Going to the Matt

For the life of me I don’t understand why YouTube isn’t called RabbitHole. I can’t tell you how many of them I’ve gone down late into the night when sleep seems to have lost my address.

Well, I could tell you but it’d just be embarrassing. Although if you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you know embarrassing isn’t necessarily a dealbreaker.

Anyway, I was going to do a post about my favorite song in the world by a certain gravel-voiced singer from New Jersey, Thunder Road. And I was going to include several versions of it like I’ve done in the past for songs like Tracks of My Tears, Unchained Melody and I Can't Make You Love Me.

That’s when I came across a TR cover by Matt Nathanson.

I’m not particularly fond of Springsteen covers, but Matt Nathanson’s version grabbed me immediately. In the video, there’s a bit of a preamble to the song that showed me humor, and then heart, with a voice that’s as emotional as it is enjoyable.

Buckle up, down the rabbithole I go.

His song Used To Be hits home hard, as does the winsome Blush. Besides, how can you not like a singer with a song where the first line is “I fell asleep, had a dream Bill Murray and I were friends….” I know, right?

Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you that I’m a talented writer and good looking, but could stand to lose a few pounds. Wait, I may have gotten off point there. What I meant was they’ll let you know when I find a song or a singer I like, I play them into oblivion until I have to take a break from them for a while.

Honestly, I just don’t see that happening with Matt Nathanson. He’s one of those singers you can’t help but wonder why he’s not a bigger star, and why his songs aren’t playing everywhere.

See what I mean. Have a look and a listen.

Camera ready

Now that we're seven months into the new Zoomconomy™, there are more things to think about than ever before.

Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Wipe down the deliveries. Remember to social distance (I work in ad agencies - I've been doing that for years). But now, there's one more thing to pile on the to-do list in the new world order.

Dressing my room for Zoom.

Like most people I know, I'll be working remotely from home for the foreseeable future. So I planted a flag and claimed a small yet comfortable space to set up shop in my bedroom. The wife bought me a nice wooden table desk that fits just swell under the bedroom window, and looks out onto the lawn and flowers in our front yard.

As far as views go, I file it under things could be worse.

Sitting on the desk is my company monitor and laptop, as well as my personal laptop. With all those screens it looks like Mission Control, except I have trouble launching Photoshop much less rockets. There's also a desk lamp, along with several Hydro Flasks (hydrate people, can't stress it enough).

The problem is when I'm on a Zoom call, you can see most of my bedroom, including the not-as-firm-as-it-used-to-be-oh-my-aching-back California King bed behind me. So now, in addition to everything else to worry about, I have to get up early to make the bed and dress the room for showtime—the many Zoom calls I'll be on during the day.

I suppose I could take the easy way out and use a virtual background. The one with the wind blowing the palm trees is nice. So is the Golden Gate bridge. I've even added the hallway from The Shining and the lunar surface as options. But it's always a little distracting when several people on the call are using the same background. And if we're all in the same place, why do we have to have a Zoom call in the first place, amIrite?

Also, Zoom hasn't quite mastered the fine art of green screen. Using virtual backgrounds makes various parts of my face, fabulous head of hair and ripped (fat) body disappear while I move around during the calls. Mostly to drink from one of the Hydro Flasks.

So here's the new early morning routine: make the bed. Arrange the mountain of pillows the wife stores on the bed. Put the Thunder Road street sign my daughter gave me on top of the lamp next to my headboard, because, you know, Bruce. And make sure all the books on my night stand are facing spine out towards the camera, so everyone can see all my anti-Trump reading material.

If I was working in the office I wouldn't be able to make any political statements. But this is my house, so Fuck Trump.

The worst part of this work from home deal is getting up early. I've been called a lot of things, but morning person isn't one of them. Currently my iPhone alarm has Uptown Funk set to eleven to jolt me up in time for the daily show. But given the situation, I'm thinking of changing it to something more subtle, yet appropriate.

Like a stage manager screaming "Five minutes! Places people!"

Thunder Road

You didn't really think I was going to get through the week without a Bruce post did you?

Anyone who knows me—as much as anyone can know anyone—would tell you Thunder Road is not just my favorite Springsteen song. It's my favorite song ever. I was trying to think about why that is. It's not the first time.

As you'd imagine, I get asked about my Boss obsession a lot, and I've pondered it for hours, months, years trying to figure it all out.

I was reading through the comments on this Thunder Road video, and I read this one from Jimmy Braum.

The second I did, it felt right.

So thank you Jimmy for putting in a line the feeling I probably would've rambled on for paragraphs about, without getting anywhere near as clear and succinct as you have.

As I write this I'm getting ready to leave work and head home.

I bet you can guess what I'll be listening to on the drive.

Land of hope and dreams

Since the very first time my friend Jeff Haas played it for me, Bruce Springsteen’s Thunder Road has been my favorite song. And being the fan we all know I am, it won't surprise anyone when I say that if I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it at least ten thousand times.

Except here’s the funny part: last Saturday night, I felt like I heard it for the first time.

I flew to New York last Friday for the weekend to see Springsteen On Broadway, Bruce’s new and first Broadway show, where he tells stories about his life, sings a set playlist of songs and reads from his autobiography, Born To Run.

I'm just thankful we didn’t get the understudy.

What I wasn’t prepared for was how intimate, raw, emotional, joyful, tearful and brutally honest the evening was. I can’t imagine any other artist being that open with their audience (not that I spend a lot of time thinking about other artists). But then again, that’s always been part of the attraction to Bruce. He's not hiding behind his songs, he's revealing our shared experiences and feelings through them.

In the show, Bruce tells the stories of his life—his family, his rockstar journey, pays tribute to his late friend, sax player and sidekick Big Man Clarence Clemons, unflinchingly declares his love for his wife Patti— punctuating and adding perspective to them with carefully chosen songs from his library of forty years. I’ve heard every one of these songs dozens of times in concert. Yet, set in the context of the show, as I said, it felt like the first time.

It’s a scripted show—a considerable change from the mix it up, multi-night gigs and audibles he calls during his arena shows.

And speaking of arena shows, the 950-seat Walter Kerr Theater is about as far as you can get from an arena.

Easily the smallest venue he’s played in thirty years, it’s difficult to imagine a more perfect place both acoustically, artistically, historically and spiritually for Bruce to tell his stories. Yes it's a Broadway theater, but it is every bit as much an essential character in this transcendent experience as the music is.

I don’t want to give away a lot about the show, because I have friends who will be seeing it soon. I will say this: be ready to laugh, cry, reflect, rejoice, pray (you heard me), be grateful and celebrate with 950 of your newest, closest friends.

There is a point in the show when Bruce talks about his music and the journey we’re all on, hoping he’s been a good traveling companion along the way.

Frankly, I never would have made the trip without him.