You're killing me, Bruce Springsteen

When Bruce Springsteen announces tour dates, as he did yesterday, I agonize. Every Springsteen concert I have seen this century, I swear it will be my last.

Tickets are costly, but mostly it's because of my worsening hearing. Except for well-known anthems like "Badlands," I spend the first minute of almost every song trying to figure out what it is. Then I try not to lose track of the song.

But to be there! To feel a part of something, a rock 'n' roll exorcism, I believe Springsteen calls it. It is pretty amazing.

Springsteen has such a gift. He can sing about cars and driving, and someone who hasn't driven in years can swear he is really singing about wheelchairs and disability crap.

But I can't hear anything he says in concerts, and I feel so wretched for not understanding some of my favorite songs.

And if he plays from his newer albums, I am totally screwed. It's not that I don't like them, but he really seems to drown out his words with the music, especially on Magic. And the first release from the new album Wrecking Ball does not sound promising. I can hardly hear the words.



I know my hearing is getting worse. I somehow mistook the name of my nephew's Pinewood Derby car as "Felix Jaguar" when he told me the name "Joe's Jaguar."

In my defense I knew it wasn't Felix Jaguar, but I swear to you that is what it sounded like.

I sort of blame the Seeger Sessions concert for my anguish. That is the only recent tour I have skipped. It wasn't going to be convenient to get to and I thought my hearing made it not worthwhile.

Of course, the Washington Post reviewer wrote of that show: "It was the best live show I've seen in at least five years. (And I've seen a few.)"

Tickets go on sale Saturday.