The Boss is divine; the crowd is swine

Geoff Carter

Tuesday, May 30, 2000 | 9:17 a.m.

Don't worry about Bruce Springsteen, kids. He's fine. He seemed to enjoy himself plenty during his Las Vegas debut Saturday at the MGM Grand Garden. Ditto the rest of the E-Street Band, particularly drummer Max Weinberg; when that boy goes back to Conan, the host's going to get his spine rattled but good.

The band played not one, but two versions of Doc Pomus' deathless "Viva Las Vegas." "Darlington County," "Two Hearts" and "Born to Run" were all just as you'd expect them -- lean, tough, uncompromising and exactly as you remember them from that scratchy vinyl of yours. Springsteen's deep-hearted roar hasn't dropped one microtone since 1975; the Big Man is still the Big Man; Miami Steve still holds his degree in guitar heroism.

Personally, I could have done without a toughened version of "Atlantic City" -- Springsteen's guitar-and-voice was a confessional, never meant for the epic E-Street treatment. "The River" was a bit on the slow side. But these are quibbles; the man is as vital a rock figure as he's ever been, and it was good to see him in a place I never thought I'd see him -- in the very belly of the whale, trying to burn his way out.

No, Springsteen was fine; survived Vegas handily. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to see him back here, in some capacity, inside of two years. And now that I've given The Boss my notice, I can turn on you -- the hands-down worst concert crowd I've ever mixed with.

Look, I know you were excited. I know it was a great night to be a Boomer -- what do you know, honey, my "Tour '84" T-shirt still fits! You drank much tequila, borrowed outfits from your 17-year-old and/or put on your best hair (don't fret; I'll be joining you shortly). But nearly all of you behaved very badly. You should have borrowed a few pointers from your teen -- at least they've been to a concert within the past five years.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Don't use the festival atmosphere of a concert to justify bad behavior. In case you're fuzzy on the definition of bad behavior, these real-life vignettes pulled from the Springsteen show should wipe the confusion from your mind:

Throwing up in your seat is bad behavior. In fact, throwing up at all is bad behavior. Aren't you there to enjoy the music?

Getting into a fistfight with some hapless dope who accidentally spilled his yard-long margarita on your wife is bad behavior. Imagine the look on my face as I broke up a gangland battle between two short, bald pugs in khakis. I should have let you two morons slug it out; God knows you wouldn't have done each other any real damage, but I was trying to uphold the city's honor.

Air guitar makes for flying elbows; flying elbows make for sharp pokes in the ribs.

Also, knocking people over on the way to your seat, shoving the person in front of you when they fail to sit down fast enough and screaming in someone's ear are all bad.

You won't heed any of this advice, of course. Brooooce will return, and you'll be every bit the drunken jerks you were at his successful Las Vegas debut. The only difference is, I won't be there. My sense of self-preservation is too strong, and getting hurt over rock 'n' roll is stupid.