Affichage des articles dont le libellé est Springsteen. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est Springsteen. Afficher tous les articles
samedi 11 avril 2020
lundi 23 septembre 2019
dimanche 23 septembre 2018
Selfie #234 (Unbirthday #24)
The late lensman David Gahr captured this mirror reflection of Bruce Springsteen in a hotel room in the mid-1970s. Tapped by Columbia Records designer John Berg to shoot cover art for Springsteen’s second album, “The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle,” Gahr befriended the rising star and photographed him on and offstage. © Estate of David Gahr/courtesy of Morrison Hotel Gallery.
[Bruce Springsteen, un an de plus, Bob Fosse, Bourvil, Neruda, et Charyn clic-clic.]
mercredi 23 septembre 2015
Selfie #73 (Unbirthday #24 repetita)
Foto: Lynn Goldsmith.
[Bruce Springsteen, 66. Le 23 septembre Springsteen donc, Neruda, et Charyn clic-clic.]
mardi 23 septembre 2014
Balnéaire #14 (Unbirthday #24 encore)
Everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back.
Springsteen 1982
[Bruce Springsteen, 65. Le 23 septembre Springsteen donc, Neruda, et Charyn clic-clac.]
jeudi 3 octobre 2013
lundi 23 septembre 2013
lundi 22 avril 2013
Tramps like us, baby (we were born to run) : a Very Merry Unbirthday #117
- You fooled 'em, Chief ! You fooled 'em. You fooled 'em all. Goddamn. What are we doin' here Chief ? Huh ? What's us two guys doin' in this fuckin' place ? Let's get out of here. Out !
- Canada.
- Canada. I'll be there before these son-of-a-bitches know what hit 'em.
[Jack Nicholson, 76 ans aujourd'hui - 22 avril, clic-clic, Saint-Alexandre, Alex aussi.]
vendredi 23 septembre 2011
jeudi 3 février 2011
Ex-fan des sixties
I play Buddy Holly every night before I go on ; that keeps me honest.
[Le 3 février 1959, dans le même avion que Ritchie Valens et al. Et bien sûr, le 3 février 1989, John Cassavetes - le type clic-clic qui vous laisse sur le carreau.]
jeudi 25 février 2010
Run till we drop, baby we'll never go back
Memorial Coliseum, Phoenix, Az, July 8th 1978
In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines
Sprung from cages out on highway 9,
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected
and steppin' out over the line
Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we're young
'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run
Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend
I want to guard your dreams and visions
Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims
and strap your hands across my engines
Together we could break this trap
We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back
Will you walk with me out on the wire
'Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider
But I gotta find out how it feels
I want to know if love is wild
girl I want to know if love is real
Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard
The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors
And the boys try to look so hard
The amusement park rises bold and stark
Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist
I wanna die with you Wendy on the streets tonight
In an everlasting kiss
The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive
Everybody's out on the run tonight
but there's no place left to hide
Together Wendy we'll live with the sadness
I'll love you with all the madness in my soul
Someday girl I don't know when
we're gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go
and we'll walk in the sun
But till then tramps like us
baby we were born to run
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