Spring Break
Springsteen, New Jersey continue to be overrated
Hilary Brady
Issue date: 2/4/09 Section: Editorial/Opinion
02/04/09 - For a state that's most recognized for our governor's same sex affairs at Parkway rest stops and Zach Braff's two hour love letter to The Shins, we New Jersians generally have a lot to be proud of in Bruce Springsteen.
It's not quite a running joke that everyone in Jersey knows someone who knows someone who has met Bruce Springsteen. I have had AP Literature teachers who have stood behind him in line for pizza at the Jersey shore. I have had friends who ran into him (almost literally, atop an equestrian horse,) while he tried to fix a complicated, expensive camera in a local barn. I have known friends of friends who have been singing "Born to Run" on their iPods, only to have the man himself compliment their vocal styling.
New Jersey housewives, dragging along elaborately costumed (and reluctant) children, have even flocked to his house on Halloween in hopes of receiving a Fun-Sized Three Musketeers bar from "The Boss" himself. This past October, in fear of children being lost or crushed in the mass of hormonal middle-aged women, Bruce had to shut the production down.
So, it's not surprising that we were all looking forward to the Superbowl half time show. Bruce promised us all a "twelve-minute party." What we got, however, was an awkward performance that included more stage sliding than I ever needed to see.
He started out strong with "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out," but his vocals and the tight performance of the E Street Band were dragged down by the klutzy, and (dare I say it?) cheesy showmanship.
There was the jumping around on the piano that looked like it took him a little more effort than it should have. There was the slide across stage that brought him crotch-level to the camera, which no one but that spastic 40-something fan in the front row really appreciated. There was the backbend at the microphone that looked like it would result in an emergency call to a chiropractor. Then, there was the referee signaling "boss time."
It's not quite a running joke that everyone in Jersey knows someone who knows someone who has met Bruce Springsteen. I have had AP Literature teachers who have stood behind him in line for pizza at the Jersey shore. I have had friends who ran into him (almost literally, atop an equestrian horse,) while he tried to fix a complicated, expensive camera in a local barn. I have known friends of friends who have been singing "Born to Run" on their iPods, only to have the man himself compliment their vocal styling.
New Jersey housewives, dragging along elaborately costumed (and reluctant) children, have even flocked to his house on Halloween in hopes of receiving a Fun-Sized Three Musketeers bar from "The Boss" himself. This past October, in fear of children being lost or crushed in the mass of hormonal middle-aged women, Bruce had to shut the production down.
So, it's not surprising that we were all looking forward to the Superbowl half time show. Bruce promised us all a "twelve-minute party." What we got, however, was an awkward performance that included more stage sliding than I ever needed to see.
He started out strong with "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out," but his vocals and the tight performance of the E Street Band were dragged down by the klutzy, and (dare I say it?) cheesy showmanship.
There was the jumping around on the piano that looked like it took him a little more effort than it should have. There was the slide across stage that brought him crotch-level to the camera, which no one but that spastic 40-something fan in the front row really appreciated. There was the backbend at the microphone that looked like it would result in an emergency call to a chiropractor. Then, there was the referee signaling "boss time."
