I attended my first Bruce Springsteen concert, in utero, in 1989. Raised in New Jersey by a record store owning father who has seen Springsteen live 234 times, there’s no denying that the Boss’s music is an essential component of my character. Much to my mother’s chagrin, I have also been irrevocably influenced by The Simpsons, which aired its unimpeachable peak seasons during my impressionable youth. So, when Hank Azaria, the voice of countless Simpsons characters such as Moe Syzlak and Chief Wiggum, announced that he had formed a Springsteen cover band, I could not buy my ticket fast enough. (All profits went to Hank Azaria and Kate Wright’s 4 Thru 9 Foundation for education and social justice.) Azaria told Rolling Stone about his desire to maintain a Bruce impression for an entire set, a daunting task and possibly a terrible idea. I had to see how this was going to turn out. Could Azaria, a talented impressionist but by no means a rock star, take on the role of his idol and make it his own? Would this be a genuine tribute, or simply a vanity exercise from a fabulously wealthy celebrity? What balance would he strike between sincerity and parody?
The debut public performance of Hank Azaria and the EZ Street Band, which sold out Le Poisson Rouge in Lower Manhattan, was a lively and heartfelt 80-minute celebration—not just of Springstren’s music, but of the impact it has had on Azaria’s life. Azaria used the character of the Boss to revisit his triumphs and exorcize some personal demons, telling his own story in Bruce’s voice.
From the outset, Azaria made it clear that he aimed to capture a particular spirit rather than to disappear into a character. He walked out on stage in a familiar 2000s Bruce look (black jeans, a tight black Henley shirt) and addressed the audience in his Bruce impression, but the words and sentiment were his own. As his young eight-piece band vamped behind him, he poked fun at the show’s very premise as “a very late mid-life crisis.” He’d kicked off this experiment months ago with a rendition of “Glory Days” at his 60th birthday party. This song playfully mocking the act of reminiscing about the past became a suitable tone-setter for a night of semi-ironic nostalgia.
From there, the band kicked almost immediately into a live Bruce staple, “Prove It All Night” off 1978’s Darkness on the Edge of Town. This was the EZ Street Band’s first opportunity to show off, and to demonstrate that, unlike Azaria, they were not there to do straight impressions of their corresponding E Street members. Saxophonist Evan Harris is a much cleaner and more precise player than the late, great, Clarence Clemons, but in fairness, practically no one sounded like the Big Man. The same could be said for lead guitarist Tim Basom, who ripped a solid solo in the general shape of the familiar Bruce lick, but not quite in Springsteen’s singing buzzsaw tone. In both cases, this is for the best. Clemons’ deliciously dirty sax sound is inimitable, and Springsteen is one of rock’s most underrated guitar technicians. Trying to match them note for note would be folly. (Of the band, pianist Adam Kromelow was the most note perfect.)
Naturally, Azaria also lacks the rapport with his band that comes from decades of touring, friendship, and strife. According to him, most of the band was unfamiliar with the Bruce catalog when rehearsals began (bassist Jeff Koch was already a fan), and are skilled professionals playing a gig rather than lifelong fans living out a dream. Azaria’s main foil on stage for this debut was backup singer Hannah Juliano, who is also his vocal coach.
What made the EZ Street experience feel most genuine were the stories that Azaria spun before or during songs. Springsteen often contextualizes the music with lively tall tales or haunting recollections of his fraught relationship with his father. Azaria has his own take on this, setting the stage by reflecting on Bruce’s music itself, and on his personal narrative. He relates the set’s one and only ballad, “Darkness on the Edge of Town,” to the lowest moments of his struggle with alcoholism. Here, he makes a lyrical substitution—instead of “I lost my money and I lost my wife,” Azaria sings “I lost my faith when I lost my wife,” referring to his marriage to actress Helen Hunt.
For the most part, however, Azaria’s set was relentlessly joyful. He set up “She’s the One” off of Born to Run with the story of meeting his second wife Kate at a party with Paul Rudd, who had played Azaria’s romantic rival on Friends. Azaria vowed “not to lose another gorgeous blonde to Ant-Man” and set off to talk to her. Azaria dropped the Bruce voice to introduce “Growin’ Up” with a long and comical story about the two occasions when he met his rock & roll hero and completely embarrassed himself.
As the set progressed, the song selection got less personal and more perfunctory, leaving heavily on the songs that must be played at a Springsteen concert. Towards the end, Azaria allowed the audience to vote between four less essential picks, including the fairly recent “Wrecking Ball,” but the crowd overwhelmingly chose to hear “Jungleland,” the dramatic closing track of Born to Run. No songs released after 1985 were included on the setlist, though an ecstatic Azaria seemed game to tackle much more of the songbook in future shows. For my part, I would have much rather heard Azaria test his dramatic chops against “The River” or go full preacher mode with “Land of Hope and Dreams” than to hear a B+ cover of “Born in the USA.”
Structurally, the performance was a fair approximation of the pace and rhythm of an E Street show, albeit about two hours shorter. Certain long-standing traditions were honored, such as the crowd singing the first verse to “Hungry Heart” and the band receiving eloquent individual intros during “Rosalita.” Azaria has clearly studied Bruce’s live vocals carefully but does not have the Boss’s vocal range, singing most songs several keys down and bailing out of the demanding final verse of “Jungleland” by transitioning cleanly into “Rosalita”—the most glaring reminder that this was a highly skilled hobbyist rather than a seasoned rock singer.
A real E Street Band show can fill me with a bliss usually reserved for believers in prayer or inspire me to believe that together we can build the just America that we were promised. I would never expect this from Hank Azaria and the EZ Street Band, or any tribute band. But Azaria did capture an essential element that Springsteen has expounded about at length in interviews and his autobiography: the pursuit of pure, unspoiled fun. Part of what makes Springsteen such a magnetic performer is his ability to convince stadiums full of people, night after night, that he is having the time of his life. Hank Azaria did not need to work hard to convince me of this. For this Emmy-winning actor, singing Bruce Springsteen songs in a small but packed New York rock club was a dream come true.
