Grateful Dead

Springsteen cribs from Dylan, Elvis & Orbison—builds Born to Run from fan notes

Bruce Springsteen, more listener than legend, never hides behind mythology. He routinely nods to the trio fueling the grit and grandeur of Born to Run—Bob Dylan, Elvis Presley, and Roy Orbison.

Dylan’s lyrical density, Presley’s stage swagger, and Orbison’s operatic drama each feed the album’s fever-dream Americana. Springsteen crafts ambition from admiration, sculpting borrowed intensity into his own blueprint of rock romanticism.

Springsteen files another solo dispatch—quiet, persistent, and between cycles

Bruce Springsteen wraps up work on a new solo album, adding another chapter to his already extensive recording catalogue. Positioned quietly between his larger creative cycles, this latest effort arrives with the same understated persistence that has marked his non-E-Street excursions.

A third volume of the Tracks box set is in progress, carefully curated from his archives, along with a fresh covers collection. Meanwhile, whispers of a solo tour hover in the background—neither confirmed nor denied, just methodically contemplated.

Springsteen parks “Racing in the Street” at Brian Wilson’s garage one last time

Bruce Springsteen tips his hat to Brian Wilson, calling him the maestro and bidding him farewell with restrained reverence. He credits Wilson's influence as pivotal, admitting candidly that without him, "Racing in the Street" might never have idled into gear.

From Springsteen’s perspective, Wilson’s legacy isn’t just musical—it’s personal, a “lovely lasting debt” etched across the E Street Band’s body of work, paid not with fanfare but acknowledgment.

Springsteen dusts off “Sunday Love,” a forgotten flicker from the Twilight Hours

Bruce Springsteen presents “Sunday Love,” a track excavated from the vaults of his unreleased Twilight Hours album, born during the Western Stars period. Released as the first preview from the forthcoming Tracks II box set, the song resurfaces without ceremony but not without consequence.

Absent from commercial release until now, the track offers a glimpse into a quieter corner of Springsteen’s prolific output, one he chose to let gather dust for nearly a decade.

Springsteen watches handsome doppelgänger nail Nebraska-era blues—sans feedback

Bruce Springsteen watches Jeremy Allen White portray him in Deliver Me From Nowhere and quips, “I don’t remember being that good looking.” The film revisits 1982, as Springsteen records Nebraska—an austere, potentially career-threatening pivot—and frames the story as a character drama rather than a musical epic.

White trains exhaustively and does his own vocals. Springsteen, a frequent on-set presence, abstains from interfering, joking that giving notes might have “broken” White mid-performance.