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October 12, 2017

There came a moment the other night, near the end of Bruce Springsteen’s overwhelming and uncategorizable Broadway show, when it seemed possible to see straight through his many masks to some core truth of his being.

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October 12, 2017

When legendary record producer and talent scout John Hammond signed Bruce Springsteen in 1972, the scraggly Jersey kid was envisioned as a lyrically intricate singer-songwriter, who might be New Jersey’s answer to Bob Dylan.

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Nj.com
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Bobby
Olivier

October 12, 2017

Inside the Walter Kerr Theatre — a modest playhouse of just 960 red velvet seats — Bruce Springsteen could sing without a microphone. On Tuesday evening, The Boss stood on the stage’s edge as he belted his stormy tune “The Promised Land” over an audience that hummed with adoration: some fans whisper-sang along; others sat in full-on rock n’ roll arrest, staring in reverence at the man strumming his sunburst Takamine guitar. A dramatic crimson light cast half his face in shadow, mimicking the southwest’s unforgiving heat. Springsteen had just finished recounting his first cross-country road trip — a three-day marathon in 1971 that forced Bruce, who had never driven before, to speed halfway across the U.S. for an audition in California.

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Entertainment Weekly
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Madison
Vain

October 12, 2017

“I’ve never had an honest job in my life,” Bruce Springsteen declares from the stage of Broadway’s 939-seat Walter Kerr Theater, a far cry from the stadiums he’s known to fill. “And yet that is all I write about.” Reading off a teleprompter he’ll use throughout the evening with varying degrees of obviousness, he thanks the crowd for letting him become wildly successful on the back of that contradiction.

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October 12, 2017

“I’m no hero, that’s understood,” sings Bruce Springsteen in “Thunder Road,” self-effacingly but also with the knowledge that a cardinal rule of heroism is denying it. He’s got the dirty hood, sure, but it’s a hoodwink of a kind, and in the extraordinary concert show Springsteen on Broadway he is candid about that: Rock stardom, he says, is partly “a magic trick.” He’s the young man without a driver’s license writing songs about the road; the artist costumed in the “factory clothes” of his emotionally withholding father; the working man who is also always the Boss.

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