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What a spectacle! A 70-something-year-old white man commanding the stage as he bellows into a microphone. He holds this packed stadium in thrall to his every utterance. The crowd is in raptures. His crowd. They’ve heard all he has to say before, and they want to hear it all again. They cheer, they chant, and they yell his words back in sync to him.
This is not some tawdry political rally, though, and the man on stage is no bumptious demagogue. He is Bruce Springsteen—“The Boss”—performing at a recent concert I attended. And I can tell you that his reputation as a fantastic showman is solid.
What a spectacle! A 70-something-year-old white man commanding the stage as he bellows into a microphone. He holds this packed stadium in thrall to his every utterance. The crowd is in raptures. His crowd. They’ve heard all he has to say before, and they want to hear it all again. They cheer, they chant, and they yell his words back in sync to him.
This is not some tawdry political rally, though, and the man on stage is no bumptious demagogue. He is Bruce Springsteen—“The Boss”—performing at a recent concert I attended. And I can tell you that his reputation as a fantastic showman is solid.