30
Aug 01

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN – Streets Of Philadelphia

I Hate MusicPost a comment • 1,362 views

Being bedridden in hospital has its down sides as well as its perks. Most of these I irradicated by replacing my saline drip with one parts Tanq and two parts tonic – it glowed eeriely at night but the evening staff barely noticed. However your entertainment factor is limited and I caught myself watching that interminable do-gooding film Philadelphia. Lulled to sleep by the terrible acting of Denzel Washington and Tom Hanks I woke to a start where I heard a tube train rumble through my room. I soon realised that this was not the case – instead it was the evil factory owner of rock (some say The Boss) Bruce Springsteen theme tune.

Now of course in a lot of ways The Streets Of Philadelphia matches the film perfectly. It is awfully dull and worthy after all, without a single performance of note. But as I frantically tried to change channels on the television something hit me. Did Bruce actually know what the film was about? Because from those lyrics you would be hard pressed to work out this was a film about AIDS. This mularky about being unrecognaisable to himself and being bruised and battered – maybe he thought the movie was about the Rumble In The Jungle or something. That rumble being his low and frankly lousy singing voice.

This was a new Bruce though, not the bombastic rocker of the eighties (and I know Born In The USA was supposed to be ironic, and I know nobody got it – but how good is a joke if nobody gets it?) This Bruce was sensitive, reflective (albeit unrecognisable to himself) and solo – having just fired the E Street Band. It was his perogative, he was The Boss. That said SOP – as this song is aptly abbreviated – was almost enough to push me back into my coma. Until I realised the other major movie which was made in Philedalphia*. Mannequin. And say what you like about Springsteen, at least he didn’t write “Nothings Gonna Stop Us Now”.

*You can shut up at the back with your Philadelphia Story bollocks.

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