‘Springsteen On Broadway’ Is A Master Class In The Art Of Performance

What’s a baby boomer rock star to do as they enter retirement age? For many musicians of the ’60s and ’70s, most of whom are now in their 60s and 70s, the choices are thus;

A. Retire and write a memoir.
B. Retire after a long (perhaps never-ending) “Farewell Tour.”
C. Move to Las Vegas and play a couple nights a week at a casino between rounds of golf.
D. Carry on like you’re still the greatest rock n’ roll band in the world (in other words, you’re a member of The Rolling Stones).

For Bruce Springsteen the answer is Broadway. Thankfully, that doesn’t mean writing a musical based on his songs (which I guess should have been “E” in the above list) but, instead, performing a one-man show on “The Great White Way.” What was originally supposed to be an eight-week residency at the Walter Kerr Theatre starting in October 2017 was expanded to over a year of dates. His final performance was last night, and to mark the occasion, the concert film Springsteen on Broadway premiered on Netflix hours after the last curtain call.

To his fans, Springsteen is “The Boss,” poet laureate of the Jersey Turnpike, singing songs of backstreet Romeos and blue collar Rosalitas and delivering marathon-length concerts where his audience is sanctified in the burning waters of rock n’ roll. For those acolytes of “The E Street Shuffle,” Springsteen on Broadway will be manna from heaven; however, even if you’re not a devotee, there is much to recommend here. Over the course of 2 and a half hours, the singer-songwriter delivers a master class in the art of performance, teaching though lesson and example, explaining his “magic trick” and showing how it’s done.

Looking not unlike an aging drill sergeant with his overdyed black crewcut and chiseled grill, Springsteen purposefully paces about the stage, alternating between acoustic guitar and piano, sometimes donning one of those strap-on harmonicas that look dorky no matter how cool the wearer may be. Part of his shtick, however, has always been his t-shirt and blue jeans everyman persona. Normal guys aren’t cool, they’re real. Which is cool in and of itself. But as Bruce tells us at the show’s outset, he is “tinged with fraud.”

Now 69, Springsteen would be retired now had he been one of the factory workers or highway patrolmen he sings about. Halfway through his opening number, “Growin’ Up” (off his 1973 debut), he launches into a hilarious rap, saying, “I’ve never held an honest job in my entire life. I’ve never done any hard labor…standing before you is a man who has become wildly and absurdly successful writing about something of which he has absolutely no personal experience. I made it all up,” he admits to laughter and applause.

With a combination of tale tales, one liners, poetic flights of fancy, and some pretty excellent singing, guitar picking and songwriting, Springsteen pulls you in. He alternates between rumination and celebration, his dual nature a by-product of his parents: his father, a hard-working and hard drinking man he calls “my hero and my greatest foe,” and his mother, a “dancing machine,” who saw the good in everyone. We trace his steps from being a 7-year-old rock n’ roll fan posing with a guitar he doesn’t know how to play, to being a 23-year-old musician entertaining “murderers and maniacs” living in “Jeserkhistan,” to being a rock star unable to communicate with Vietnam War veterans that made sacrifices he did his best to avoid.

Bruce tries to exorcise the ghosts of his past, poignantly remembering fallen friends, discussing his mother’s Alzheimer’s Disease, and his reconciliation with his father, a story which fills his eyes with tears. Though Springsteen on Broadway has the feel of once in a lifetime performance, it was actually filmed over two nights, and for the duration of his Broadway run, he was performing five nights a week. It’s safe to say, few moments were spontaneous after the first week of performances, however, as Bruce warns us in the beginning, “That’s how good I am.”

In telling his story, Springsteen draws from his entire career, each song accentuating a moment in his life. Towards the end he gets political, quoting Martin Luther King and calling out President Donald Trump in all but name before launching into the grave “The Ghost of Tom Joad” and the ebullient “The Rising.” Again, darkness and light. Throughout the performance, Springsteen often seems like a country preacher delivering a sermon, and even recites “The Lord’s Prayer,” before breaking into the expected final encore: “Born To Run.” It ends with Springsteen tapping out the last few chords, a gentle repass from the furious strumming that preceded it, sounding like a heartbeat in a quiet room. Then the lights come up and he takes a bow.

Benjamin H. Smith is a New York based writer, producer and musician. Follow him on Twitter:@BHSmithNYC

Watch Springsteen on Broadway on Netflix