Bruce Springsteen

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No Jake hurt. I stand by my thought that Eddie struggled.
Really? Wow. Sydney was a fantastic show. A real quality over quantity show. Absolutely kickass show for me, granted you did more shows than me but it shat all over HV1. Sydney was the next best show after Melbourne 2 for me.
 
Really? Wow. Sydney was a fantastic show. A real quality over quantity show. Absolutely kickass show for me, granted you did more shows than me but it shat all over HV1. Sydney was the next best show after Melbourne 2 for me.
When I'm in the pit, after Bruce, Stevie and Garry, the ones I watch most are Jake and Cindy. And that night just didn't feel really on for me. Could solely be Jake.

HV1 gets points for full band Thunder Road.
 

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When I'm in the pit, after Bruce, Stevie and Garry, the ones I watch most are Jake and Cindy. And that night just didn't feel really on for me. Could solely be Jake.

HV1 gets points for full band Thunder Road.
You're the only person I know that has said Ed struggled. I would have spoken to 20+ people about Ed's performance in Sydney and everybody thought he was fantastic. Maybe it's your bias towards Jake making you think that (not trying to be an ass).

HV1 was good. That's it. I enjoyed 41 Shots (hadn't seen it), and yeah full band Thunder Road was great. As was The Wish. I had fun at that show with the people I was around.
 
jpkennedy nice selfie. Is Bruce stunned because you have Tom on your chest? Are you gonna blow up the photo and take it straight to the pool room??
Seems to be his standard selfie face.

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Serenade is, and was, so much better than Incident. I'll never know why those who know the canon rave about Incident so much.

There's plenty of time to rave about both :)

(to quote myself)

6. New York City Serenade
5. Incident on 57th Street

Get them on: The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle (1973)

There’s this movie that has to be made one day. It’s about a boy and a girl. They’re obviously in love but are tied to their hometown. They’ve got friends and family there and their lives are safe. They could live out an existence that they might be happy with... an existence that everyone around in their lives would be happy with them living. But there’s this nagging thought at the back of their heads that their lives lie on a different path to what everyone wants for them.

Anyway, they go through all these great scenes throughout the film and you never know their real names. Their friends have got a thousand names for each of them... there’s Puerto Rican Jane, Rosalita and Sandy for the girl... Spanish Johnny and Billy (but not Wild Billy) for the boy. But they’re the same person. That I have no doubt over (although I’m fully prepared to be proven wrong on this one).

The film takes place over the one night. It kicks off with the macho boys making their way into the one place where they reign supreme before the boy sees the girl of his dreams. He keeps a bit of his juvenile mentality when he pleads with her to be his... she resists but you know she’s interested in him too. Their lives are interwined. As they night goes on they meet their returned friend from the city. Her name’s Kitty. They thought they’d be angry at her for deserting them, but as soon as they see her, they’re overjoyed that she’s back. Then there’s the scene when their good friend, Wild Billy, has the hanging on intently as he tells them the stories they know can’t be true, but they hang on his every word anyway. And things seem idyllic. Things seem easy. But things are never quite as easy as they appear to be.

Trouble brews. The boys have to prove their manhood, whatever the cost. And things are serious. This isn’t just a fight where knuckles are bared, this is real. But the girl pleads with the boy not to get into too much trouble... "Spanish Johnny you can leave me tonight but just don’t leave me alone". Things heat up before the cops break up the action and everyone retreats. Johnny goes home but the night is still young, and he yearns for action. He looks at his girl, leaves her for the night and promises for a better life.

And it’s the better life he wants. He doesn’t want the life of walking the streets with the same guys he’s walked the streets with all his life. He knows that even though the city is within reach, that it’s another world away, a world he so desperately wants for him and his girl. And he makes his choice. He wants to get away from the life he leads, he wants to get anywhere but where he is. He makes a bold play for the girl, but her parents refuse. But you know he’s not going to give up that easily. He pleads with the girl, despite the reservations of her parents. "I'm comin' to liberate you, confiscate you, I want to be your man".

And he gets the girl. The final scene of the movie is their new life in New York City. Even though he tempts her with a cafe in San Diego, it’s New York City where their future lies. By this stage it’s midnight and the new day’s sun will soon be on the horizon. There’s a whole new raft of characters to be found in the city. There’s the Jazz Man... the fish lady, but honestly, there’s only two people on those streets. The boy and the girl, and they glide their way down the New York City streets, hand in hand walking away from the camera, their whole lives in front of them as the Jazz man walks away in another direction, softly singing to their future.

The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle is so far and away my favourite album of all time. I don’t think anything’s ever come close to the title before or since. I can’t even sit here and tell you what my favourite album of all time was before this. Bruce Springsteen has made grander albums, and has albums with more great songs, but none of them resonate with me like this album does.

And at its heart is a second side which is truly remarkable. I’ve already spoken about ‘Rosalita’, but really, it’s ‘Incident on 57th Street’ and ‘New York City Serenade’ which leave the most lasting impression on my ears. ‘Incident...’ is a more hopeful version of ‘Jungleland’. It’s ‘Jungleland’ before things went bad... while ‘New York City Serenade’ is simply a remarkable song... a true showcase for the talents of David Sancious, who not only lays down the opening piano, but also gives the song its breathtaking string arrangements.

It still boggles my mind to think there aren’t more people in the world who know and love these two songs as much as I do. They leave such an impression on me with each and every listen that I can’t fathom anyone having an opinion that differs from mine - one of completely and utter surrender to the powers of each of the songs.
 
UpForGrabs can you post your countdown in here from start to finish? Would love to read it all again.

Half of me says yes. Mainly because the original message board that I posted it to had a massive server crash and all was lost from there. Partly because it'd be cool to go through that again.

That, and I want to include 'Ain't Good Enough For You' in a double-slot with 'Sherry Darling'.

The flipside is that I don't want to tinker with it but I don't think I could help myself. There's a few songs I want to bring up, another few to push back down, and I don't think that's fair to the original countdown.

We'll see though :)
 
UpForGrabs I found your top 101 songs list I saved, after getting Fade Away wrong - no. 10 not no. 2. I get the impression Roads and Streets are important to you - or the way Bruce talks about them and what he does on and around them. ;)

05 Incident on 57th Street
04 Backstreets
03 Highway Patrolman
02 Racing in the Street
01 Thunder Road
 
UpForGrabs I found your top 101 songs list I saved, after getting Fade Away wrong - no. 10 not no. 2. I get the impression Roads and Streets are important to you - or the way Bruce talks about them and what he does on and around them. ;)

05 Incident on 57th Street
04 Backstreets
03 Highway Patrolman
02 Racing in the Street
01 Thunder Road

Haha - and #6 is NYC Serenade - where he sings about waltzing down Broadway.
 

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Alright - might as well start now.

So... for those who don't know, I started a 101 Springsteen Songs countdown over at the Sound Opinions Forum back in late 2010 (the forum's servers have since crashed and wiped about 3000 posts of mine - mega sad. Some of that shit was gold).

The countdown took a number of months, but I finished it about 6 months later, IIRC. Reading some of this back is embarrassing, but that's what happens when you do this as a stream-of-consciousness kind of thing.

101. 'I Wanna Marry You'.
Get it on: The River (1980)

The story goes that in 1979, when Bruce and The E-Street Band were in the studio recording what would eventually become The River, they serious contemplated replacing Max Weinberg as the band's drummer. Whether that's fact or not is unknown to me, but it's true that Max was in a slump. He couldn't keep time properly and Bruce let him know about it.

Fast-forward to 1999 and the E-Street Band were getting ready for their reunion tour and no one was really sure how Max would fit the tour into his commitments as bandleader for the Max Weinberg 7 on Late Night With Conan O'Brien. There was talk among fans that of all E-Street Band members, Max was the least integral to the sound of the band and was therefore easy to be discarded, with the likely replacement being Gary Mallaber (who'd been drummer du jour for Springsteen recordings since The Ghost of Tom Joad).

'I Wanna Marry You' does not feature Max Weinberg's best drumming. I'm sure that if you were a drummer, you wouldn't find it too hard to play this song. It doesn't feature any solos, runs or blister-inducing pounding. Yet it fits perfectly with the song. It highlights what the 1999-2000 tour highlighted above all else - that Max Weinberg is as an essential part to the E Street sound as anyone. His drums fit the songs like a batting glove does to Albert Pujols.

The little snare drum at the start and near the end of 'I Wanna Marry You' makes me smile. So does Gary Tallent's bass, which thankfully here (and all-to-rarely in other songs) gets pushed high in the mix. Danny Federici chimes in with his organ and on one song you have the three most underrated members of the E Street Band shining above all others.

How can that ever be bad? And when you've got Bruce giving us his soul man impersonation for three-and-a-half minutes, you find yourself listening to a little slice of Springsteen heaven, one which others would be too quick to label 'filler', but a song which would reveal itself to interested listeners as the thoughts of a man who just wants to love and be loved.

Many people peg Bruce Springsteen as just a rocker. Some see him as too serious, some as a phoney. Some think he's only happy when talking about cars or streets, and that the happiness of a cold steel engine produces his best songs. Some will say he can only pitch his tuning fork in to the struggles of others. I say he does all of that, but most of all, he excels when he deals with the struggles within himself. Sure, he may give himself another name, or place himself in another man's shoes, but he's essentially singing about the fears, and if the situation permits, the joys in himself.

'I Wanna Marry You' shows that even with adulation, he's still just a man. OK, he's got his music, but show me a man who says that they don't need companionship when all they need is music and I'll show you a liar. In 3:30, he proves once again that he's just a bloke, singing about the thoughts, fears and hopes of every man including himself. And doing it quite well, mind you.

The Best Bit: The last verse. All of it. Just a great send off to the song which pushes it up a couple of notches.
 
100. 'Bring on the Night'
Get it on: Tracks (1998)

There's a certain air of reverence that hovers around Bruce Springsteen, and luckily it's not one I've had to deal with often simply because no one I know actually likes the guy's music. I'd go so far as to say that they downright despise him. But their hatred is based on the Born in the U.S.A persona and not on his whole body of work, so I'm willing to dismiss their scorn as plain ignorance.

But among Springsteen fans? Wow, sometimes you gotta step back and just enjoy the music as opposed to focusing on every last detail. Springsteen's reputation as a serious songwriter is fine enough, and more than justified, but too often his fans neglect the fact that he's also got a desire in him to punch out the fun or even dumb songs which are only out there to rock.

When Tracks was announced in 1998 and the track list was announced, the outcry was long and loud from fans who mourned the fact that 'The Promise' wasn't there, yet songs they'd never heard of had earned a birth. Tracks like 'Give the Girl a Kiss' had Springsteen admit that even he forgot that he had recorded the song. But if you put the first disc of Tracks on and skip to Track 14, you'll get 'Bring on the Night'.

It's the kind of song that really has no place on a Springsteen album proper. It doesn't tie in with any of the thematic structures that all of Springsteen's late 70s and early 80s albums needed to tie them together. It was meant to be on something like Tracks. But then again, when you think about it, it's the kind of song that lesser bands would put as a centrepiece on their Greatest Hits album.

It's the kind of song that you could see being the perennial concert opener for a band... their sax player lurking behind the lead singer and when the sax break comes... the singer drops to his knees as the sax rocks out.

But it wasn't good enough for a Springsteen album. That definitely isn't to say that the song isn't good enough. Anything but. It just shows the riches lying in the man's vault that a song such as this really found no place but on an odds-and-ends collection.

The Best Bit: The mid-song breakdown. Slow the music, kick in the drums and bring in the Big Man. Not much more to ask for...
 
99. 'The Fuse'
Get it on: The Rising (2002)

I love/loathe The Rising. I love many of the songs there, but I loathe the fact that it contains just a few of my least-favourite Springsteen songs ever. I mean 'Let's Be Friends (Skin to Skin)' is just the biggest piece of shit you're ever likely to hear from Springsteen or anyone else. It's the kind of song that you'd expect Maroon 5 to pass on.

But for all the minutes the album takes up, it's the 5:38 which 'The Fuse' uses which intrigues me the most and I can't tell you why exactly. Not to say it's my favourite song on the album, it's just the most intriguing. First listen and I skipped the song after about a minute. The album was too long to squeeze into my trips to and from work, so I edited the album down to make a nice 40-minute version. 'The Fuse' didn't make the cut.

Fast forward a while later, and I put the album on to see how it held up. Sure enough, 'Let's Be Friends (Skin to Skin)' was just as bad, if not worse than it was the first of two times I've listened to the entire song of my own choosing. But 'The Fuse' stood out as something I might have been harsh on... and since that listen it's done nothing but grow on me.

It's an insistent song. Bruce's gruff, almost-couldn't-give-a-crap vocals match the pounding beat that drives the song and what you're left with is a song that shouldn't work on really any levels, but ultimately sticks with you until you realise the inevitable truth - that it's one of the finest songs on The Rising.

The Best Bit: I'm not one who'll chime in and say "wow, those female backing vocals kick ass!" on really any Bruce Springsteen song. But here, they do. I actually had to check the credits just now to see who it was and it turns out it's Patti Scialfa and Soozie Tyrell. Wow, ladies. Bringing it. Oh, and Max Weinberg, take a bow... this is your song.
 
98. 'Be True'
97. 'Loose Ends'

Get 'em on: Tracks (1998)

There's 66 songs on Tracks, and I probably have some sort of emotional attachment to most of them. My Springsteen obsession didn't start until 1997. My neighbours had moved to Alice Springs for what was initially going to be a year (they're still there), and instead of carrying everything half-way across this massive country of ours, they decided to rent out their house and leave a few things with us. My dad (and me, it must be said) got a kick out the massive selection of French reds which filled the wine cabinet (we were allowed to drink a few, but we were told the ones which were off-limits), while I was intrigued by the huge collection of records they left in our safe hands. Well, it seemed like a huge collection at the time. It was probably in the vicinity of 300-250 albums, and truth be told, more than half of them were by old Swedish dudes with moustaches right of Queen Victoria's funeral in 1901.

But the good stuff that was there was really good. Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, The Band, Toto IV. Well, maybe not the last one - although I'll get into a street fight with anyone who claims to not like 'Rosanna'. I'd lose the fight, to be sure, but you gotta stand up for what's right, even if it's for something which you know is wrong, so very wrong. Anyway, back to the point. The only Springsteen album in the bunch was Born in the U.S.A. Now, at this stage in my life, I wandered around trying my hardest to blend in. Whether it was shaving all my hair off because, well, everyone else was doing it, to the drinks I drank in public, right down to the music I listened to, I did my best to fit in because I never had before. By now I was at university and my dark school days were behind me. Gone were the threats from the guys who never amounted to anything, and now was my chance to not be seen. I listened to some real shit, but man... this record collection opened my ears.

One day, I snapped. I won't call it an epiphany, just say I had the big imaginary light bulb above my head go off. I took all the CDs I owned and sold them to a woman I worked with. There weren't many, but I needed them gone from my life and I needed to start anew with what cash I could muster. I made $550 that day and immediately drove to the best record store I knew, Perth's 78 Records. I started with the classic rock. Floyd, Zeppelin, Stones. Picked up Abbey Road and Highway 61 Revisited. Even bought Born in the U.S.A because CDs just seemed easier. As I earned more money that year I bought more. I couldn't believe what I was hearing when I first played Led Zeppelin III. My first listen to Dark Side of the Moon was at 2am in an empty house with the lights off and the speakers cranked.

Where's this all going? Tracks was the first Springsteen release I bought that wasn't some attempt to catch up to the past. It came out 11 days before my 19th birthday and it was the first release where I knew I wasn't decades behind everyone else. I could have arguments with Springsteen fans who were hearing the discs for the first time and feel like I had something valuable to add to the discussion. I didn't know where to find these people, but I was prepared should the day come where we would cross paths with one another. Now I don't know why, but I didn't listen from the start of the first disc. That morning when I opened the box for the first time (my first Box Set, btw), I went straight to disc two. 'Restless Nights' (we'll get to you later) came on and it was like the speakers punched me in the side of the head. I was used to the shitty-sounding CDs, not these re-mixed and remastered things I was playing. As I made my way through the 13 outtakes from The River on that disc, I couldn't choose my favourite. There was just no way. Now, for the purpose of this thread, I've had to rank favourites, but it was a damn hard thing to do.

'Loose Ends' was my song of choice for the first few listens. It's almost power pop music grabbed me right away - and this was before I knew what power pop was. And 'Be True', I knew to be an old B-Side, so I thought to myself that if Bruce saw fit to release it as a B-Side (which were always cooler) then I might as well like it too. But obviously each song is better than these pissy little recollections. Listening to 'Be True' today and you hear something which epitomises what I've believed for a while, that Springsteen circa The River was at his absolute peak. Commercially, he'd improve, but musically I don't think he ever improved on this. Sure, some guys will throw up Nebraska as their choice, and while it may certainly be, it seems the album that people throw out there because it's the only Springsteen album that's ok to admit you like (don't get me wrong, love Nebraska. Not his best though, not at all). 'Be True' and 'Loose Ends' give us an E Street Band totally in sync with each other.

The songs represent the polar opposites of love. One ('Be True') is optimistic that love can blossom, while the other ('Loose Ends') looks back on the love that was and mourns the fact that nothing could be done to stop it slipping from the singer's grasp. They're not the best tracks on disc two from Tracks, I've come to realise. 'Be True' gets its harder-rocking cousin in 'Mary Lou' and it almost dilutes its impact. Almost. 'Loose Ends' gets saddled with an unnecessary Clarence Clemons sax solo that grinds the song to a halt before it rises again to leave you skipping a breath. But I'll never forget the day that I opened up Tracks and listened to these songs for the first time. They were part of the collective holy grail and I can't remember having a reaction to listening to music for the first time. Not before and not since. Even if the songs themselves don't hold up to the memories, the memories are still there. And with songs like 'Loose Ends', I think that's a decent sentiment to have.

The best 'Be True' bit: Bruce's entire sublime backing vocal track. It would've been a simple choice to have Little Steven do the backing, but he chose to do it himself and it turned out for the better.
The best 'Loose Ends' bit: "Our love has fallen around us like we said it never could. We saw it happened to all the others but to us it never would. Well how can something so bad, darling, come from something that was so good? I don't know". The whole lyric is fantastic, but those last lines are just incredible. Three lines, and they sum up how I felt about every break up I've ever had.
 
96. 'None But the Brave'
Get it on: The Essential Bruce Springsteen (2003) with a re-recorded vocal. Or on bootlegs with the original, much better vocal.

'None But the Brave' was a song I heard sometime after I realised you could use the Internet to find people who, if you were really nice to, would send you masses of discs with concerts and studio bootlegs on them. I started with the basics... the Bottom Line show from 1975, the Main Point from February '75, Passaic Theater September 19, 1978. A couple of Tom Joad tour boots were thrown in for free by the guy who burned the discs to me, but that was because he was a fanboy for that tour. I didn't mind at all. As far as studio stuff went, I got a one-disc Born in the U.S.A-era bootleg but that was it. 'None But the Brave' wasn't on that disc but I kept on hearing things about the song.

Because that disc I received was the first one I'd owned, I was almost close-minded to the fact that there were better songs out there than what I had. If there was better stuff to be found, then why the hell wasn't I given it in the first place? You can see the dilemma I faced back then. With one source dried up, I went looking for others and then one day I finally came across the song. I listened to it (complete with its shitty sound quality) and listened again. And then again. Kicking off with the Big Man on the sax, it announces its intentions straight off the bat and never lets up. Well, it kind of does but then it brings you right back up to where you were before.

(What a badly written sentence that last one was, but hopefully it gets my point across.)

This is unlike anything on Born in the U.S.A and I'm glad it wasn't on the album because it would stick out like a redhead in Sweden*. But it's far too good to be relegated to the never released, so thankfully it got it's release on The Essential Bruce Springsteen. However, there's a catch. Bruce re-recorded his vocals, and although some may not admit it, his voice in 2003 wasn't the same as his voice in 1982/83. I actually have a hunch that this was one of the songs which was originally slated to be on Tracks, but got discarded because of the lengthy process of remixing all the tracks. If so, it might stand to reason that the re-recorded vocal is from this time frame, as opposed to 2003.

Which brings me to an interesting point. Bruce, for someone who spent his first album (and maybe his second) trying to cram as many words as he could into each line, somewhere along the way became a perfectionist. I think his perfectionism has receded somewhat in the past decade (how else can you explain Working on a Dream), but it's no secret that he'd spend far too much time on the things which mattered not that much. There's no real reason why 'None But the Brave' needed its vocals re-recorded, unless of course the master tapes were damaged and couldn't be salvaged. That's the only excuse I can begin to think I'd except. Instead, they were re-recorded and the song just loses the slightest edge.

The re-recorded vocal isn't even the biggest crime of the officially released version (and really, I'm just harping on about things, the song still kills ok?). The single greatest line of the song got changed. I couldn't believe it. I was singing along in the car when I picked up The Essential Bruce Springsteen and went straight for the third disc and this song. And man, I sang along with all I could as it played... but then it got to my favourite lines:

"Now tonight once more,
I search every face on this crowded floor
Lookin' for I don't know what for
Something that ain't there no more"


and it was changed to;

"Now tonight once more,
I search every face on this crowded floor
Lookin' for I don't know what for
Just waitin' to see her come on through that door"


A seemingly minor change, but one that pissed me off, least of all because he tries to fit too many syllables into that last line. Things got even weirder later in 2003 when, at Bruce's then-annual holiday shows with the Max Weinberg 7, they played the song for the first time ever. And guess what? Bruce went back to the original line when singing. Sometimes you've just gotta throw your hands up, say "I give up" and just move past it.

Even with the re-recorded vocal and the switch to my favourite line of the song, it retains much of the "whoah" factor I heard on that very first listen.

I'm almost tempted sometimes to call it the single-greatest outtake, but there's better ones. We'll get to them later. For now, there's this gem.

The Best Bit: "I take her hand, and we move away"... The guitar solo that turns into another guitar solo, both so melodically beautiful that it makes you wonder if Springsteen perhaps underrates his guitar playing more than everyone else.

*I've never been to Sweden, but I've always pictured everyone in that country to be blond haired. Also, the only man ever to be Swedish was Ingmar Bergman. Everyone else in Sweden is a 24-year-old, tanned blond woman with the physique of a beach volleyballer. Carry on.
 
95. 'You're Missing'
94. 'Two Faces'

Get the first one on: The Rising (2002)
Get the other one on: Tunnel of Love (1987)

Danny Federici, from my ears and eyes, was an intriguing man. I don't think he was particularly blessed with a virtuosic talent ala Roy Bittan or David Sancious, however he knew his shit. Shortly after his death, the overriding story coming from family, friends and bandmates was that he was the heart of the E Street Band. Ask him what key a certain song was in and he couldn't necessarily tell you, but when the time came for him to play his part, he'd do so without fail and with plenty of what makes us tick.

The history of Danny Federici and the E Street Band wasn't one of a guy who demanded centre stage, but a guy who'd play his part and then go back to waiting for the next time he was to play his part. A team player in every sense of the word. And when you think about the E Street Band, the term 'team' comes to mind regularly. Think about it, their concerts (again, I've never been to one, just listened to hundreds) are almost like thousands of people lining up to see their favourite team play. They know the style of play, they know what moves they'll make (aka what songs they'll play) and they know the inner-workings of each and every one of those moves (aka the words to each and every song). Despite this familiarity, the supporters keep coming back in droves.

More than Clarence Clemons, Danny Federici did the most with the limited opportunities he had to take the limelight. He was the ultimate bit player for the team that is/was the E Street Band. Clemons would get the sax solos, and some of them definitely seemed as though they were solos just for the sake of saying that there was a sax solo. Federici had these little moments where his organ would shoot through and take centre stage, and I can't recall a single one which seemed like it were there for the sake of being there.

'You're Missing' and 'Two Faces' are just two examples of Danny shining through when he got the chance. Two different songs, but together they're an example of what he bought to the band. Each contains Danny's moments to shine, and he doesn't let us down. He never let us down.

That's not to say that each song is without merits if Danny Federici didn't provide his two little slices of brilliance. Bruce is, as I'm sure most of you know, a storyteller. And on each of these songs, he gives us two looks. One into himself, and one into a family torn apart.

'Two Faces' tells us that at times, the singer is scared of himself. He knows the good he has, but he also knows that good times, however great they may be, are only temporary. But it's strangely not a pessimistic song, as the singer says to himself that should the dark side of himself try to **** things up to "go ahead and let him try". He knows that for all his flaws, his love's still there and above all else he'll do his best to make sure his love shines forever.

'You're Missing' cannot be separated from 9/11. It was written in its aftermath and although it doesn't state that 9/11 has caused the partner of the subject to be missing (the song's last line is probably talking about Anthrax, what with the "devil's in the mailbox, got dust on my shows, nothing but teardrops" lines), you can tell that the cloud of confusion and mourning of the immediate post-9/11 times is all through the song. Springsteen's restrained, almost wearied vocals and the accompanying strings will mean this is nothing but mournful. There's no hope, no closure. "You're missing".

It's the best Springsteen songs that refuse to sugar-coat life. How can a song be fully loved or be one which rings through generations if it's anything but real? Springsteen knows the secret to the greatest songs aren't a gimmick or a cool video, it's the ability to have normal folk like me, sit down and listen to the song and know exactly what he's singing about. As though you yourself had Springsteen shadow you for weeks, peering into your deepest secrets before he put pen to paper on his next song.

The 'You're Missing' Best Bit: Can't be anything but the double shot of the final verse leading into the organ coda... could very well be the single greatest moment on that album.
The 'Two Faces' Best Bit: "One that laughs, one that cries..." Bruce giving his all on vocals. This is a small moment, but in six words you know he means it. With an impassioned vocal such as this, you just know he can't be singing about anyone but himself.
 

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