Tampa Calling

I was a bit less enamored with Bruce Springsteen’s Super Bowl halftime performance than the rest of the world, but I’ll give the man his props: He understood the situation and delivered a rousing, crowd-pleasing 12-minute set. No time to ease into the show, no room for subtlety — this had to be bang-bang, here we go!.

I would never have guessed that Springsteen and his DeMille-ian cast of musicians known as the E-Street Band would start with “Tenth Avenue Freeze-out,” but I was glad they did. The R&B stomper is one of those simple tunes that gets the adrenaline pumping. The house party I attended — baby boomers all, except for their kids — was up, happy and moving.

Holding the mic sans guitar, Springsteen, pushing 60, dusted off one of his stage moves of old when he ran and slid on his knees into the camera. Ultimately, it was a crotch shot, however brief, and when Springsteen then stood and grinned into the camera, he seemed to understand how silly it was. (I’m wondering if there were parents in the Bible Belt who tsk-tsk’ed at the inappropriateness of such a spectacle.)

After the Boss’ trademark count-off, the band moved into “Born to Run,” another song that always gets the juices flowing. The tune’s theme of post-adolescent alienation mattered not. Several times Springsteen’s vocals darted patently out of tune, but that’s OK, it was pandemonium up there.

And then the tide turned. Springsteen has a new album out, a mediocre one called Working on a Dream, and he broke out the title track. To spice up this flat, uninspired piece of music, a mammoth gospel choir crowded onto the stage. The effect was unkempt, and the performance went from exciting to teetering on chaotic.

Springsteen should’ve left new material on the shelf, but during a press conference he candidly said that one of the reasons he took the Super Bowl gig was to pimp his new CD. At least he had the good sense to keep “Working on a Dream” mercifully short.

From there it was into “Glory Days,” his most sports-themed song, and one that he tailored to fit the occasion (”speed ball” became “Hail Mary,” if memory serves). And here’s where this assessment of the performance becomes thoroughly biased: I’ve always hated the song. It makes me cringe. The best I can say here is that, in the context of the moment, I cringed a little less.

Last year, I saw Springsteen for perhaps the eighth time, and found large portions of the show so leaden that I swore off ever attending another one of his concerts. I’ve always been on the farthest margins when it comes to appreciating him — and whatever fandom I had has gradually dimmed over the years. I never understood why folks watched the clock to see if he would pass the three-hour threshold for his concerts. That’s just too fucking long.

So in that light, I’ll give him high grades for his Super Bowl set. If Springsteen and company want to play more balls-out 12-minute sets, I’ll tune in — and hope they don’t play “Glory Days.”

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