I used to think I was over my startup failure. That was three years ago, ancient history, right? Yet every time I pitched a new idea to someone, my hands would shake. Every investor meeting felt like walking into that same room where I had to tell my team we were shutting down. My body remembered what my mind tried to forget. That's when Bruce Springsteen's words hit me like a freight train: "The past is never the past. It is always present. And you'd better reckon with it in your life and in your daily experience, or it will get you. It will get you really bad."
The Warfield opened on May 13, 1922, as Loew's Warfield - a " grand dame of a theatre" dedicated to film and vaudeville with a capacity of over 2,650 and a 33-foot-deep stage. The venue was the 300th theater commissioned by Marcus Loew and the 26th opened by his company within 18 months. The Warfield was built by local architect Gustave Albert Lansburgh; the early '20s were a boom time for Lansburgh, who simultaneously designed the neighboring Golden Gate Theatre (which also opened in 1922).
He sings the names of the dead haltingly, as though he is reading them off a screen-which, judging from the recording-studio footage in the song's lyric video, he probably is. The song is about the news, but it is also, perhaps unintentionally, about the moment of lag when we absorb the names and images, when we try to assimilate atrocity into narrative.