In the late summer of 2008, one of my very best friends handed me a CD copy of The Gaslight Anthem’s The ’59 Sound and said, “If you don’t like this, then I don’t know anything about you.” The sweeping hooks and the singalong-at-the-top-of-your-lungs choruses immediately had me longing for my old bitchin’ Camaro, so I could take off the T-tops, drive to a girl’s house, and cruise down Thunder Road. The imagery is so vivid that every song feels like it should be a part of a movie soundtrack where a revelation happens to the main characters, or someone is looking out the window of the train.
Oh, and Springsteen. Crazy amounts of unapologetic Bruce Springsteen worship. The New Jersey quartet (unofficially a quintet, with Horrible Crow Ian Perkins touring with the band) made no bones about their main influence, with songs layered with lyrics that re-appropriate Springsteen lyrics. But is Springsteen-worship enough to sustain a career, or is it a gimmick? Who cares as long as they make good music, right?
No. They have to play good music or they’re going to kill rock and roll. The Boss casts a long shadow, and if you’re going to make your name by standing in it, you need to understand the responsibilities that come with it.
Springsteen has fully endorsed The Gaslight Anthem. After sharing the stage with their sage, the Gaslight guys fully completed their conversion to E-Street’s JV team when the Boss himself lent them producer Brendan O’Brien to record their latest album Handwritten. The knock on Springsteen’s recent efforts, and ostensibly O’Brien, is that his last three records sound like someone trying to make a Springsteen record.
That’s what happened this summer to The Gaslight Anthem with Handwritten. Without expanding on the band’s sound or adding to the rock and roll genre, Handwritten sounds like someone trying to make a Gaslight Anthem record. The choruses are still great to sing along to (the title track in particular), the ballads are still haunting (“Mae” holds up to “Here’s Lookin’ At You Kid” and “We Did It When We Were Young”), and it’s not a step backwards by any means. But it’s not a step forward either. A band this young can’t afford to have what is essentially a placeholder album.
The Gaslight Anthem is a great band on wax. In this day and age, when entire libraries can be streamed wirelessly to a device, Gaslight has the rare distinction of being one of five bands whose entire catalogs are actually downloaded onto my iPhone in case I’m ever without internet or on a plane. But if co-opting Springsteen lyrics and imagery is going to be more than a gimmick, their live shows have to match that of late 1970s-era E Street Band, when Clarence Clemons was unquestionably the Master of the Universe.
The gauntlet was officially thrown down in Nashville (where Handwritten was recorded) at the Marathon Musicworks, a venue converted from an auto factory to artists lofts, a brewery and now a music venue.
There has been a generation in Nashville that can’t enjoy themselves at club shows. The reasons are two-fold: one, because apparently it’s not cool to show that one enjoys music, and two, there are so many industry-types that everyone expects to be on the list. In the case of The Gaslight Anthem, this is the first time in a long time that I’ve been to a club show in Nashville where everyone dropped the posturing and had a good time.
Regardless of my earlier criticisms of Handwritten, my fears were assuaged as the live versions are sweeping and energized, especially when enhanced with a room full of diehard fans. Even still, there could have been more to The Gaslight Anthem’s performance — whether it’s still fairly early in the tour, or they’re working out kinks, the performance seemed at times to be workman-like, and they really plowed through their set, leaving the stage after playing for just over an hour and a half. No one was expecting a three-hour marathon, but there were a few deeper cuts left off the set list.
For instance, Nashville would have been the perfect place to play “High Lonesome.” That’s like Springsteen playing Baltimore and leaving “Hungry Heart” out of the lineup. There were no covers, no surprises, no variations; any combination of which would have placed this show over the edge. Sure, every night can’t be the greatest, most high-energy show. But if every anthem is about fighting for your life, then matching the crowd’s intensity isn’t simply good enough. It’s the bands job to raise it even further — every night.
During the set, I noted the unsung hero of The Gaslight Anthem: drummer Benny Horowitz. This guy is a beast and may have earned Vini “Mad Dog” Lopez’s old nickname, especially due to his performances on such tracks as “The Backseat” and “Meet Me By The River’s Edge.” Furious and on time, Horowitz’s percussion is the backbone of every song.
From the opening of “Howl” where this reviewer was hit squarely in the face by a Bouncin’ Soul, the crowd sang along to every word of every song. We pointed to the stage on every “hey!” and “whoa” and guitar swell. Fists pumped during the extended jam session — and there was dancing. Legitimate dancing. Not moshing, not skanking, not crowd-surfing, not swaying, not head-nodding — but arms swinging, leg-flailing dancing without a care. A crowd this passionate has been missing from Nashville in a long time. And if it took Gaslight Anthem to drag it out of us, then please let them be the last real rock and roll band, because there’s nothing left for anyone else to do.