The Star-Spangled Banner is designed to humiliate singers. The melody climbs an octave and a half, and the highest note lands on "free" right at the end. If you start a cappella you're guessing your opening pitch, and a guess two notes too high doesn't reveal itself until you're already committed in front of 68,000 people. Stadiums make it worse. The PA bounces your own voice back at you about half a second late, which is the same delayed auditory feedback researchers use to build speech jammers that stop fluent people mid-sentence. Professional anthem singers get around it with in-ear monitors and a backing track. Bruce sang into open air. Ten years ago he had a golf-ball-sized tumor at the base of his tongue. He took 33 radiation sessions aimed at his head and neck, 66 grays total, and he likes pointing out that 13 grays would kill you if it hit your whole body. Nine weeks of chemo ran alongside. Your tongue shapes every vowel. Most singers who take that much radiation to the throat never sound the same again. He's 68 and he just parked on the hardest note in the song for six seconds.