A Politically Charged Bruce Fires A Salvo Of Rock and Roll Damnation to Trump

★★★★★ (5/5)

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN & THE E-STREET BAND PERFORMING AT MANCHESTER’S COOP LIVE
PHOTOCREDIT: JOHN HAYHURST

The lights go out, the room erupts and a single spotlight picks out the outline of a battle weary Bruce Springsteen standing there guitar slung over his shoulder and when he speaks, the room goes silent.

“Good evening, it’s great to be in Manchester and back in the UK. Welcome to the Land of Hope & Dreams tour. The mighty E Street band is here tonight to call upon the righteous power of art, of music, of rock and roll in dangerous times. In my home, the America I love, the America I’ve written about and has been a beacon of hope and liberty for 250 years, is currently in the hands of a corrupt, incompetent and treasonous administration. Tonight, we ask all of you to believe in democracy and the best of our American spirit to rise with us: raise your voices against authoritarianism and let freedom ring. One...Two...Three...Four…”

From the moment Springsteen strums the first notes of Land of Hope and Dreams, the crowd is right there with him — voices raised, hearts open. It’s not just a concert; it feels like a reckoning. This is one of the most politically charged sets he’s ever done. Just a few songs in, he spits out a line that lands like a hammer: “This is for our dear leader,” he says, bitterly, before launching into the live debut of Rainmaker — a scathing track about a conman who feeds on people’s desperation. You can feel his anger, and it cuts through every note, tangled with grief.

Then comes Long Walk Home, and something shifts. He introduces it as “a prayer for my country,” and suddenly it’s quieter, more intimate. There’s pain in his voice as he sings “Tryin’ to figure out what went wrong,” like he’s carrying the weight of a country that’s lost its way. When he strips down House of a Thousand Guitars to a raw solo version, the line “the criminal clown has stolen the throne” sends the place into a roar — half cheer, half howl.

The setlist feels different tonight — more urgent, more deliberate. Older songs reappear with new context. Murder Incorporated makes a surprise return, its grit now aimed squarely at today’s injustices. And songs like Youngstown and My City in Ruins echo with Celtic and gospel undercurrents, protest songs for a country on edge.

And behind it all is the E Street Band — 18 musicians pouring everything into it like their lives depend on it. At times, it really feels like they do. Before My City in Ruins, Springsteen pauses, takes stock. “There’s some very weird, strange and dangerous shit going on out there right now,” he warns, and he’s not vague about who he means. Trump gets called out directly — “unfit president” “rogue government” “sadistic pleasure” — and it just keeps going. He lists the rollbacks, the betrayals, the cruelty. And when he says, “This is all happening now” repeating it over and over, the whole arena falls still.

For the first stretch, levity is hard to come by. But it does come — slowly, defiantly. There’s joy in Hungry Heart, where Bruce runs the stage like he’s still 25, the crowd belting every word with him. Jake Clemons’ sax solo lifts the roof, offering a shot of relief. Dancing in the Dark, Born to Run, Because the Night — they don’t just entertain; they remind us what we’re fighting for. Even Born in the USA, so often misread, is razor-clear tonight.

Then, in Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out, Bruce tosses his pinstripe vest, soaked through and glowing white under the lights. He dives into the crowd, sips a fan’s pint, throws an arm around someone, and for a moment, it’s pure connection. There’s the usual joy of him and Stevie Van Zandt riffing side-by-side, or those perfectly timed guitar swings with Nils Lofgren. It’s magic. But it’s not the point.

Because it’s the message that stays with you.

He closes with Dylan’s Chimes of Freedom — a song he hasn’t played on tour since ’88 — and it lands like a benediction. Earlier, he said: “We will survive this moment. I have hope.” And somehow, after three hours of rage, soul, sweat, and song, you believe him.

Some people might ask why he chose Manchester, not an American city, for this kind of statement. But sitting there, it’s obvious — what’s happening in the U.S. could happen anywhere. That’s the point.

He closes with a quote from James Baldwin: “In this world there isn't as much humanity as one would like, but there's enough.” He looks out over the crowd, takes a breath, and smiles.

And for a night — maybe longer — that feels true.