Deliberately in motion

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Best live albums (part 1)

The other day I wrote a review/reflection about Springsteen on Broadway, and in it I've mentioned my favorite live albums.  I have mentioned Nirvana- MTV Unplugged in New York as being number one, followed by David Bowie and his live album released as a part of The best of BBC Radio sessions bonus disc.  In the third place I placed Springsteen on Broadway.

I thought to expend on the first two.

I was a huge fan of Nirvana when I was a teenager.  To this day, although I don't listen to it that often, Nevermind can be only played at very high volume, which happens in my car while commuting to or back from work (my wife would simply unplug and throw out my stereo system if I did it at home).  The energy and relentless beat of the percussion, the rough sound of a guitar, as well as Cobain’s voice snatched my attention, and wouldn’t let it go for quite few years.  Whenever I’ve met somebody new, one of the first questions asked was “Who’s your favorite band?”.   The answer would always tell you if that person was worth hanging out with.  

MTV Unplugged in New York, was the first “calm” album that I’ve listened to.  Just as with Nevermind,  it was a revelation.  Songs that I knew by heart were arranged and sung with different kind of emotion and intensity, but with the same importance.  It made me realize that music didn’t have to be angry, or that… I wasn’t angry anymore.  

These days I listen to Unplugged as much as to Nevermind.  Both albums are the same, but at the same time different in intensity.  

If I have to be honest, I prefer Unplugged now, but I guess it comes with age.  I’m no longer rebellious, although I like to fool myself into thinking that I still am.  

I like to drink my wine out of the glass while sitting in my armchair, wearing pajamas, and writing paragraphs, than straight out of the bottle on the rainy Friday night, with my Martens half laced up, ready to join a mosh pit.  

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Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays

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The empathy of Springsteen on Broadway

I have never been a big fan of Bruce Springsteen, as a matter of fact I have never been a fan of his until about four years ago when I decided to finally listen to one of his albums entitled “The River”.  As a person who was born in 1980 it seemed nostalgic to listen to that album because of its original release date.

I was born in Poland when it was still under the communist regime, and my exposure to western music was very limited.  However I was lucky enough not to remember much of realities of that time.  I was still very young when it all changed in 1989.  The iron curtain fell, and it was brave new world for all of us.  To make a long story short, my first exposure to Bruce Springsteen and his music was when I’ve heard “Born in the U.S.A” … and it seemed like another propaganda piece, but this time it “freely” came from the west instead of east.  Don’t get me wrong, we kids all loved Rocky IV, and american movies and music.  I guess, when it came to Bruce and his music,  I was too young, and ignorant to understand/relate to the stories and emotions embedded to his art.  

Then the nineties arrived, and grunge swept me off my feet.   As a teenager with all the hormones and anger raging inside, I loved Nirvana, the intensity and fuck you- attitude of their music.  Especially  when it felt real, unlike the pompous, manufactured music of all those hair bands that came before it.   I think that in a way, I’ve put Springsteen in the same compartment as Warrant, Poison or so many similar bands (Bon Jovi? ;)

With “Streets of Philadelphia” he got my attention.  I was thirteen at the time, but I loved the haunting lyrics (translated by a friend who could speak the language), and that background, relentlessly dark synth sound… awesome.  

Bruce Springsteen deserved my attention, and I knew that I had to, at least, listen to one of his albums… but Nirvana, Pearl Jam, STP, Smashing Pumpkins and their music were the masters of my musical life.  Then as time went by, and my musical journey progressed, I went back and surrendered my attention to the likes of Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, The Doors… especially The Doors.  Then even little further in time, listening to B.B King, Buddy Guy, Chuck Berry…

Music is like a big tree with branches sprawling in all directions,  you can listen to a band, but then you find out that they were influenced by someone else’s music… so you follow it down the rabbit hole, further and further.

My father died when I was sixteen years old.  I felt ashamed that when he was still alive I preferred to spend time with my friends, listening to music, or wandering aimlessly for long, long hours throughout my town.  Sleeping at abandoned shed by the river, anywhere and anything but going home.  He was a good father, but with problems that, I’ve stupidly thought, tarnished his superman persona.  My original idol was flawed...and I couldn’t comprehend, I couldn’t realize that it was my way of thinking which was flawed.  

After his death my musical world swirled around Portishead, Massive Attack, Tricky… then Marilyn Manson, Korn, System of a Down.  It took a long time until I was ready to listen to any other genre.  

After all this, you might think, where does Springsteen’s music enter?

It does with my first boyish love.   

It was Saturday night.  Me and my friends as always were out on a town.  Hitting all the “cool” spots, and then ending up at this house party where you were “the man” if you showed up with any kind of liquor.   It was mostly vodka… because of Poland :)

So we’re there doing shots without anything to chase it with, the music was swirling in the air, and then she walked in and started a conversation.  It seemed so natural to talk to her, so smooth and easy.   I knew her for some time now, but always treated her as a friend only.  

Later on that night me and two of my cousins have walked her and few other girls home, and the whole world changed.  It pulsated with this new energy.

I came back home, and turned on the radio.  I turned the volume to the lowest setting because it was late at night, and with my ear by the single speaker I’ve heard

“Hey little girl, is your daddy home?”

He sang longingly

“I got a bad desire,

Oh, oh, oh I’m on fire”

I’m thirty four, and my life have changed a lot.  I left Poland when still a teenager.  Living an “undocumented thriller” of a life in the USA.  I made few friends in high school, but couldn’t really socialize, because every weekend or holiday, I’ve spent working construction to earn some money and save it for future college education… One associate degree, one green card, and many years later I still work construction, but over time my whole worldview have changed.  I guess it’s part of growing up, you forget about things that made you happy , make new priorities, change desires, make them more imminent.  The music however is still with me. I still listen to it constantly… but I’ve never truly learned how to play guitar, or any instrument… one of these days...maybe…

One day, driving back home, I’ve started a new playlist on my Pandora app (I think that when it comes to generated playlists, Pandora it’s hands down better than any other streaming service).  I’ve listened to the music of the 80’s… I don’t know why I did it,  I’ve always thought that the 80’s were terrible music wise.  Twenty minutes in, I’ve heard “My hometown”.  It caught me by surprise, I’ve listened to the lyrics, the notes… and it took me back to my youth, to my long forgotten hometown in Poland.  Later on that night I played “The River” in its entirety.  It was so simply powerful.

Thirty eight years old, with wife and three kids.  House, and all that comes with it, established position in the company that I work for, two cars, and zero time for myself.  

I found out that Springsteen will do Broadway show.  The idea of seeing him in such intimate setting of a relatively small venue, was appealing.  I could spend some reasonable amount of money  for tickets, but I was unlucky to get them.  Oh well…

It’s 5:20 in the morning.  Friday.  I get in my car, and pull out of my driveway.  Go to a local coffee place to jump start the morning.  I check the weather on my smartphone while waiting in short line, then see all new music releases available to stream on my drive to work.

Springsteen on Broadway was one of the new albums available.  I’ve paid for my coffee, got in the car, hit play… and couldn’t stop the wave of emotions.  Nostalgia, sadness, regret, happiness, hope, love.  All this while driving south on New Jersey turnpike.  

Until this day I only had two favorite live albums.

First and always is Nirvana - MTV Unplugged in New York

Second - David Bowie with its live album originally released as part of three disk set - Portland BBC Radio Theatre

Now Bruce Springsteen joins that club.  

It was his music that I have played that same evening to my wife, and Sunday, when we’ve put our kids to sleep, we’ve watched the filmed version of the show.  

At one point Bruce says that he wrote songs about things that he absolutely head zero knowledge about.  Factories, five days a week job, and such, but was it really so?

All great art gets enhanced, and in the process, changed by the audience.  We add our own past experiences to the words, the sounds of the song, even if we’ve never worked in a factory, but we all, most of us were in love, were happy, sad, or desperate.  Nature of our work is just a background of a universal story.  Springsteen’s words and music tapped into, and amplified that.

When he spoke about him climbing that neighborhood tree, I climbed similar one, but not in Jersey, but in Poland.  When he spoke about his father, I thought about and missed mine, regretting moments lost.  When he spoke about dreams of the future, it rushed me back in time to my teenage idealistic self with grand expectations about the world.  When he spoke about him having a moment with his father, their reconciliation, and lesson learned from it, made me think about my own role in my children’s lives.  

Bruce doesn’t write about tangible things, he writes about feelings that we can relate to and compound upon.  The empathy that comes with his music surrounds us, and it’s so intimate that it only can be described as Life… Art…

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