed ended with an unearthly, melismatic wail, as if he were channeling an existential pain beyond words. He sang dark, gripping narratives such as "The Hitter" (a boxer's beaten-down blues) and "Matamoros Banks" (an immigrant's tale, wherein hope turns to tragedy). "Reason to Believe" (from "Nebraska") was drastically recast as a raw streetcorner blues, as Tom Waits might have attacked it. "Part Man, Part Monkey" also had a deliberately coarse, bluesy edge. Springsteen added some barbed commentary on how the theory of evolution has come under fire from regressive elements on the religious right: "We've come a long way, baby…and we're going back."
The overall primacy of words over music on this evening was most evident in "Galveston Bay," a story of misbegotten nationalism and murder told in many verses with scant musical elaboration. "Reno," a tale of sex-for-hire, ached with an unfulfilling emptiness in Springsteen's spectral reading.
No, this was not an "up" kind of evening, and breaks in the clouds were few. "Devils & Dust," the title song from his latest CD, came early in the show and set the tone for the evening. Performed acoustically, "The Rising" came off more like a supplication than a celebration. "Darkness On the Edge of Town" seemed more forlorn and foreboding than ever. "Lonesome Day" evoked the hollow, horrific aftermath for those who lost loved ones in the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.
Only "Waitin' On a Sunny Day," which the crowd picked up and turned into a sing-along, had a cautiously hopeful spark. What levity there was came during Springsteen's between-song chatter. He spoke wittily about parenthood as a lead-in to "Long Time Comin'" and riffed on his Catholic upbringing and wrestling into adulthood with the lengthy tentacles of the church before turning serious. "The choices we make are given weight and meaning by the things we give up," he reflected as a prelude to "Jesus Was an Only Son."
The crowd listened raptly to the show, and you could've heard a pin drop through much of it. Springsteen was obviously appreciative of their respectful attention. It was, to be quite honest, not an easy or conventionally entertaining performance, but one that was rewarding precisely because it reached so deeply. My only quibble had to do with the price of tickets, which at $75 and $85 excluded a lot of devoted but cash-strapped fans who would've loved to have been there. Having 15,000 people singing along to "Waitin' On a Sunny Day" would've been even more amazing.
Parke Puterbaugh is a Greensboro-based freelance music writer.
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