“Springsteen on Broadway” is an earnest meditation on his life and work, a “long and noisy prayer” delivered by a diligent and practiced showman.
Though he appears as sturdy as ever, Bruce Springsteen turned sixty-eight in September. It doesn’t feel egregious to suggest that he’s been feeling reflective lately. In 2016, he published a memoir, “Born to Run,” and has spent much of the last two years on an eighty-nine-date tour, in support of a reissue of his 1980 album, “The River,” which celebrated its thirty-fifth anniversary in 2015. He’s been mulling his arc—expiating, making sense of things. Also, and I don’t know how to say this delicately—his friends and peers are dying. That part hasn’t slowed down: Clarence Clemons and Danny Federici; Leonard Cohen, Leon Russell, Tom Petty.