I love Bruce Springsteen. Anyone who is unfortunate to know me in real life knows this about me. Anyone who's spent any time at all on this site also likely picked up on it. (Although maybe they've been lucky enough to only real co-blogger pal Dan's posts on the same topic.) My reasons for this love are obvious: he's one of the greatest writers and performers in the history of rock and roll, with a range that's massively overlooked by those who only know him casually.
He's also overrated as a bandleader.
That's right. I said it. And I stand by it.
And I can defend my argument very easily—by simply posting this recently released clip of a Prince concert from back in 1982, when The Purple One was all of 24 years old.
Look. Bruce Springsteen was and is a phenomenal performer and bandleader. But this guy...this was simply another level. He watched Elvis and James Brown and Jimi Hendrix and Kiss and, yes, Bruce Springsteen and he mixed them up and then he did it all better. He's not only a better singer and guitarist and, yes, dancer than Springsteen, that band is tighter than the E Street Band could ever hope to be.
Which isn't to say I like Prince better, 'cuz I don't. I love much of his music and like even more. But he rarely hits the way Springsteen does. But you have to give credit where it's due, and by 1982 this lil dude was due pretty much all the credit there was, and he only got better from there.
There are so many things to be said about this performance: what an amazing singer Prince was, what a phenomenal guitarist, what an unsurpassed bandleader, how physically graceful he was. We could discuss what an odd choice it was to put that huge symbol right there, frequently obscuring his guitar playing. How interesting it was that he veered towards hard rock towards the end of his career.
But one thing kept leaping out at me as I watched—or, really, listened to—this performance and that was that there is absolutely no reason for a band like The Eagles or even R.E.M. to bring so many extra backing musicians on tour. Two guitars, bass, drums and keyboard—that's clearly all that's required for the richest, most massive of sounds. Those five musicians create an elegant sufficiency of the numerous harmonic and melodic delicacies; any more would be an unsophisticated superfluity.
You know, whenever my fellow whiteboys refer to Bruce Springsteen as perhaps the greatest bandleader in the history of rock and roll, I have to smile sadly and die a bit inside, thinking about how much better at every single aspect of being a performer Prince was. I may (I, in fact, do) prefer Springsteen as an artist, and brilliant as The Purple One was as a songwriter, I think Bruce is better. But when it came to the live show, the Artist Formerly and Again Known as Prince was very simply the best.
But today I was thinking of how justly lauded his guitar solo on "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction was, and how fitting the great Nils Lofgren's solo was in tribute, as Nils—like Prince at the Hall—quotes extensively from the original while adding his own touches and infuses the entire thing with his own inimitable style. It's searing, it's soaring, it's lovely. As befits Prince.
I've often thought of Journey as the anti-Beatles. Not that they were against everything or anything the Fabs stood for or represented—just the opposite, in fact; even without knowing much about what the band members believe in their heart of hearts, I'm quite confident all of them grew up loving the lads. No, I think of them as the anti-Beatles because each and every member of the most popular lineup of the band (although, really, it goes for the musicians who were members before they got really popular, as well as the ones who came after their heyday) is an absolute monster on his instrument. I mean, seriously, you just don't get better, really, on a technical level, than Steve Perry, Neal Schon or Steve Smith. And yet, unlike the Beatles, none of whom were technically all that accomplished—save, perhaps Paul McCartney, on bass—Journey managed to produce nothing transcendent, and little that's really, objectively, of lasting value.
Harsh, I know. So let me temper it with this caveat: a handful of their songs remain wildly popular, and I fully admit to liking several, including "Separate Ways," despite (perhaps) its staggeringly terrible in a slow-motion-train-wreck-can't-look-away manner.
And then there's "Faithfully." Another entry in the "oh, life is so hard on the road when you're a fabulously wealthy and popular musician" category, I absolutely adore this song unreservedly and without the slightest hint of irony—no mean feat, when you consider the mustache in its accompanying video.
Now, usually on our Favorite Song Fridays, we over some sort of analysis, whether it's a close reading of the lyrics, or perhaps our ham-handed stab at delving into the chord progression in some sad pseudo-music theory attempt. Not here. I got nothin', other than to mention Smith's typically spectacular drumming, and the fact that the lyrics are straightforward, which helps them scalpel their way directly into your heart, or at least, into my heart.
One funny note, though: apparently, Prince called up "Faithfully" composer Jonathan Cain, immediately after The Purple One had recorded "Purple Rain," to see if that masterpiece was too close to the Journey song. Cain assured the lil fella that other than sharing some chords, it was not, in fact, too close. For some reason, that makes me love the song even more, as well as Prince, and who knew that was even possible?
If you've spent any time here at Reason to Believe, then you know I love me some Bruce Springsteen. But this clip—and we'll see how long it stays up (I've got the under on three more days)—throws some stuff into stark relief.
The thing about Prince and Springsteen is that they were essentially doing the same job: they were both singer-songwriter-guitarist-bandleaders. So Prince was from the midwest and Bruce from New Jersey. And Prince was nearly a decade younger. But they were both voracious listeners with many, perhaps most, of the same touchstones in common. And they both praised each other publicly. Sure, their music tended to sound very different from each other's—with a few arguable exceptions (I've long been convinced "I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man" was not only the greatest song Springsteen never but should have covered but that it was Prince's nod to the Boss)—but then R.E.M. and the Replacements were both brilliant alternative rock bands in the early 80s and no one would have mistaken one for the other.
So the difference between how good at it Bruce was at the bandleading part of the gig (best in the world...except for one guy) and Prince was (#1 in the world) is amazing. 'cuz Springsteen was like an absolutely outstanding college basketball team going up against the Chicago Bulls during Michael Jordan's glory days. There's simply no competition, really. Springsteen was and is fantastic. Prince was simply on another level. I prefer Springsteen's writing, and his shows are spine-tingling. But Prince, man...
But speaking of his writing, this clip gives an idea, I think, of just how amazing he was: at his Hall induction, he didn't play "1999," "Little Red Corvette," "Purple Rain," "Raspberry Beret" or "Cream" or "Diamonds and Pearls" or "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World" or, oh yes, "When Doves Cry." Because he only had room for three songs and there were so many others to choose from. I mean...what in the hell? Who had such a catalog that he could afford to not play "When Doves Cry," perhaps the single greatest single of the entire 1980s—a damn good decade for singles—or his signature song, "Purple Rain."
"People know him from the ways he looked, and the different ways he looked, and different things he said – a lot of incredible things to remember him by. But I gotta tell you, and you just saw some great guitar playing. Prince was probably the greatest guitar player we've ever seen."
A little overstated perhaps? Let's go to the tape:
I love the cello but am often skeptical of its appearance in a pop context. While it can be beyond sublime it often feels like it's used when an artist is striving for respectability and depth, which can be extra jarring when the artist in question has no need to strive for what was already within their easy reach.
That's not what this feels like. Here's it's simply gorgeous and an integral part of this largely understated and entirely effective cover, with Chris Cornell making the most of his amazing voice by almost totally reserving its power, utilizing his lower register and letting its bluesiness do most of the work.
My wife's favorite song and my wife's favorite movie smooshed together? If I didn't know better, I'd think MORRISMCCLYMONT’s trying to make time with my best girl.
Here's a post I originally wrote five years ago. I just watched the clip again and found myself actually laughing out loud several times during the solo—it's that ridiculously great.
I just stumbled across this clip and...whoa.
Tom Petty sounds really good, and Jeff Lynne, the most successful b-talent perhaps in rock history, also sounds swell. George’s son Dhani—the spit and image of George—looks like he’s never been happier in his entire life. And the guitarist does a beautiful job of recreating Eric Clapton’s original obbligato accompaniment, does he not? He does.
But it's just before the three and a half minute mark that the real guitar solo begins.
If this is not my favorite guitar solo of all time, it is certainly in my Top Ten. I've listened to it dozens of times and I still get goosebumps every damn time.
Because he’s one of the most brilliant singer-songwriters of the past thirty years, a phenomenal singer and an unsurpassed bandleader and performer, Prince sometimes gets overlooked as a guitarist. If this solo doesn’t qualify him as one of the truly all-time greats in rock history, then such things have no meaning.
The word “blistering” is not strong enough. His complete and total mastery of the instrument, the flawless technique, the searing tone, the fluidity of movement, how he plays around the singers, the way he effortless drops littles quotes from Clapton’s original solo into the middle of this maelstrom and then back out, the stunning showmanship…sweet Jesu, this is the very essence of rock and roll guitar. Watching this, you wonder: if he had chosen to focus solely on his guitar playing, it's not inconceivable that he might have been the true heir to Jimi Hendrix, able to build upon and expand upon his groundbreaking explorations.
[Now the real question: what the hell happened to the guitar at the very end?]
A previous version of this was originally posted at Left of the Dial with, it should be noted, some might fine comments.
