Tonight, my fiancee and I will venture to lowly Concord, Calif., to rock out with Bruce Springsteen. I was a huge fan of Bruce when I was six in 1986. But then he fell off the planet (it seems), only to come back with that Philadelphia song. (Not to mention, I took a hiatus from enjoying music after the rise and fall of New Kids on the Block. Read: sports.)

In any (and every) sense, Springsteen is a legend. And, in my humble opinion, his acoustic, er, any acoustic (including Grateful Dead, e.g., Harper College, Dick's Picks Volume 8), beats electric any day of the week. Except Sunday.