Bruce Springsteen – Super Bowl XLIII Halftime Show Review

Infamous live performances are rarely tied to the Superbowl. Those shows, a fifteen-minute slot for whichever contemporary artist they can haul into performing, is just another cog in the strange machine of American Football. But when Bruce Springsteen tells you to put down the nacho dip during a roaring, albeit brief performance, you listen. You listen well. Look at his eyes. Unhinged. The pupils of a man who wants full attention on a performance of 10th Avenue Freeze Out and will know if he does not get it. Something about that song and the saxophone work punching in behind those desires for a dancing America settles in well, as though Springsteen is trying to break through the consumerist notion this sporting event brings. He fails, but by God, does he try.  

And trying is all the likes of Springsteen have left. They have conquered the stage and studio, next is the hearts and minds of the country. He is no Walter Cronkite but what a show. That silhouette which hangs for just a second too long, the beautiful homes where The E-Street Band invades, is all part of the great American excess. Springsteen plays his role well. Sincerely one of his greatest moments is impacting those Superbowl watchers with songs that, while already established classics, go on to reform the storytelling style of a twelve-minute slot. “I want you to put the chicken fingers down,” has never sounded so fiery. Springsteen glides across the stage, screaming for some life on the other side of the screen. Twelve minutes is no time at all. Few can leave an impression in that time, let alone warm and work a crowd as well as this.  

But with 10th Avenue Freeze Out sounding exceptionally fine-tuned and roaring into Thunder Road, it is hard not to get carried away with this one. What has stayed consistent – and you can find it deep and frequently here – is the strength of Springsteen as a performer. He knows the occasion, feels for what the crowd wants and ignores it entirely. His confidence as a stage presence is more than enough to change the attitude of those in attendance and it shows here as he flicks through three of his all-time greats. A rocker with a mind of his own, even now, when playing those big corporate shows. Those fireworks just add to the occasion of these songs, rooted as they are in the fundamentals of working-class joys.  

Ending with Glory Days is an exceptional choice which, to his credit, has stayed relatively constant in its show-ending capabilities. The back-and-forth between Springsteen and Stevie Van Zandt remains fresh and in this instance brings around a nice culmination of a performance that is, let’s be fair, a chance to nip to the toilet before the game resumes. It does not stop the performance from being incredible. For those across the pond, it remains an insight into what is the great American spectacle, the rush and buzz of advertisement-reliant sporting events which last for hours and hours because The Man wants his cut. But The Boss is given twelve minutes and a few songs to play around with. He makes the most of this experience and becomes one of the all-time great highlights of the football season.