“Road Diary”: https://t.ly/7Zv8T

1

The highlight was “Nightshift,” the Commodores sans Lionel Richie number that speaks of what’s goin’ on with the recently passed Jackie Wilson and Marvin Gaye and the great music they’re playing up in heaven.

Now what struck me, what made such a big impression, is that I’ve never ever heard any rocker speak of this late soul nugget, never mind sing it. Not that I’m a Commodores expert, far from it, but “Nightshift” was a hit in 1985, when MTV engendered new Top Forty stations on FM radio, traditionally the bastion of AOR, the white rockers. And pushing the buttons on the Blaupunkt, I heard it, and liked it, it was a personal favorite. And when someone else loves one of your favorites, you feel good.

But the rest of the documentary is pure hagiography.

“Hagiography: the writing of the lives of saints.”

New Oxford American Dictionary

And the funny thing is all the commentary said otherwise. That this was the story of what Bruce had been going through, dealing with Patti’s illness, that you got to know the real Bruce.

Hogwash.

However the end, where Bruce ruminates on the death of an old bandmate, when he sings that he’s the last man standing from that band…that’s great, that’s what I wanted more of, elder rocker in context.

Otherwise, it was frozen in time. Could have been 1984, never mind 2024.

You watch this documentary and wince, it makes you feel that rock and roll is over.

I know, I know, now you’ve got your knickers in a twist. Just like the cats all over the world blowing back about my article re closing unprofitable clubs. You can’t challenge orthodoxy. If you do, you’re a pariah.

And that’s why Kamala Harris lost. The world had changed, but the Democratic party had not. They were totally oblivious.

Springsteen sticks out like a sore thumb, it’s pure nostalgia, it’s almost creepy.

Oh, by the end you’re in the mood, you’re in the groove. I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy a Springsteen show, I’m just saying it’s MEANINGLESS!

Rock used to represent danger, pushing the envelope. This is all about giving the public what it wants. A brain dead adoring audience. Akin to the Deadheads. What I say about both of these acts is I don’t hate the performers, I hate their fans.

Because the fans are like the Democrats. There’s unquestioning devotion, and if you don’t agree, you’re stupid.

Now Bruce tried to break free in the nineties. Canning the band and working with new players. And I’ve got to tell you, the cut “Human Touch” is one of my all time favorites from the man from the Jersey Shore.

But the public rejected it.

Sure, there were two albums released simultaneously. But mostly, they yearned for the E Street Band. Can’t we go back to where we once belonged, can’t everybody just get along?

Nope.

Time only marches in one direction. Not that there’s an inherent flaw in nostalgia, and that’s one of the flaws of MAGAworld, the false belief that there was a golden era in the past that we can return to, but the truth is we’re always looking for something new and exciting. And the greats don’t get stuck in their personas, they evolve.

Whether the audience stays along for the ride or not.

Bowie was out in the wilderness before he reconnected with “Let’s Dance.” And then he went BACK into the wilderness. Because it had to be interesting to him.

Ditto Neil Young.

Bob Dylan? He doesn’t seem to care what you think, he’s just going to do it his way.

But if you go to a Bruce Springsteen show you know exactly what you’re going to get, which may be the attraction, but that’s not the essence of rock and roll.

2

Haven’t we learned that the public connects, your image is enhanced, when you reveal your warts? I’d posit the Metallica movie “Some Kind of Monster” cemented the band’s place in the pantheon forever. Underground metal band breaks through to huge mainstream success and then…reveals it’s all f*cked up and is having trouble staying together. This we can relate to. Substance abuse, divorce. James Hetfield is still a rock star, but he’s also human, not purely iconic.

This film could have contained all those elements. Hell, there was low hanging fruit. How did Bruce decide to sell his rights to Sony? How does he feel about his kids…growing up, leaving the house, making their own way, inheriting his assets? How does he cope with Patti’s diagnosis? What responsibilities does he feel he has to her, to us?

But no, we’ve got arena rocker on a pedestal creating the set list of a lifetime while everybody who’s ever worked for him says what a god he is. What’s interesting about that? Not much. As for the performance footage, mostly in rehearsal…there’s a reason performance films have never resonated in the marketplace, they’re absent the key elements of a live show, you can’t feel it, you can’t smell it, you’re not involved in it.

Meanwhile, Bruce is singing about the same damn things he did in his twenties. And he’s lost when it comes to new material. Who gives a sh*t about “Mary’s Place.” Not that we need broad statements. We don’t need solutions to world affairs, we want the personal, we’re all people, including Bruce, what’s it like to be on the planet?

3

So I don’t see a future for rock and roll. Old people can’t sing about teenage life, adolescent romance, and young people don’t want to play rock.

Hell, we went through this once before, and the result was punk.

But then punk became a caricature of itself.

But it turned out Kurt Cobain could write great songs, irrelevant of the style in which they were performed, and Green Day could create catchy tunes with meaning and…

Now all we’ve got is smiling Dave Grohl. I can sleep in peace around Dave, he’s not going to steal my money or my car, whereas I’ve been around musicians that demand you keep one eye open, or…they might have too many beers and then lord knows what will happen.

Sure, I write a lot about old songs and how they resonate. But in truth, it’s always the new things that resonate most. The new and different is always more satisfying than the old and comfortable. And once you step out of your comfort zone, possibilities open up, there are new avenues to explore, whereas when you’re stuck in a rut…

Rock is stuck in a rut.

4

So I’m Debbie Downer. Sorry.

But I know it when I see it, when I hear it. And I’m always looking for it.

Everybody’s cutting everybody a break, everybody’s afraid to offend anybody. Then again, Donald Trump is more rock than the rock stars. The image of rockers was built on lies. Half the stories that are legend never happened. I didn’t want him elected, but I’ve got to say, Trump was so out of control the past few weeks that it was an amazing movie to watch. And the funny thing is people bought it! Just like they bought the rock stars of yore. They didn’t scratch their heads and wonder…if there are no taxes on tips, no taxes on social security, and my tax rate goes down…HOW EXACTLY DOES THAT WORK?

They bought the myth, the image.

Then again, Trump was three-dimensional, unlike Kamala, who was presented in 2-D.

Springsteen is 2-D in “Road Diary.” Massaged, handled, you learn almost nothing. You’re presented with a hard-working saint, someone who is better than us who must be adored.

Oh, don’t make me whip out my bona fides. I saw Bruce at the Bottom Line in 1974, the year before “Born to Run,” when the “Jungleland” he played had not yet been released on wax. I played “Candy’s Room” at full volume on my first date with my ex-wife. I told all those women in the AOL chat rooms I was looking for the human touch.

But I can question my heroes.

Bruce has been subsumed by his image. And his handlers are keeping him from reality.

There’s a business in delivering the old hits.

But it doesn’t change the world.

And once rock did.

Once Bruce Springsteen did. An album of demos that was mastered from a cassette? “Nebraska” was a risk, there’s no risk in “Road Diary,” and no buzz either, because who other than diehard fans needs to see it, and even they don’t need to see it. Why even put it out? We’re looking for art, not commerce.

Kitty is definitely not back in “Road Diary.”

But we’re still waiting for her to reappear.

But in this movie Bruce ain’t giving us much hope.

And he’s one of the last people standing.

I need to believe, I’m looking for belief, I’m looking for something new and different that touches my soul, illuminates the path forward.

And “Road Diary” ain’t it.