John Sacheli checks in with a post describing his growing ennui and why he’s sitting at home when Bruce Springsteen is playing. I know how he feels, looking around and realizing none of the cool stuff you used to do as a kid applies to you now. I think we both should probably make more of an effort; I know I’m getting a little antsy not playing music any more.
As for Bruce Springsteen, allow me to say that I think Bruce is kind of the Earnest Hemingway of rock-and-roll. By this I mean: I just don’t get it. I know a lot of people whose musical and literary senses I admire – people whom I generally admire a great deal – who are just nuts about Bruce and/or Hemingway, and you would think that I would therefore have found the key to what they like, but nope. Hemingway and Springsteen both embody something perhaps just a little too simplistically masculine for me to appreciate.
I’ve tried to understand. I bought myself For Whom the Bell Tolls for my birthday once. I don’t get it. I’ve stopped trying.