June 2- 8, 2005

music

Who's The Boss?

BRILLIANT DISGUISE: Matt Ryan saw his bookings thin out once Springsteen started dissing George W. Bush.

A Canadian Springsteen impersonator is reborn in the U.S.A.

by A.D. Amorosi

Two Tuesdays ago, Bruce Springsteen attacked the Tower as a solo act. In that famously hearty rasp, a woebegone Bruce took on a stark litany of tunes new, old (most surprisingly "Iceman") and borrowed (Suicide's "Dream Baby Dream"). To hear the lonely sordidness of "Reno" and its central character's salvation at the hands of a whore was dire yet magical; as if Bruce — released by the spare sound of pump organ, piano, acoustic guitar and harmonica — had finally freed himself from convention. Whether it was songs of God and will or shaken faith, Springsteen had finally, at 55, made the transition from E Street walking cheetah to urban Hemingway, from boy to man.

That man might've been Tom Waits. But still.

Point is, this was not the Bruce of "Glory Days," no tight-jeaned wiggle or fist-pumping or leg-cramped ballet.

That's all been left to Matt Ryan.

Two Tuesdays ago in Las Vegas, Ryan and his E Streetish ensemble worked out those very moves to the strains of "Thunder Road " and "Born in the U.S.A." You know, the Springsteen songs MHNC (Meatheads, Not Critics) want to hear. Ryan — a 35-year-old Canadian — wears flag-covered denim and does windmills leaning against a version of Clarence Clemmons, in the show Bruce in the U.S.A.

Produced by Jerry Peluso, this tribute to old school rah-rousing Springsteen is meant to suspend disbelief.

"Remember, whether it's because they don't like big concerts or can't afford tickets, there's Bruce fans that never saw him in concert," says Peluso, a producer for Animal Planet and The Travel Channel as well as The Fab Four Beatles tribute. "We're trying to reach out to fans who love Bruce's records but never saw him play, give them a taste of what the real Bruce is like as well as give die-hards the Bruce they love."

Ryan plays it poker-straight, approximating Bruce with alarming exactitude. "Though I've tried to distance myself, being Bruce is not hard for me," laughs the husky-voiced Ryan. Though he's had a varied career of his own — original piano-pop, country and metal, writing commercial jingles — Ryan was always tres Bruce.

""You know who you look like? Who you sound like?' That's all he ever heard," says Peluso of his charge.

Not the biggest Bruce fan growing up, Ryan learned to appreciate The Boss while laid up after a car accident in 1993. "All he had was Bruce, the inspiration, the music," says Peluso. A fan was born, one who embraced his inner Bruceness by phoning the Vegas revue, Legends of Concert, and becoming their Springsteen.

"Matt's so respectful to the character, the audience loses themselves," enthuses Peluso, who met Ryan not long after he joined Legends. "The most amazing thing is that people approach us at the end of the show and say, "We never realized that Bruce had so many great songs.' Then they tell us they're going to buy a Bruce record. In a way, we're on tour for him, selling his records."

That is amazing.

Ryan and Peluso have received unofficial OKs from the Springsteen camp with visits from Clemmons, Missus Bruce (Patti Scialfa), and even a dedication from Bruce during a Giants Stadium set on The Rising tour.

"Here's to the guy imitating me in Atlantic City" is how that went.

Ryan isn't stretching to put on Bruce's honking tone. The acting isn't Robert DeNiro. But to capture the Bruce minutiae, he takes care to flex his hand the way Bruce does on "The Rising," times his grunts to mimic obscure bootlegs, and masters five different versions of each song to satisfy tapeheads.

Still, there are bumps along Thunder Road. Like a Vegas pal of Ryan's — "Michael Jackson" — made unemployable by the recent sex scandal. Acting gig or not, no one wants to hire even a faux child molester.

After Springsteen dissed Bush, Ryan and Peluso found bookings thinned. "When Bruce started his Rock the Vote, lots of theaters — especially in red states — wouldn't book us," says Peluso.

Still, with Ryan, "Bruce" is an acting job first.

"There's no costume with Bruce," says Ryan. "No wigs. Just subtleties; it's all in the eyes, the face, the pain. Just when you think you have him, there's more."

Though Ryan mostly essays the '80s Bruce of Born in the U.S.A. , each phase is executed with icy precision lest they feel the wrath of the hardcore Bruceheads.

"We respect the fans and we respect Bruce," says Peluso.

Beyond respect, Ryan is offering fans the E Street-shuffling Bruce, an alternative to the Springsteen of right now, the one who soliloquizes solo. "Now, I've got to go out and get a pump organ," jokes Peluso.

Bruce in the U.S.A., Thu., June 2, 9 p.m., $10, Theater of Living Arts, 334 South St., 215-922-1011, www.theateroflivingarts.net.