When I was in high school, maybe junior year, a new kid named Robert Ellis moved to town from Cherry Hill New Jersey. I guess we shared a class and became friendly, and one day he came over my house and we spent hours arguing whether Springsteen or the New York Dolls were better. It accrues good will to us that we weren’t arguing between Foghat and REO Speedwagon, these are two of the greatest rock artists of all time in their infancy, but I still remember him saying that the Dolls didn’t even play their own instruments, as if they were the Monkees or something. I loved the Monkees.
Robert was right, the Boss was boss, and I in fact had no problem with Greetings from Asbury Park or the Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle, except they weren’t the Dolls.
Today, or maybe yesterday, is the Boss’s birthday, and there is a post on Gothamist ranking all of his records. I’m so over that, I didn’t even open it, but it did make me think about the songs that speak to me. Top of the list is Rosalita, which should probably be everybody’s favorite song and lets be done with it. Then these two came to mind:
This is a really early version I’d never seen before!
Totally frightening, never old.