WHO’S THE BOSS?

If you need any further proof of the coming apocalypse, it appeared two weeks ago in Oakland, CA. Strangely, just one week earlier, a symbol of salvation had materialized in the exact same spot. What were these opposing forces? Two concerts, one featuring legendary rocker, Bruce Springsteen, the other, teen pop tsunami, Hannah Montana. The planets were messing around with the universe’s karmic symphony.

A month or so ago, my wife read that Springsteen was heading out on tour with his old E Street Band and would be making a one-night appearance in the Bay Area. We’re going,” she announced, implying the subject wasn’t up for discussion and leaving the details to me. Time to go into my hunter/gatherer mode.

There was a single show scheduled for a Friday night, which sold out in milliseconds. Those of us left out in the cold were resigned to going to ticket agents or the one-stop shopping center, Craig’s List. Opting for the latter, I found that reserved seats with a $95 face value were going for $350 a pair. Not exactly a bargain, so I thought I’d wait and see what happened as we got closer to the show date. No need to panic just yet. Of course, that’s what I said as the stock market kept going south this month.

A few weeks later, a second show was added on Thursday night. I was online at TicketMaster (aka TicketExtortionist) at 10 AM sharp the next day ready to snap up a pair, but somehow, tickets again sold out instantaneously, leaving me to wonder if I got squeezed out by the same cold-hearted profiteers who always beat my last second bids on ebay. I hate those people.

The good news is that the market was now oversaturated and on the day before the Thursday show, people who had bought extra tickets as a kind of investment, were having to sell short. Suddenly, it became a buyer’s market and seats were going for face value and on the day of the show, below face. At one point, I had six different people e-mailing me trying to sell off their tickets. It was like Michael Douglas in Wall Street when he had to dump all of his Blue Star stock. I don’t want to say I took pleasure in their pain, but it was a blow against the “greed is good” mentality.

Now, to the bad or at least, shocking news. As hot as the Springsteen tickets had been for the original Friday show, Ms. Montana (for the record, her real name is Miley Cyrus, Hannah Montana is her TV altar ego) kicked butt at the box office. According to StubHub, a ticket-reselling firm (more like legalized scalpers), the Best of Both Worlds tour is on track to surpass the Police as its top tour ever in both dollar volume and tickets sold. The most expensive ticket to date sold for $2,565 and seats in Oakland went from $300 to $2,000.

$2,000? What’s the world coming to? Some parents must be dipping deep into their wallets because teenage girls don’t have that kind of cash sitting around, unless they’re dipping into their college funds. At this rate, Ms. Cyrus will be able to donate a library to her own future alma mater. Hell, she could just buy Montana State (no offense to anyone reading this in Bozeman).

What’s the all the excitement about with this latest adolescent phenomena? First and foremost, the Disney marketing machine is a juggernaut and between The Hannah Montana TV show, Radio Disney, the mileyworld.com web site, teen magazines, MySpace, etc, Hannah Montana is more than just a star, she’s a brand. And with Britney, Lindsey, Nicole and Paris proving to be the ultimate non-role models, parents have no problem with Montana’s squeaky-clean image and bubble gum music. A sugar overdose is way better than a DUI.

Enough with the cotton candy, some random observations from the Springsteen show.

*The concert was scheduled to start at 7:30 PM and at that point, the arena was still 2/3 empty. With time to kill, we decided to move down from our seats to some to closer to the stage, figuring we’d just hang out there before the actual ticket holders showed up. For some reason, even though the building was full, no one ever appeared to claim the seats. So we ended up in the 2nd row of the reserved seating, making me feel even better about not succumbing to the early inflated ticket prices. I was tempted to text message some of those scalpers with a simple “ROI?”

*The audience was an older crowd, with many veterans who looked like they had seen three decades of action on the front lines, starting in the Seventies when Springsteen was just beginning his rise to stardom. I would venture to say that there were even a number of grandparents, like the couple in front of us, who looked like they belonged more at the theater, than a rock show. While she was shaking it, he just sat there like he was watching Larry King Live.

*The music was really loud, almost to the point of hurting my ears. I’d brought a set of disposable earplugs with me just in case, remembering how Pete Townsend of The Who lost most of his hearing from too many years of over-amplified concerts. But with the plugs in, it sounded like someone was playing music in the room next door, so I opted to listen unfiltered. No big deal if my fillings were vibrating and I moved one step closer to fronting my own group, The What.

*The sound mix was kind of muddled and since most of the material Springsteen played was from his new album, I didn’t know the songs and couldn’t make out all the words. At one point, I was watching the show on the big high-definition screens hung above the stage, trying to read his lips. Finally, they put some of the lyrics up on the screen. It’s not a good sign when you need closed captions to sing along at a rock concert.

* Springsteen’s bandmate and wife, Patti Scialfa, seemed a little disinterested at times, staring off into the crowd, strumming away on her acoustic guitar. It must be surreal sometimes to be married to a rock star and work with him, too. Not to mention raise three teenage children. Wonder if the kids blast Hannah Montana on the stereo just to drive Mom and Dad nuts?

*There was a guy in front of us who must have been left over from a Grateful Dead show. He smoked so much pot during the concert that our entire section was exposed to second, third and fourth hand smoke. It was like we were all starring in the sequel to Waiting to Exhale. This guy was definitely part of the Green movement.

Once the band settled into their old hits, everyone was up dancing and singing, like we were all kids again. Even at 58, Springsteen is still The Boss and he brings it every night, taking the audience on a roller coaster ride of quiet ballads and pedal to the medal rock and roll. No matter many years ago these songs first entered the mainstream, it was a mini-revelation to see that they still have the power to move me, although thank goodness, we were Dancin’ in the Dark, ‘cause my moves ain’t what they used to be.

On our way home, my wife and I had that “we still got it” air of satisfaction. The feeling reminded of something George Carlin once said when asked about having long hair way back when. His reply, “it’s still long on the inside.”