Drawing the line, with lives on it... Paulina Vanderbilt on The LOHAD Tour's opening night
- Paulina Vanderbilt
- 2 minutes ago
- 5 min read
May 17, 2025
I made a sign for Wednesday night’s show in Manchester and asked my child if they thought it was too political, perhaps. “Mum," they replied, “if now is not the time to be political, when is?’’ So I went to the Co-op Live venue with my sign for "Chimes of Freedom," inspired by the song's presence on that leaked rehearsal setlist, and listing on my sign all that is under threat in America’s current administration (and under many of Europe’s current governments, as well:) queer rights, female bodily autonomy, refugees, Black Lives Matter, an end to war and genocide… Springsteen had renamed his current set of new and rescheduled European tour dates "The Land of Hopes and Dreams Tour," and I trusted I had interpreted the mood correctly.
But my, I was not prepared for what transpired over the next two-and-a-half hours. Of course, Bruce has always been politically engaged and not averse to taking a risk when he feels strongly about something. (Remember "41 Shots?") But over the years his attention had shifted to maneuvering the world as an aging man, dealing with death, the passing of time, and remembrance. And very few, if any, of the big artists at the moment have come out to state what is on the minds of so many of my friends under threat in America and even much closer to my home.
So when Springsteen welcomed us with a speech about an America "currently in the hands of a corrupt, incompetent, and treasonous administration," the first tears started flowing. Even before he played the first notes, he laid his cards on the table. He drew the line, and he was not pretentiously poetic or shy about it. Even now, re-listening to it on his website, I well up. I so needed "my Boss" to stand up for humanity, but not in my wildest dreams did I dare to dream he would do so in such a bold and uncompromising way.
I know, I know. A review should be about the music, and we are three paragraphs in. So let’s talk about some of his musical choices. Obviously, it all started off with a great version of "Land of Hopes and Dreams."
Bruce was in wonderful voice. He and the E Street Band had been rehearsing for quite some days, and it showed. And we sang it back with all that we had in our lungs. He wasn't holding back, so neither were we!
After immediately following up with intense back-to-back-to-back versions of "Death To My Hometown," "Lonesome Day," and "My Love Will Not Let You Down," Springsteen and his band gave us the world-premiere live version of "Rainmaker," in menacing and understated form, dedicated to "our dear leader." I don’t actually care too much for the recorded version of this track. (Eeks, do I dare to be sacrilegious?) This night’s quiet and restrained rendition, though, was something else. It is not always the loudest voices that get the message across; the menace in the song slithered over the stage into our veins. Following it with a very raw "Darkness on the Edge of Town" had me reeling. My heart was beating, not with youthful optimism but with a belief that we can, no must, speak up. We make our choices and yes, we may have to be willing to fight and possibly die on that hill for them.
At Co-op Live arena on Wednesday night, it was impossible to misunderstand "My Hometown" as a larger metaphor for the whole of America. The 2023-2024 tour's mood of mourning the past has now been replaced with Bruce’s need to hang on to a flawed country that he nonetheless holds dear. He's here on business, and he is loud and strong. "Youngstown," with its powerful but poignant solo by Nils Lofgren, was followed by a raging "Murder Incorporated." Heavy on the guitars, Bruce and Stevie Van Zandt battling it out old-school style. And I was going wild. Fist-pumping, turning around to sing it back to my friends behind me. "Muuuurrddeerr! Incorporated!!!" Fuck it; fuck all of this shit! And 23,000 fans agreed. We tore the roof down.
We shifted a gear with "House of a Thousand Guitars." Bruce’s voice, a harmonica, a guitar – and this was all we needed to understand our life is no more than a "union of people around a common set of values," to quote from Bruce's introduction to the song. "Now that’s all that stands between a democracy and authoritarianism," he added to that introduction. "At the end of the day, all we’ve got is each other."
And that's all I needed, too. From back when I was fifteen, and now forty years on, the through line has remained Springsteen's live artistry moving me beyond words.
When "Uncle" Bruce sat down on the stage's steps for a chat with the audience during last year's shows, it was the start of play. On Wednesday night, however, it was the start of a righteously eloquent speech, introducing "My City of Ruins," about the current shitty state of affairs, accurately calling out an "unfit president and a rogue government." We will rebuild this city of ruins. We have no choice; we must find enough humanity. And as Bruce’s voice soared, he held on to his microphone, and I noticed it was shaking! Was it his age peeking through for a moment? A bit of nervousness about hitting that particular vocal part? Or was it just a physical and emotional manifestation of his indignation at what and who is ransacking the land he loves and believes in? So far, the horns had not been in the spotlights much this evening, but here of course they shone strongly. As did the E Street Choir.
Whilst it was obvious that Bruce wanted us to rise up, he hasn't forgotten that there is always room for some sheer enjoyment, as well. And so the rest of the night was mostly more familiar territory, apart maybe from "Human Touch." It rocked and souled, Bruce’s voice still holding out beautifully. No need to feel nervous, Bruce, if you ever did. You had this all along!
Still, Bruce wouldn’t be Bruce if he didn’t end with a clincher: that version of Dylan’s/The Byrds' "Chimes of Freedom," which he last played during the 1988 Amnesty International Human Rights Now! Tour, was a fitting conclusion to a poignant, politically and musically intense show. Also, because at that moment, it was not about Bruce Springsteen, the man or the rock star. The E Street Choir lined up on the end of the stage to raise their voices with ours, as a band of brothers and sisters, praying for a common humanity. And I stood to attention, raised my fist and wept, safe in the knowledge that the man who has been my moral compass for over forty years was once again speaking up - and singing out - for a better world for all of us.
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Paulina Vanderbilt is a writer who lives in the city of Delft in South Holland, Netherlands. Her self-described "Springsteen-fuelled" novel Chasing the Heartland can be purchased by clicking here. You also can visit PaulinaVanderbilt.com to learn more about her and her work.
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