Bruce Springsteen @ Giants Stadium, July 31

Sorry about the crappy shaky-cam footage, but it should at least suggest the kind of energy Springsteen shows can still generate. Bruce is 58 now, and his shows still stretch past the three-hour mark. "Badlands" closed the main set, so this was shot after about two and a half hours of solid rocking, and nobody seemed the least bit tired.

Bruce went into the crowd a couple times to grab signs from fans who had written their requests on sheets of poster board, and at various points in the show he would hold one up for the band - the rock version of calling an audible. I never thought I'd hear "Incident on 57th Street " played live, but that was one of the first signs he grabbed. Phenomenal. Or "Jersey Girl," one of my favorite Tom Waits songs, and one that Bruce has made his own. Or "Rosalita," which the band just recently started playing again, and which closed the show.

Check out Bruce's site for the remaining tour dates. You owe it to yourself to see these guys play at least once.

Full setlist:

Summertime Blues
Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out
Radio Nowhere
Prove It All Night
Two Hearts
The Promised Land
Spirit In The Night
Light Of Day
Brilliant Disguise
Pretty Flamingo
Blinded By The Light
Cadillac Ranch
Candy's Room
Because The Night
She's The One
Livin' In The Future
Mary's Place
Incident On 57th Street
The Rising
Last To Die
Long Walk Home

Born To Run
Bobby Jean
Dancing In The Dark
American Land
Jersey Girl

This is how you announce a tour

It's been almost ten years since I first saw Tom Waits in concert. I was in the back row of the Beacon Theatre here in New York, and at the start of the show, Tom burst through the back door - not five feet away - screaming through a megaphone and tossing handfuls of glitter into the crowd. That's correct: Tom Waits threw glitter on me.

This morning, Tom announced his 2008 Glitter and Doom Tour, as only he can (details here). I'm pondering a road trip. Who's in?

30 is the new lazy.

Spinning: Neko Case, The Tigers Have Spoken.

With my birthday about three weeks away, I figure it’s time to set aside my sloth (it’s only my fifth-favorite deadly sin anyway) and update this incredible burden site with a list of a few things I feel I will require to properly celebrate this momentous occasion. If you are in a position to make any of this happen, I strongly urge you to do so.

I want the bastards at Fox to pull an end-around and renew Arrested Development for at least another three seasons; I also want everyone involved in the production of Stacked to accidentally shoot themselves in the face.

I want NYC to smell like breakfast foods more often. And if this turns out to have been some sort of terrorist chemical-weapons plot, I would like to inform our peaceful and in-no-way-backward-or-bat-shit-insane Muslim brethren that I would happily bleed to death from the inside while basking in the aroma of vinegar-soaked hot wings. If I have a choice, I mean.

I want David Spade to finally do the honorable thing and trade places with Phil Hartman.

I want Sarah Silverman to win the Nobel Peace Prize.

I want Robin Williams to join the cast of Stacked. And Kenny G is welcome to compose the new theme song.

I want to see a 30-minute infomercial for this stuff.

I want to end my five-year quest to find the perfect T-shirt for my “Tom Waits Is My President” iron-on.

I want to be cleared of any obligations, work or otherwise, for the month of June 2006. During this time, I would like to be: 1.) In Germany, drinking beer and getting fat and watching the World Cup, or 2.) On my couch, drinking beer and getting fat and watching the World Cup. I also want England and the U.S. to meet in the final, where Michael Owen will score nine goals to propel England to an 11-3 win. (I'm all for American soccer growing in international stature, but we'd be such unbearable pricks if we won. Ooh, we suddenly care about soccer! No.)

Okay, that’s enough for now. Maybe I’ll think of some more later. In the meantime, you can prove you really love me and buy me all this shit.