Broccoli For Miles And Miles And Miles And Miles And Miles … Oh Yeah!
The Original
Bruce Springsteen:
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The Cover Songs Competition
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Jason Ringenberg vs. U2
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Jason Ringenberg:
U2:
Oh the disharmony! Much like Harlan County there are no neutrals here. Only one cover tune will live to play another day and it is your solemn responsibility to decide which one prevails. So tell me … Which Side Are You On?!!?
Also, keep in mind that if you should spontaneously self-actualize while playing a cover then you could – and probably should – nominate it for Top 10 (i.e. “Impeccable”) consideration.
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Votes can be cast up to seven days from the day and time of the original post.
Disclaimer: Votes cast from Florida may or may not be counted.
cover me impressed 
The Scorch-Boss’ version could use a little more verve (actually any amount of verve would have helped). It’s a nice tribute but drags too much.
On the other hand, Bono’s pace seems a bit rushed; like he’s hurrying through the song to catch a flight to Somalia or something. I don’t know. Many seem to think that Bono is the second-coming of the Lord. So I guess he’s got my vote, it being Sunday and all.
I was wondering about the source of the Jason Ringenberg cover since I have all his solo CDs (except for the pair of kids’ CDs under the “Farmer Jason” alias). Appears to be from a Springsteen tribute. While I’m prepared to agree this version is rather lackluster, I don’t want word to reach Jason that I voted against him. He remains one of my favorite artists and one of the most criminally under-appreciated guys in the business.
Jason’s version of My Home Town does come from a 2-disc tribute to Springsteen titled “Light of Day”; and a pretty good tribute it is. I had never heard any of his solo work before but Jason & The Scorchers were certainly a musical force to be reckoned with. I saw them quite a few times live and they always rewarded me with high-energy, great shows. Absolutely Sweet Marie might just be the best Dylan cover of the 3,000 or so out there!
Love Jason Ringenberg. U2’s version was actually much better than I expected. The nice melody was intact although I agree it seemed rushed. I don’t want to deny U2 the occasional heights the band hit, their peaks were strong, but in general they bother me. Bono is an intelligent guy that is good friends with amazing people like Dylan and is incredibly articulate, knows his music history, but on stage he is such a diva that Mariah Carey blushes and the self importance of U2’s schtick rarely is backed up by its quality.
Well Pete, you pretty much summed-up my feelings on U2 as well. They’ve been around a long time and have produced some great music, especially early on in their run. There’s certainly nothing embarrassing about being a big fan. They are a solid band. But the level of esteem at which many hold them baffles me. And you’re again right that my reluctance to embrace might have as much to do with personality as music. I applaud Bono for having his heart in the right place and trying to do some positive things with his money and acclaim. But God Dammit he loves to preen and dominate the camera. A good friend should really enlighten him that his attire just screams, TURNIP-WEEZER (and I don’t use that phrase lightly)! Elton John just called and he wants his matching paisley scarf and cummerbund back (he paid good coin for it at the Liberace estate sale).
One last complaint. I feel strongly (and once tried to legislate into law) that a self-respecting serious band should be allowed a maximum of one and only one member who is referred to in the singular form. I understand that even with such common sense legislation U2 could very well circumvent the statute by claiming “The Edge” is actually a two-word epithet. But such manipulation of the law would only serve to infuriate and, hopefully, lead to public censure as well as the forced removal of Billy Joel’s vocal chords.
When told just right (a solid Irish accent is required) a pretty funny joke:
In the middle of a show Bono pauses and begins slowly and reverently clapping his hands about once every thirty seconds. This goes on for a few minutes before he steps to the mike and solemnly states, “Every time I clap my hands a child dies in Africa”. He steps back and continues the ritual. A few more claps ensue before a drunken Irishman in the front row can no longer hold back, screaming, “Someone stop the feckin’ bastard before he kills any more!”.