chrisjoseph
12-28-2006, 09:02 PM
The Boss makes music event of 2006
Wade Tatangelo, features writer/music critic, can be reached at 745-7051 or wtatangelo@HeraldToday.com. His blog, "In Tune with Wade," can be found at http://blogs.bradenton.com.
I was going to take a stab at humor and comment on the hottest songs of 2006. My final column of the year was going to be light and fun. But then my mind returned to that steamy afternoon in the mud and I figured I could do you one better - or at least offer something meatier.
A concert performance rarely captures the outrage of the populace while simultaneously sending a message of hope. When Jimi Hendrix stepped on stage at Woodstock during the height of the Vietnam War in 1969 he recast "The Star-Spangled Banner" as a cry of protest and a plea for peace. Hendrix created a sonic touchstone for a grieving generation. Bruce Springsteen accomplished a similar feat when he performed at this year's New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival on June 30.
The Boss was dressed in black. He was backed by about two dozen musicians playing everything from fiddles and banjos to horns and accordion. It was a sound unlike anything Springsteen had done before. But his repertoire of mostly traditional songs popularized by Pete Seeger easily elated the congregation of about 80,000 who danced and occasionally fell into the field of soaked earth that surrounded the giant stage.
But one song was for the ages. When I was doing reserach for this column I came across a perfect video of the performance posted at YouTube.com (Search: springsteen poor man new orleans). Watching it again I was instantly transported back to New Orleans and that singular Sunday that sent chills up my spine.
Springsteen stepped to the microphone and nervously strummed his acoustic guitar. He told the crowd that he spent the day touring their most devestated neighborhoods.
"I saw sights I thought I would never see in an American city," Springsteen said. "The criminal ineptitude makes you furious. This is what happens when political cronyism guts the very agencies that are suppose to serve American citizens in times of trial and hardship. This is what happens when people play political games with peoples' lives."
The crowd erupted in outbursts of approval.
Springsteen went on to say that he was about to perform a song written a week after the stock market crashed in 1929. He explained that he kept the first verse the same and wrote three new verses for the people of New Orleans. He then let out a laugh of frustration and dedicated the song to "President Bystander."
"How can a poor man stand such times and live?" Springsteen asked before starting the song.
He then launched into the first verse in which a smiling doctor goes around offering nothing but "a dose of dope and a great big bill." A gospel choir soared behind Springsteen as he belt out the refrain: "How can a poor man stand such times as these?"
I was neck deep in a sea of smiles. Strangers embraced and the crowd cheered in a way I had never before witnessed. It was like I was inside the world's largest gospel tent. "How can a poor man stand such times as these?" became even more momentous during the three verses that Springsteen wrote.
"There's bodies floating on Canal and the levee's gone to hell," Springsteen snarled. "Them who got, got out of town and them who ain't got drowned."
Springsteen was channeling the strengths of Walt Whitman, Woody Guthrie and Martin Luther King, Jr, that day in New Orleans. It was beautiful. Popular music had been rendered holy and spirits were lifted.
Springsteen's entire performance was professionally video taped. I also spotted a camera crew shooting footage of the crowd. Hopefully a documentary along the lines of "Woodstock" will be issued in the near future. That performance deserves to be preserved for generations to come - men and women who will undoubtedly need the kind of music that can touch a person's soul.
Wade Tatangelo, features writer/music critic, can be reached at 745-7051 or wtatangelo@HeraldToday.com. His blog, "In Tune with Wade," can be found at http://blogs.bradenton.com.
I was going to take a stab at humor and comment on the hottest songs of 2006. My final column of the year was going to be light and fun. But then my mind returned to that steamy afternoon in the mud and I figured I could do you one better - or at least offer something meatier.
A concert performance rarely captures the outrage of the populace while simultaneously sending a message of hope. When Jimi Hendrix stepped on stage at Woodstock during the height of the Vietnam War in 1969 he recast "The Star-Spangled Banner" as a cry of protest and a plea for peace. Hendrix created a sonic touchstone for a grieving generation. Bruce Springsteen accomplished a similar feat when he performed at this year's New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival on June 30.
The Boss was dressed in black. He was backed by about two dozen musicians playing everything from fiddles and banjos to horns and accordion. It was a sound unlike anything Springsteen had done before. But his repertoire of mostly traditional songs popularized by Pete Seeger easily elated the congregation of about 80,000 who danced and occasionally fell into the field of soaked earth that surrounded the giant stage.
But one song was for the ages. When I was doing reserach for this column I came across a perfect video of the performance posted at YouTube.com (Search: springsteen poor man new orleans). Watching it again I was instantly transported back to New Orleans and that singular Sunday that sent chills up my spine.
Springsteen stepped to the microphone and nervously strummed his acoustic guitar. He told the crowd that he spent the day touring their most devestated neighborhoods.
"I saw sights I thought I would never see in an American city," Springsteen said. "The criminal ineptitude makes you furious. This is what happens when political cronyism guts the very agencies that are suppose to serve American citizens in times of trial and hardship. This is what happens when people play political games with peoples' lives."
The crowd erupted in outbursts of approval.
Springsteen went on to say that he was about to perform a song written a week after the stock market crashed in 1929. He explained that he kept the first verse the same and wrote three new verses for the people of New Orleans. He then let out a laugh of frustration and dedicated the song to "President Bystander."
"How can a poor man stand such times and live?" Springsteen asked before starting the song.
He then launched into the first verse in which a smiling doctor goes around offering nothing but "a dose of dope and a great big bill." A gospel choir soared behind Springsteen as he belt out the refrain: "How can a poor man stand such times as these?"
I was neck deep in a sea of smiles. Strangers embraced and the crowd cheered in a way I had never before witnessed. It was like I was inside the world's largest gospel tent. "How can a poor man stand such times as these?" became even more momentous during the three verses that Springsteen wrote.
"There's bodies floating on Canal and the levee's gone to hell," Springsteen snarled. "Them who got, got out of town and them who ain't got drowned."
Springsteen was channeling the strengths of Walt Whitman, Woody Guthrie and Martin Luther King, Jr, that day in New Orleans. It was beautiful. Popular music had been rendered holy and spirits were lifted.
Springsteen's entire performance was professionally video taped. I also spotted a camera crew shooting footage of the crowd. Hopefully a documentary along the lines of "Woodstock" will be issued in the near future. That performance deserves to be preserved for generations to come - men and women who will undoubtedly need the kind of music that can touch a person's soul.