Bruce Springsteen By Don Henry Ford Jr. While some say an artist of Springsteen’s stature doesn’t belong in our world, I beg to differ. Just because an artist achieves success in the larger arena of popular music doesn’t mean he can’t or isn’t part of the Americana movement.   Are we to throw out Johnny Cash, Waylon and Willie, Robert Earl Keen and Pat Green because they too found success—make an exclusive club of only those that fail to be accepted by traditional circles? Or are we to invite them in where they belong and raise the standard—achieve the credibility we desire? In my book all of these get included. Along with the Johns—people like Mellencamp, Prine, Hiatt, and Fogerty. And maybe a few others that don’t come to mind right now. For my money there is no other artist that better represents what it is to be an American. In Bruce Springsteen’s music you will find the roots and branches and the soul of Americana music. A man that sees and feels and breathes the spirit of our country; chronicles our fears, doubts, triumphs and passions like no other. The man may have been born in Jersey but I proclaim him an honorary Texan, if he’ll have us. (I think he will too—a couple of the songs on his latest speak of Texas.) As I write this, Bruce’s latest, Devils and Dust, plays in the background. The only word that comes to mind right now is great. This one’s acoustical and has both a CD and a DVD on the same disc. It’s soft, introspective and spiritual—the kind of album I suspect won’t sell. People looking for more of the hard driving sound he’s famous for. Money isn’t everything. Bruce Springsteen took me through some tough times. I don’t think I’d be the man I am absent his contribution. In fact, I know I wouldn’t be. I listened to him while I struggled with wild and destructive desires of youth. I learned of love and hate and trust and deception and greed and sharing while he strummed and shouted his way through life in the background. He struggled alongside me and shared his experience with his words and his music. Sounds like he still struggles a bit and he still shares. Bruce sees. The things most ignore. And then he raises the mirror and forces us to do the same—to see what this country really is—a wonderful country made of diverse peoples—but a country with flaws. Bruce teaches of love and life and tears and joy and sorrow and pain, of doubts and fear and balls-to-the-wall ears-laid-back plunges into life with abandon. How nothing good comes without risk, and that to truly experience the greatest blessings one must also risk tasting loss and defeat, sometimes even destruction. Bruce is not of the elite class. His songs speak to the common man—the workers, the bikers, the cowboys, the soldiers, and the single moms, women of the night, young lovers, even an outlaw in a stolen car. Preachers, priests, homosexual lovers, saints and sinners—sometimes in the same skin. Bruce Springsteen is a model for what I hope the Americana movement should be about. Let’s welcome him in with open arms. We have everything to gain if we do and a hell of a lot to lose if we don’t. I am not going to waste a lot of time telling you about Bruce for we all know the story. I just want to say thanks. You have been a big brother to me.