Super Bowl Halftime Review

So my daughter, Stevie, goes to Syracuse University and takes an Honors class called "Music & Lyrics". And the assignment this week was to incorporate the week's readings (quoted at the bottom). As the forces of the universe converged, The Boss performed the halftime show at the Super Bowl. And an idiot guy over at a yahoo music blog wrote a ridiculous, scathing review. This is Stevie's response, which I must say is better than anything I could have said myself:

And The Big Man Joined The Band
Super Bowl Sunday would have gone unnoticed this year. And last. And the year before—had it not been for the halftime shows. The Boss’s shout out to the viewers at home with their guacamole and wings, jamming to “American Girl” as Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Mick Jagger in his leather pants dancing on the Forty Licks-shaped stage, Paul McCartney’s comeback, Justin Timberlake’s joint performance with Janet Jackson’s—um—exposure. THAT is the Super Bowl. That’s the only reason I unmuted the TV and looked up from my mile-high homework pile. Big Ben can run plays as much as he wants, the Big Man and the Boss were the ones scoring touchdowns this past Sunday.

Yet as I sat down with my morning coffee to peruse my email, I came across a Yahoo! article that shook me to the core. “The 10 Unforgivable Sins of Bruce Springsteen’s Performance At The Super Bowl” by Rob O’Connor. Springsteen reviewed as “too corny for his own good,” “Makes me wish there had been a wardrobe malfunction.” New negative perceptions of the musician I grew up admiring; the musician that set the standard for the rest of my musical interest. Ten reasons why Springsteen didn’t perform to par. “10 Unforgivable Sins.”

Hadn’t Rolling Stone’s cover story of the Boss praised Working on A Dream as the best album Springsteen and the Band had cut in a decade? Hadn’t tour dates been announced, hadn’t tickets sold out immediately? Springsteen is pushing 60 and performing like he was when he released Born to Run. Bruce Springsteen—“hokey”?

So I plugged in “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out” on my iPod speakers, volume cranked to decibel level 32; it’s important, I tell my studying roommate. I’m having a crisis of faith.

Horns beckon the beginning of the song. The opening drums roll into the banging piano. And then the vocals begin with intensity, power, and emotion. A song forms. A story is told. A halftime show begins. I dance around my dorm in red cowboy boots, a bandana around my forehead a la Steven Van Zandt, and “I’m gonna sit back right easy and laugh” (Springsteen, “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out”).

And so to you, Rob O’Connor: “Hey, this wasn’t made for you” (Utah Phillips, as quoted by Jeffery Rogers).