“Hold tight to your anger, don’t fall to your fears.”
Monthly Archives: February 2012
Bruce Springsteen releases his new album Wrecking Ball March 6, and the transmedia promotional machine is in gear. His fan site Backstreets has been streaming tracks through Soundcloud all week. Next week will be Boss week at Late Night With Jimmy Fallon. Bruce will appear Monday night, there will be musical tributes to him all week, and he’ll take over the show Friday.
I love me some Bruce. He — and Patti, and the Clash, and others — kept me from thinking I was alone in the world when I was a teen. Darkness on the Edge of Town will probably always be my favorite record ever. The Ghost of Tom Joad channeled my fave book, The Grapes of Wrath, and dissed my pet peeve, Forrest Gump. He proved his guts with “41 Shots” and his heart with The Rising. I’ve seen him in concert umpteen times since 1981 — and I still have my concert jersey from that first show. I’m a jersey girl.
But … I’m apprehensive. The new songs seem so … shiny. Tunnel of Love production. Human Touch genericness. And Emmylou Harris already claimed the title. The content is vintage Springsteen socio-economic critique. But the heart? The soul?
Prove me wrong Bruce. Prove it all night, and you’ll keep my love.
I’m heading out to interview Kim Fowley and Snow Mercy, his latest protege, and I’m getting ready for the usual mix of outrage, vulgarity, and intelligence. Here’s something Kim told me last year, about the Runaways album Queens of Noise:
“I wanted vaginal teeth in the second album. I wanted guns in their hands. I wanted them to blow up the world and piss on rainbows and set up fire and stuff, and I wasn’t interested in doing a layered record for a bunch of assholes who are gonna still dislike them and still doubt them.”
According to Blabbermouth.net, Cherie Currie and Lita Ford are speaking again.
I tied really hard to be objective in reporting this. The Times asked me to help them out in their Grammys/Whitney pinch. This is the assignment I got handed. Tweeting was more fun.
It was a great honor to be part of the LA Times‘s Grammy Tweeters this evening. I was hard pressed to keep up with the wit of this crop of scribes.
I’ve been thinking a lot about fame lately, and how it seems to benefit the fan more than the artist. Case in point: The sad life, and now death, of Whitney Houston.