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-THE BORACAY ISLAND LIFE-
THE DOOMSDAY DJ:
TUNES FOR THE POST APOCALYPSE
Even Great Artists Make Bad Records!
This Is The Story Of Bruce Springsteen's "Human Touch"
When Human Touch was released in March 1992, it arrived burdened with expectations that few albums could survive. It was Bruce Springsteen’s first full studio release in five years, following Tunnel of Love—and his first major statement after dismantling the E Street Band, a move that fundamentally altered his artistic ecosystem. What followed was not a collapse of talent, but a collision between timing, choices, and identity making 1992's Human Touch, the flattest, most unconvincing album of his whole career.
The roots of Human Touch go back to Springsteen’s growing creative isolation in the late 1980s. After Tunnel of Love, he retreated inward, grappling with divorce, new relationships, and a changing sense of self. Rather than processing these emotions through the familiar, friction-filled dynamic of the E Street Band, Springsteen chose control. He relocated to Los Angeles, built songs largely alone, and hired session musicians rather than collaborators with shared history.
The E Street Band had never been merely a backing group—they were co-authors of feel, tension, and release. Removing them stripped Springsteen’s music of its most effective editor. Without that push-and-pull, Human Touch became an album where very few ideas were challenged, refined, or rejected.
Springsteen also chose quantity over curation. He was writing prolifically and recording compulsively, convinced that documenting emotional states as they occurred was more important than distilling them. Instead of shaping a lean statement, he released Human Touch simultaneously with Lucky Town, presenting both as complementary emotional documents. In practice, the split diluted focus and emphasized excess.
Artistically, Human Touch suffers from a production style that feels stiff, cautious, and oddly anonymous. Though the album strives for intimacy, its polished early-’90s sonics—processed drums, glossy keyboards, restrained guitar tones—undercut the raw emotional access Springsteen seemed to be seeking. The record often sounds more worked on than lived in.
Lyrically, Springsteen turns inward almost obsessively, but without his usual gift for universal storytelling. Songs focus on interior conflict, relationship analysis, and emotional uncertainty, yet frequently lack concrete imagery or narrative propulsion. Where classic Springsteen transformed personal pain into shared myth, Human Touch often stops at confession. Even the title track, intended as a mission statement about connection and vulnerability, leans on repetition and abstraction rather than dramatic tension. Across the album, moments that might have benefitted from ambiguity or restraint are instead explained, analyzed, and emotionally overexposed.
Commercially, Human Touch debuted strongly due to Springsteen’s stature, but interest dropped rapidly. The album sold far less than any Springsteen release since the 1970s, and its singles failed to embed themselves into the cultural bloodstream. Critics were divided, but the dominant narrative quickly emerged: Bruce Springsteen, once the voice of collective experience, now sounded isolated and unsure.
The accompanying tour reinforced this perception. The new band was professional but lacked chemistry; performances felt technically competent yet emotionally distant. Fans didn’t reject Springsteen—but many struggled to recognize him. In a rock landscape shifting toward grunge and alternative authenticity, Human Touch sounded careful and self-conscious rather than urgent or revelatory.
Why the Album Failed Artistically
The failure of Human Touch wasn’t due to weak songwriting ability or lack of sincerity. It failed because Springsteen made a series of choices that removed the very mechanisms that once sharpened his instincts. In retrospect, Human Touch is less a bad album than an unnecessary one—a document of transition that should have remained private or heavily distilled. Its missteps, however, were instructive. The experience eventually led Springsteen back to narrative economy, band chemistry, and thematic focus, culminating in the creative rebirth of The Ghost of Tom Joad, The Rising, and later reunions with the E Street Band.
Human Touch stands today as a reminder that even great artists can falter when they confuse autonomy with freedom. The album captures Bruce Springsteen searching for connection—ironically, by cutting himself off from the very people and processes that once made that connection possible. The album is generally disliked by Springsteen fans, and in 2012 was ranked last among Springsteen's albums by the online magazine Nerve. Regarding the bad reputation of Human Touch and Lucky Town among his fans, Springsteen said: "I tried it [writing happy songs] in the early '90s and it didn't work; the public didn't like it."
"Pure signal,no noise"
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Author ✍️/ Photographer📸
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Even Great Artists Make Bad Records!
This Is The Story Of Bruce Springsteen's "Human Touch"
When Human Touch was released in March 1992, it arrived burdened with expectations that few albums could survive. It was Bruce Springsteen’s first full studio release in five years, following Tunnel of Love—and his first major statement after dismantling the E Street Band, a move that fundamentally altered his artistic ecosystem. What followed was not a collapse of talent, but a collision between timing, choices, and identity making 1992's Human Touch, the flattest, most unconvincing album of his whole career.
The roots of Human Touch go back to Springsteen’s growing creative isolation in the late 1980s. After Tunnel of Love, he retreated inward, grappling with divorce, new relationships, and a changing sense of self. Rather than processing these emotions through the familiar, friction-filled dynamic of the E Street Band, Springsteen chose control. He relocated to Los Angeles, built songs largely alone, and hired session musicians rather than collaborators with shared history.
The E Street Band had never been merely a backing group—they were co-authors of feel, tension, and release. Removing them stripped Springsteen’s music of its most effective editor. Without that push-and-pull, Human Touch became an album where very few ideas were challenged, refined, or rejected.
Springsteen also chose quantity over curation. He was writing prolifically and recording compulsively, convinced that documenting emotional states as they occurred was more important than distilling them. Instead of shaping a lean statement, he released Human Touch simultaneously with Lucky Town, presenting both as complementary emotional documents. In practice, the split diluted focus and emphasized excess.
Artistically, Human Touch suffers from a production style that feels stiff, cautious, and oddly anonymous. Though the album strives for intimacy, its polished early-’90s sonics—processed drums, glossy keyboards, restrained guitar tones—undercut the raw emotional access Springsteen seemed to be seeking. The record often sounds more worked on than lived in.
Lyrically, Springsteen turns inward almost obsessively, but without his usual gift for universal storytelling. Songs focus on interior conflict, relationship analysis, and emotional uncertainty, yet frequently lack concrete imagery or narrative propulsion. Where classic Springsteen transformed personal pain into shared myth, Human Touch often stops at confession. Even the title track, intended as a mission statement about connection and vulnerability, leans on repetition and abstraction rather than dramatic tension. Across the album, moments that might have benefitted from ambiguity or restraint are instead explained, analyzed, and emotionally overexposed.
Commercially, Human Touch debuted strongly due to Springsteen’s stature, but interest dropped rapidly. The album sold far less than any Springsteen release since the 1970s, and its singles failed to embed themselves into the cultural bloodstream. Critics were divided, but the dominant narrative quickly emerged: Bruce Springsteen, once the voice of collective experience, now sounded isolated and unsure.
The accompanying tour reinforced this perception. The new band was professional but lacked chemistry; performances felt technically competent yet emotionally distant. Fans didn’t reject Springsteen—but many struggled to recognize him. In a rock landscape shifting toward grunge and alternative authenticity, Human Touch sounded careful and self-conscious rather than urgent or revelatory.
Why the Album Failed Artistically
The failure of Human Touch wasn’t due to weak songwriting ability or lack of sincerity. It failed because Springsteen made a series of choices that removed the very mechanisms that once sharpened his instincts. In retrospect, Human Touch is less a bad album than an unnecessary one—a document of transition that should have remained private or heavily distilled. Its missteps, however, were instructive. The experience eventually led Springsteen back to narrative economy, band chemistry, and thematic focus, culminating in the creative rebirth of The Ghost of Tom Joad, The Rising, and later reunions with the E Street Band.
Human Touch stands today as a reminder that even great artists can falter when they confuse autonomy with freedom. The album captures Bruce Springsteen searching for connection—ironically, by cutting himself off from the very people and processes that once made that connection possible. The album is generally disliked by Springsteen fans, and in 2012 was ranked last among Springsteen's albums by the online magazine Nerve. Regarding the bad reputation of Human Touch and Lucky Town among his fans, Springsteen said: "I tried it [writing happy songs] in the early '90s and it didn't work; the public didn't like it."
"Pure signal,no noise"
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Author ✍️/ Photographer📸
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"It's a good day to dive". 🤿
🤿 "Something wicked this way comes"
The Aquincum Military Amphitheater is an ancient Roman amphitheater located in the Óbuda district of Budapest, Hungary. It is the larger of Budapest's two amphitheaters (the other being a civilian amphitheater).
It was built around 145 AD, during the reign of Emperor Antoninus Pius, by the Legio II Adiutrix legion. Built on a natural depression, its elliptical arena floor is even larger than that of the Colosseum. It is a mixed stone and earth structure; the spectator seats are built on earth mounds, with only the arena walls and 24 U-shaped stone sections made of stone.
It has a capacity of 10,000-13,000 spectators. It was used for gladiatorial combats, wild animal hunts, military training, and spectacles. It also contains altars dedicated to the goddess Nemesis.
Today, its ruins are open to visitors and, along with the Aquincum Museum, are an important part of the Roman province of Pannonia.
"Pure signal, no noise"
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ArtnetNews: This week, a Frank Frazetta masterpiece is landing on the block at Heritage Auctions.
Titled Conan the Berserker and created for the cover of the 1967 paperback edition of Conan the Conqueror, it depicts the titular barbarian in virile and ferocious form, armor-clad while astride a wild steed and facing down a devilish horde.
It’s an action-packed scene that in time has proliferated across posters and T-shirts, emerging as one of the definitive images of Conan. Its opening bid? $10 million.
Read more: 
The interior of Muhammad Shah's Royal Tent, Qajar Empire, 1834–1848.
Now on display at the Cleveland Museum of Art.
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💜
1988 Cizeta Moroder V16T
#GeorgeMoroder
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Here's the one-off 1983 Citroën 2CV "Picasso".
Pura Vida 🏝️
