“Who the hell is Bruce Springsteen?” I thought. Dashing out the stage door of a late-night Broadway show to beat the blundering crowds back in 2019, violin case in hand, I stepped onto the uptown C train for a swift escape out of midtown Manhattan. As I scrolled mindlessly through email, a message caught my attention: My colleague was requesting musicians to record with Bruce Springsteen — later to be disclosed as a live album recording of Western Stars. Not recognizing the all-American legend and turned off by the Jersey shoot location, I asked my spouse if I should waste my time with this gig. Shocked, my husband immediately went into a diatribe on the greatness of “The Boss.” Full story.
Emma Sutton-Williams (Rolling Stone) / March 8, 2021