April 2008 Archives

In case there was any doubt:

Filing on this today for NPR, stay tuned for air date.

PS: please oh please notify us all about Prince boots from Coachella. Trade you for last year's Super Bowl sound-check ("Johnny B. Goode").

Here's reflexive enigma worthy of Joe Pesci: does Ellroy's masterful novel (or Dillelo's Libra) read like the nightmare forecast of David Kaiser's voluminously detailed history or the other way around? Is history more like fiction or does fiction tend to anticipate and generate history? Was there ever an ambitious, womanizing young senator who saved the country from Nixon, or was he just an excuse for a cosmic horror that reverberates in the national psyche like a sliver of glass in our collective cornea? Would you rather read Kaiser's review of Ellroy or Ellroy's review of Kaiser? Would somebody please assign this piece as the next cover?

"The Battle Hymn of the Republic" played as warmonger Bush greeted His Papal Self at the White House. Wonder if either of them could name the song's lyricist, Julia Ward Howe, who went on to write the Mother's Day Proclamation, a call for peace.

So, Jim and Brian and I wander around Vancouver this afternoon ... then we
wander over to the old hockey arena and pick up our our all-access passes to
the Foo Fighters show. And we're hanging out back in the bowels of this
arena until Brian's friend Nate, who plays bass in the Foos, wanders in off
the bus. He takes us into the dressing room. We walk in, and Dave Grohl is
jumping up and down. The rest of the band is hanging out. Introductions are
made. We all move next door to the Rock Box, where their sound system is.
Outkast. AC/DC. Loud. Shots of Crown Royal -- poured by Dave Grohl.
Eventually, Jim and I wander back out to the under-carriage of the arena,
because Jim had already met Bruce Springsteen, who was at the show with Gary
Tallent and Max Weinberg. I was drunk enough now that I could pull it off.

Bruce comes out of Against Me!'s dressing room and I say hello. He's totally
cool, and asks if I can wait a minute. Says he'll be right back. I say,
"Absolutely." He comes right back. Smiles when he come around the corner. I
thank him for living (basically), and he signs my ticket from last night.
And personalizes it. He goes on his way, and we head out to stand next to
the stage and watch Foo.

Next thing we know, Bruce is standing next to us. So, we watch half the show
with Bruce, who's bopping along to the show. He bolts. The rest of the show
rocks. Dave Grohl is a GREAT front man. Amazing that he was Nirvana's
drummer. The show ends. Out of nowhere, there's Bruce walking by. He stops.
"Any requests for tomorrow night?" he says?

"What's that?" I say.

"Any requests for tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. Um. Shit. Why am I blanking? Off of the third disc on Essential ...
None But The Brave!"

"Oooh. Tough one," Bruce says.

And he heads out. He seemed intrigued. I'm curious as to whether or not
he'll play it.

Then we go backstage and do shots of Jaeger with Dave Grohl and the rest of
the band.

Good night. It was a very good night.

[the next day...]

Bruce played the song. Not only did he play the song, but he explained why
he was playing the song. I get this quote as accurate as I can:

"I met this young guy last night who was in the pit for the last two shows,
and I made the mistake of asking if he had a request. He gave me an obscure
outtake from Born In The USA."

Applause.

"An outtake. It wasn't on the record. We've never played this. Most of you
aren't even going to know it. If you know this, you're hardcore, but we're
going to try it. I don't see that guy out there, but I'm sure he's here."

And they played None But The Brave ... And they played it Well.
--Ryan White, Oregonian sports writer...