Springsteen, Truth, WTF?

On the Eccentricity of Bruce Springsteen: Case Studies & Analysis

An Artist’s perception of his work can resemble Bizarro World. Consider The Boss. Some of his best songs were never commercially released. A perfectionist is his own worst critic, sometimes misconceiving the quality of his finest work. As will be demonstrated, the picture below is no “stranger” than whatever mad criteria rejected the musical selections discussed here. Proceed with caution. This could divide your mind, generating dual personae: your conception of Springsteen prior to seeing the kitten and manatee (BKM); and whatever remains (AKM). In one fascinating respect, Bruce is more “eccentric” than Warhol, Dali, and Pynchon combined.

This catchy gem had Top 40 potential in the way Pearl Jam’s biggest hit was Last Kiss. They share a vibe, yet it missed the final cut. This is why some of us endured Indiana Jones-like odysseys to acquire Springsteen bootlegs back in ye Olden Tymes, before everything was released in box-sets of outtakes. You kids don’t know how good you have it!

Rendezvous, never included on a studio album. Badlands-tier. Seriously, Bruce?

Thundercrack, primal, wacky, MIA.

Once you process that Santa Ana was a mere demo you’ll be ready to entertain conspiracy theories or Freudian hooey as explanations. Wait. You’re still at base camp. The next two songs can change your life.

Ecstatic Raving from Publishers Weekly

This outtake of Stolen Car is arguably Springteen’s greatest moment in the studio. (AKA Son You May Kiss the Bride.) Art! “I travel in fear that in this darkness I might just disappear … No matter what I do or where I drive nobody ever sees me when I ride by” capture a chilling sense of life’s transitory, ghostly quality like James Dean stopping at A Clean, Well Lighted Place. Yet the version that landed on The River could most charitably be described as filler. What. Was. He. Thinking.

In what fallen, twisted world is Stray Bullet an “outtake”?! This is Stolen Car-tier. This is one of his best songs. By the second verse you’re in Cormac McCarthy territory. (How’s that for synesthesia.) Allegedly it sounded too much like Point Blank. To the contrary, Point Blank is reminiscent of Stray Bullet. It’s simply stunning that The River could have been a better album, which seems impossible in principle.

Unsatisfied Heart, rough as rough drafts come. Haunting story: “Once I had a home here. My salvation was at hand. I lived in a house of gold, on a far hillside. I had two beautiful children, and a kind and loving wife … One day a man came to town, with nothing and nowhere to go. He came to me and he mentioned something I’d done a long time ago.” Achingly beautiful chorus. What could this have become? Why would you abandon this?

The “official version” of Racing in the Street isn’t even a shadow of this … masterpiece. (Clearly some of the lyrics hadn’t jelled.) There’s an urgency, a fury, a desperation, a magnificence never surpassed by anything on Darkness on the Edge of Town.

The River should have been a triple album. Restless Nights is a surfin’ safari. Depriving the faithful of Loose Ends was theft. Grab a towel. Clarence’s solo will melt your face.

Johnny Bye Bye, b-side with a stone-cold groove few tunes attain. 112 seconds of Satori.

The studio version of Incident on 57th Street contained, only in embryonic form, The Beast it became live.

Jablonski met Springsteen after a solo acoustic show. He paid a few weeks’ wages for a seat in the orchestra pit. Paul Molitor, in the front row behind him, was teased by Jablonski for having a crappy seat. Jablonski told Bruce, “You know how you just made a concept album based on The Grapes of Wrath? Consider a reggae album inspired by Duck Soup.” Bruce laughed. He’s always laughing.

The plot thickens. What became of these:

Did Springsteen consider turkeys like Hungry Heart & Born in the USA better than the ones cited in this post? Maybe Shakespeare preferred Titus Andronicus. Freddie Mercury’s favorite Queen song was Crazy Little Thing. If there’s no accounting for taste there’s no accounting for most of what individuates us. There’s no accounting for taste.

In candor, what would possibly constitute an “explanation” of the Eccentric Genius Archetype, a pattern documented before Hippocrates. Recognizing the vast divide between mere descriptions and true explanations, marveling at the sui generis nature of our subject, the only conclusion is to redouble our gratitude to all those who made sacrifices to circulate Springsteen bootlegs back in ye Olden Tymes.

Jablonski once possessed 2k+ hours of Grateful Dead, Springsteen, Allman Bros, Dire Straits, Stones, Hendrix, Phish, Doors, Pink Floyd and sundry boots. On cassette. Those were plastic thingies with two small spools of tape inside. The preferred ones held 90 minutes. The GD let you record their shows if you sat in a special section. Jablonski would trade all his tomorrows for another run at Alpine. Paging Sean Carroll …

Estimations: A Synoptic Survey of Estimated Prophet

The Millionth Visitor, and He Never Knew

Petronius Who?!

Existentialism, Grateful Dead, WTF?

Do Androids Dream of The Mars Hotel?

Dream? No. Have hideous nightmares? Yes, emphatically. These pictures were ~~desecrated~~ enhanced by Deep Dream. The Luddites were right. Destroy your computer before it’s too late. First they ruined Chess. Now art. What’s next? Click the images to see the original pics, pre-atrocity, before the suffocating HPPD haze. Pro-tip: don’t criticize. You’ll be at the top of Skynet’s list. It’s too late for me.

If this is a foreshadowing of artificial “minds” to come, I feel a twinge of empathy. “Cut the Gooney Bird into quarters,” he said. I didn’t, a strategic blunder, but there were no hideous Chesire dogs writhing their way out of Hell during the show. I would have remembered that. Synesthesia during the cowboy tunes that felt like True Grit tastes, sure, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing like this.

I take it back. Dead Set is sublime, constructing its own civilization within specified parameters. Why does it see patterns where none exist? It’s worse than we are. Is there a computer analogue to “anthropomorphic”? There is now.

How does a computer know what a dog is? Why the obsession? The one(s) on the right were a drum. He/they either like Bobby or see Jerry as kin. When John Carpenter saw the Dead here’s how it looked.

VIT (very important test) of this program. The next three paintings are as beautiful and powerful and amazing as anything ever created. At least they were …

On top: What do you get when you cross a Celtic Frost album with the Humane Society? I don’t know but I wouldn’t hang it on my wall. Below: If Ashdod thought the plague was bad before! What happened to the Ark of the Covenant on the left? It seems to be melting into the column to create some Grimace-like creature.

Has Deep Dream lost the thread of Breughal’s painting or added to it? No wonder Icarus’ splash went unnoticed. Auden wrote “The sun shone as it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky.” Amazing? The falling boy no longer cracks the top forty. Auden needs to add “Along came a spider.”

Written long before seeing the picture below: “The fossilized tidal wave doesn’t dominate the horizon. It is the horizon. In its midst, as though some deluded pharaoh ordered the construction of pyramids and his servants made no attempt to point out the difficulties, angular chunks bulge, their icy patterns akin to webs spun by drugged spiders. Staring too long invites visitors. Faces like rough drafts by Edvard Munch cascade down the gnarled slabs, warning those who would approach, morphing, fading, always reappearing, a waterfall of tortured specters. Which is worse, that these are properties of the mountain or projections from your mind?”

The original is absolutely barren. It’s creating life where none existed. (Click the pic and scroll. This is very interesting. Deep Dream abhors a vacuum.)

Ecstatic Raving from Publishers Weekly

It read my mind on these covers. I wanted a mutant hippo-dog-thingy (who doesn’t?) but couldn’t describe it to the designer.

You don’t have to be aesthetically conservative to prefer the original Escher. If this program could write, the story would go as follows: It was a beautiful morning. Then some ghastly canine-becoming morphed out of nothing all over the place.

Bravo. This captures the inter-dimensional madness, paranoia and existential horror of Schrodinger’s Dachshund better than the book itself. Some “thing” emerging from the shadow puddling at Maestoso’s feet is a nice touch. (Some “thing” escaping from his mouth, less so.) Do you see the faces above “A Novel”? Yes you do. Deep Dream has HPPD.

The hints of faces on the berries make me consider replacing the old boring cover. Note the What-have-you in the upper left. Bi-lateral symmetry ain’t on this “intelligent” designer’s blueprints.

Eyes of The Lotus Pod

My beloved Louis Wain wiener dog logo. Deep Dream needs Ambien. The original has a frightening intensity, like he knows what you’re thinking and is not impressed. This one’s had too much coffee.