Born To Run

As I will tirelessly remind everyone, the key to success with the album shows is with how Bruce frames the rest of the show around the album. Saturday night we had a stunning, monumental album performance, with a second half that kept me wondering when it was going to start to get interesting. If I thought I couldn’t forgive him for “Sunny Day” after “Jungleland,” that was nothing compared to enduring “Sunny Day” after “New York City Serenade” on Saturday night (although to tell you the truth I was so stunned that it took me a few minutes to recover and he could have been playing the Mexican Hat Dance - although the Mexican Hat Dance would at least be novel and amusing, unlike - oh, nevermind). I had already gone on record saying that I would be willing to forgive him “Sunny Day” after “Wreck On The Highway,” except that last night he picked up A DIFFERENT GUITAR and was about to play something else completely different, only to call the entire band over for a conference after which they ALL have to switch guitars in order to play - “Sunny Day.”

At least I had a minute to run to the bathroom.

I do not understand Bruce’s obsession with “Wrecking Ball”. Musically it’s an interesting song, but lyrically it’s so weak it’s almost embarrassing, and it’s also completely irrelevant outside of Giants and maybe, MAYBE the Spectrum. Is it because it’s a new song? Do fans love it because this way they get to show everyone what uber-fans they are because they know this brand-new ‘unreleased’ song (’unreleased’ because it is on freaking iTunes). It gets weaker with every performance he tries to rewrite it for. I just feel like the reception is a gross overreaction. What am I missing?

I liked his decision to go into the album RIGHT AWAY. Part of it, I suspect, was probably because “Hungry Heart” couldn’t sit in its usual spot, but I am sure the rest of it was the 90 minute mountain climb awaiting the E Street Band. I am writing about the album for brucespringsteen.net, so you will have to go read my thoughts on that there. Until that happens, you can read a separate writeup of that.

What I wanted to talk about here was the rest of the show last night. To be honest, I did not expect much of Sunday night’s show once he was done with the album, especially with what happened with Saturday night’s show. Frankly, I was just wiped out, and fine with sitting through a few songs of “Sunny Day”/”Working On A Dream”/et cetera. When he changed guitars and hit a chord that was clearly going to be “Atlantic City,” my thought was, “Well, this is random” - welcome, but random nonetheless. I thought “Badlands” was going to be “Born To Run” - and then we got “Born To Run”. I’m trying to guess how much longer he thinks he’s going to play since we were edging 11 at that point, and instead we got “Seven Nights To Rock.” I am thinking, “Is he trying to kill me?” but given that the 60 year old was showing no signs of flagging, well, I can’t exactly sit down on the job.

The people on the other side of us decide that it’s time to leave right about now.

At some point, someone in the audience held up a sign, and to be fair, it wasn’t entirely clear that Bruce wasn’t about to 1) ask for them or 2) cue “Raise Your Hand,” so I can’t fault them. Once again, he pulls “Sweet Soul Music” out from the audience, which we think is pointless, as there is no horn section tonight, just Curt and Clarence, but no, he decides that TONIGHT he is going to do it.

The audience seems… confused. Perhaps I am a snob. (No, actually, wait on that.) Perhaps I just like to imagine that I live on a planet where all right-thinking music fans would riot at the very idea of Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band playing “Sweet Soul Music” again for the first time in many, many years. In the cold light of the next day, pragmatically I’d like to suggest that we were all just TIRED.

I think Bruce thought this was going to be another “Higher & Higher,” where he could just will it to happen and it would manifest itself. It took a few minutes to get Curt onstage, where Bruce held up the sign and said, “Hey, Curt, you know this one?” - and then thank goodness, Roy had the riff (I’m sure Charlie did too) and the ESB launched into the sloppiest, raggediest version of “Sweet Soul Music” you have ever, ever heard. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Arthur Conley was rolling in his grave - well, except from laughter.

(I am just sad we didn’t get “Spotlight on the Big Man… don’t he look great? He’s lost a lot of weight.” I do feel that “Spotlight on the Boss Man… workingsweating his ass off…” did partially make up for it.)

“No Surrender” was fine. “American Land” is what it is. “Dancing In The Dark” was totally unnecessary, except for the four women who climbed onto the platform at the back of the pit. I was actually okay with this example of stupid fan behavior; no one got hurt, no one was going after the band.

Another sign that I didn’t even see him take - “Does anyone know this one?” We are yelling for him to go get Garry out from behind the drums - I’m sorry, an Elvis Presley song? Calling Garry W. Tallent - and they manage to cobble it together, except for the fact that I don’t think Kevin had enough notice to go get it on the prompter, so the audience carried him through the middle verse.

It was sweet. It was unexpected. It was random. It was starting to feel like he was looking to break the midnight curfew.

I know I declared it should be so, but when they started playing the intro to “Higher & Higher,” all I could think was, “Where is he getting this energy from?” I liked that Patti got a verse. I even liked the notion of Bruce taking Patti, Curtis and Cindy out to the back platform, just like he did on Saturday night. It was messy. It was chaotic. It was a little nuts. It was a little silly. It remains the greatest closing number for the E Street Band in many, many years, and if I ever meet the person who brought that sign to Philly, I will buy them a beer.

It was a great MSG night. I cannot stress this enough. People were on their feet all the way up at the top of the venue, even the luxury boxes were packed full of people leaning out over the edge and waving their arms. There were flags of half a dozen countries being held up or hung over the edge of a level. There was dancing. There was loud, very loud, singing. For so much of it, it was very much like how I remember it was, going to the Garden for concerts at the end of the 70s and into the 80s. There were also way, way too many people talking through songs that hundreds if not thousands of people had never ever heard Bruce Springsteen perform. I do not know how to make sense of that. I really do not. There were moments that it was all I could do to try to insert my physical being into the musical notes being played, so I could be surrounded by that and not inane chatter. It is just - so sad.

I felt a little like Cinderella leaving the Garden last night, a little unwilling for the magic to wear off, a little unwilling to go back to mundanity. I can still see (and hear) “Serenade” in my head. I can still feel “Fade Away”. I can still put myself in the emotional spot I was when “Crush On You” started. Not much else matters, in the end.

(Except - seriously, people. Stop fucking talking through everything.)

The title of the record tells you the story: The Wild, The Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle. It is the story of Sandy, Kitty, Billy, Rosie, Spanish Johnny and Diamond Jackie. It is an album of epics. It is not an album of half-measures.

This is why there was both a full horn section and a string quartet onstage this evening. Walk tall, or don’t walk at all, as the song goes.

These were the songs you always wanted to hear, the big legends, a million words spilling out. It was an enormous album to wrap your head around the first time you heard it. It was equally enormous to sit there and take it all in as it was being played in front of you.

Bruce took to the front of the stage, a conductor’s baton in one hand. He introduced the record, explaining that it was about both New Jersey and New York, tapped the baton on the mic stand, and turned around to conduct the horn section in the cacophony that opened the record, note for note. Once that had been completed (to his utter satisfaction, judging by the look on his face), he turned around and turned into the boy prophet.

I confess I am not a fan of “Sandy”. I always thought the hubbub around it was just the tiniest bit exaggerated. It is a tough song to place in a set. Tonight it was delicate and lyrical, Roy Bittan handling Danny’s accordion role with aplomb. (Roy was running a marathon tonight, since he had to handle all of Danny’s parts on this record, and there are a lot of them.)

I love “Kitty’s Back” but agree that sometimes a 9 minute free jazz exploration in the middle of a Springsteen concert in a large venue might not be the best way to go. Kitty can lose focus. Kitty can be scattered. Kitty has been none of those things since Curt Ramm came onboard for the album shows and with a full horn section, Kitty’s Back reclaims its rightful place. Watching Bruce facing the horn section, conducting them into their parts, in order, was worth the price of admission. By the end of the song, every person in the Garden was up and paying attention and singing “Oooh, it’s alright” like they sang it a million times before.

I worried about “Wild Billy”. I worried about it something fierce. I worried about “Wild Billy” and how people can’t just sit still and listen to a quiet and unfamiliar piece of music, and I was not wrong. But it was also “Wild Billy” and there’s a tuba on the stage and a little bit of Asbury Park magic was conjured in that moment tonight.

It feels greedy to be able to compare versions of “Incident on 57th Street’; the one I saw sitting behind the stage in Montreal 03, when Bruce played the piano, is up there, but tonight I felt like “Incident” truly stepped up and stretched to its full height, that it got to take up all the space it needs. I don’t think it’s ever not compelling, but tonight it was majestic.

I held my breath as Roy played the piano refrain, knowing what was next, waiting for it - and then, just when people were starting to get a little ansy at so many ‘quiet’ songs, the guitar chords and the house lights and it was the best “Rosalita” you have ever seen. I don’t care where you saw it before and that you met your husband there or you saw God or stood next to Brad Pitt or whatever. “Rosalita” can feel perfunctory. “Rosalita” can feel workman-like. “Rosalita” coming after “Incident” and with “Serenade” still to come kept it focused and on track and truly celebratory. I know it rarely came out of “Incident” live, but it has been hard to find its place in the modern era. You watched the entire Garden go apeshit to “Rosalita” and you thought, “Yeah, I *really* get this fucking song now.” You remember what it used to be like.

And then, Bruce dons a 12 string guitar, and Roy settles in behind the keyboard, and all you can do is pray that the yakking dudes three rows behind you will need to take a leak or get another beer or that somehow Bruce will be able to make enough noise to carry you into “New York City Serenade”. I have never seen “Serenade”: I have always missed “Serenade” by one show. It is still rare enough that it’s not like I feel I was slacking or something, but it did start to feel that I might not ever see it; on the other hand, I was glad that Bruce held his ground on this one, that it didn’t get dragged out anywhere but New York (or Philly, and yes that does make perfect sense).

You wonder how he will find the emotional space. You wonder how the band will recreate it. You suddenly see a spotlight on a string section and you don’t consider it too closely, you just go with it. You close your eyes a little bit to let yourself sink into it more, to hear it better. It is like words washing down over you. It is what you thought it would be like but it is also nothing like you thought it would be like. It is enormous. It is stunning. I was behind Roy, and got to watch his hands on the keyboard the entire time, which was yet another level of astonishment.

By the time it was done, I was ready to sit down and breathe. The aftertaste presented by the infernal palate-cleansing “Sunny Day” didn’t matter, it could have been anything. I just wanted to sit and let it sink in.

I would like to report that the rest of the show was equal to the album, and from a performance perspective, this band has not been this good in a very long time. Every performance from here until the end of the tour will be a 10. However, the setlist - full of hits and crowd-pleasers (with the exception of a stunning “Human Touch,” the best I have seen yet) and “Bobby Jean” AND “Glory Days” seemed to not be as strong as the album at its center. Even the requests (and, seriously, people, requests? At these shows? How greedy do we have to be?) All was forgiven, however, when the horns came back out, along with one Elvis Costello, to sing “Higher & Higher,” closing the loop on the Apollo Theater conversation. This has become the theme song for this tour as far as I’m concerned, and I hope they play it all the way until Buffalo.

I long for the day they get a website with actual pages.

Pearl Jam playing the last song (well, second-to-last) at the last show at the Spectrum, 10/31/09. More here.

I will miss that room.

Because The Night

In the lull waiting for U2, the conversation went a little bit like this:
“Um, there’s a piano on the stage.”
“Really?”
“Who’s going to play that piano?”
“Daniel Lanois?”
“Or another bald-headed gentleman who seems to be missing.”
We looked one row in front of us. Roy Bittan was no longer in his seat. He had been in the 10th row. We had been in the 13th row, until Curtis King and Jake Clemons and their guests had moved.
“And those aren’t the Edge’s amps, either.”
I looked. They were tilted back, against the drum riser.
“And look who’s walking across the stage.”
There was Kevin, Springsteen’s guitar tech, ambling by.

In 30 million years, I honestly never expected it. Everyone was blah blah blah Mick Jagger, blah blah blah Bob Dylan, blah blah blah. We knew how early the Bruce setlist had leaked out the previous day and so stayed far, far away from the internet. Seeing Bruce with U2 was on the bucket list, but we didn’t know how it would ever actually come to pass.

However, I will confess to going completely numb when Patti Smith walked out onstage with Bruce Springsteen. I always explain that I have no coherent memory of the first time I saw key artists, because it was all one glorious blur of overwhelming emotion. I was starting to do that again, and even though I didn’t want to take pictures because I wanted to WATCH IT, taking pictures kept me present, kept me grounded in the moment.

Of course, there was a slight problem. Patti was singing her version, Bruce was playing his version, and U2 were playing what they believed to be a version of the song that they were familiar with. They stopped. They started again. They stopped one more time. Bono came over and sang in Patti’s ear. She looked nervous, and a little abashed, but she was also smiling from ear to ear, excited and happy.

I. am. freaking. the. fuck. OUT.

U2 were always okay by me, but that cover of “Dancing Barefoot” sealed the deal. Then there was Larry Mullen Jr. talking about the bands that were important to U2 at the HOF induction. There was Patti opening for U2 at MSG (which I missed because I was broke). But there is a straight line between one and the other. There was never any doubt.

And let’s take the other angle under consideration, which was PATTI SMITH AND BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN ON THE SAME STAGE, which is something I fantasized about ever since seeing the photos of the two of them onstage together in Rock Scene back in the day. Things I would have killed or died to be at.

This is the stuff that defines you. These are the things that fill in the colors and the shading, layer upon layer.

She was thrilled to be there. They were thrilled to have her there. I know she only got into the HOF because Michael Stipe put his foot down (or at least that is how I envision it). She should have been there all along.

The song finishes, Roy playing it out - oh yeah Roy Bittan was up there too!! - and then everyone is hugging Patti. But no one hugged her more than Larry Mullen Jr., who gave her a big kiss as well, and whose face looked like a little boy who just unwrapped a bright red tricycle on Christmas morning.

Bruce on “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” was beautiful. That song has soul. He still had his soul voice from the day before. The call and response between the two of them was nothing other than epic.

We will not discuss the Black Eyed Peas. I don’t care how much you like them or how fun they are or what Important Musical Person likes them or whatever inane argument you’re going to offer. They are not Hall of Fame material and it was a waste of a song. It was trivial. It was not relevant. The whole point of these shows were, “This is who we are and what we do” and then here are our influences and here are our tributes to other legends. That stupid song was none of those things. (Neither, just for argument’s sake, was “Vertigo,” but we’ll get to that.) In this regard, Metallica did a far better job than U2 did, but we’ll also get to that later as well.

I watch Fergie climb on the back of the drum riser and all I can think is, “Get away from him.” But then Edge hits a note and the look on my face registers with my companion and then we know that the rumors are all true, because there is no way Mick Jagger is not going to walk out on that stage if U2 are covering “Gimme Shelter,” and then before we have a chance to think about it too much, there is Michael Phillip himself, walking out onstage.

I was very glad to have the railing in front of me to lean on at that moment. It was all a little much.

I’ll start at the beginning: It went a little bit like this: On Thursday morning, while counting the hours until we got online for the first show, I started emailing links from eBay to the SO. Then he sent me a link to a pair of tickets on the floor, second section back, but the third row of the second section. We set a price, we bid, we won. (Not naming the price, but we did not pay face.)

I don’t want to say we didn’t belong sitting where we did but boy was it odd. Money does not indicate fandom; in fact, quite the opposite. People there for status, people there for no visible reason we could see (because they sat down and looked bored and annoyed the whole night). I ran into Nils Lofgren on my way to the ladies’ and stupidly blurted, “Hi Nils!” I say stupidly because it came out purely because I have seen the man so often lately that it just seemed like the most natural thing in the world to say hi.

We were in the 13th row, and then decided to self-upgrade up to the front row of the section right before U2, placing us in the 11th row. Before you think us greedy, if we didn’t upgrade, someone else would have taken those spots. And once we got there, we realized that the people who had been sitting there probably weren’t coming back, given the special guests.

I will start at the beginning, briefly. Tom Hanks once again gave an introduction which was boring, unnecessary and not very rock and roll; Jerry Lee Lewis was trotted back out, and while he seemed like he had a little more energy, him kicking the piano stool over at the end wasn’t cool, it was just a little sad.

I was ready to dance my butt off to Aretha Franklin. I do not want to tell you that she phoned it in, but she did. Her voice sounded fine, and she had 8 backup singers and a horn section and two keyboard players and a conductor (among others, all of whom she felt she had to introduce *individually* later in the set). Annie Lennox came out and was in fine spirits, as did Lenny Kravitz (who I could care less about). This was like John Legend coming out for Stevie Wonder. They are not Hall of Fame caliber artists and bringing them out for things like this does not make them so. (And I don’t mean to diss Annie Lennox, who I quite like, just the general principle.)

Jeff Beck was next, and while I realize he was filling in for Eric Clapton, and that he is a fine musician, he was boring. Everyone got up and walked around. The entire Garden was constantly in motion. Yes, he brought out Buddy Guy; yes, he brought out Billy Gibbons; yes, Sting came out to try to spice things up. I just question whether this was the best they could do given the short notice. (Which of course begs the question about where certain obvious candidates were, and brings up the contentious relationship many, many artists and their managers have with Jann Wenner and the Hall of Fame, and you wonder what could have been instead of what was.)

Metallica finally woke everyone up. The intro video set the playing field, as the roar came down from the upper level the first time their picture flashed on the screen. 40 year old men with bad mohawks were sneaking their way into empty seats in our section to make out with their girlfriends and give the devil horns at the stage and sing along at the top of their lungs. The hipster next to my SO felt the need to explain Metallica to him, because he was nicely dressed and not wearing an ironic tshirt; we got along much better with the 50-something couple wearing leather jackets sitting behind us who were so clearly fans and loving every second of it.

When we tried to rank the performances from both nights, there was a lot of debate about who was #2, Metallica or U2. And it’s definitely debatable. Metallica were rehearsed. They were excited to be there. James Hetfield was visibly nervous when he spoke. They played the songs that defined them: “One,” “Enter Sandman,” “For Whom The Bell Tolls”. The special guests may not have been chosen by them, but they embraced them wholeheartedly and god did it all make sense. Doing “Sweet Jane” and “White Light/White Heat” with Lou Reed, “You Really Got Me” and “All Day And All Of The Night” with Ray Davies. But the Garden went absolutely apeshit from top to bottom when Ozzy Osbourne walked out onstage for “Iron Man”. It was absolute pandemonium. It was loud. It was raucous. It was PERFECT. “Paranoid” to finish was gorgeous, and I didn’t know how on earth Ray Davies was going to follow that. (His set succeeded because it was short and to the point.)

I will not mention the gratuitous video played during “Enter Sandman,” to which our response was to offer the state bird of New York.

So now we’re back to where we started. Do not get me wrong - U2 were U2. It is ridiculous that there were so many equipment problems (the crowd sang the first two lines of “Vertigo” until Bono’s mic got turned on). But if you look at the strongest sets from both nights, it was where the musicians played the songs that defined them, played covers of influences, brought on their influences, paid tribute to their roots. Yes, U2 did that with bringing on Patti and Bruce for “Because The Night”. But given that the intro filmed showed the entire CBGB’s roster, backed with that Larry Mullen Jr. speech, a Ramones cover wouldn’t have been out of place. The selection of songs seemed unfortunate. It wasn’t “We’re U2, and this is what we do.” Where was “Streets”? Where was “Bad”? “Magnificent” works great in a crowd of U2 fans who know every word. Last night was not a crowd of U2 fans.

I do not mean to seem nitpicky or ungrateful. It just seemed like a lost opportunity for a band capable of working a room such as MSG like it was a tiny theater. It seemed easy. It seemed almost unworthy of them. If I have high expectations it is because the band themselves set them.

And even with that, it was still one of my all-time best rock and roll moments, ever, and a night I will never, ever, ever forget. It accomplished what it set out to do, which was link our rock and roll past and our rock and roll present, to give the music context and deeper meaning. Politics aside, that is the whole point of the Hall of Fame, and with these two shows, for the most part, they succeeded.

Still speechless from last night in so many ways. More later.

I am not particularly monogamous when it comes to rock and roll loves. I like a lot of things, I am diverse, I have varied tastes. I can debate you favorite Chuck Berry songs (”Nadine”) as hard as I can debate you favorite Ramones songs (”Here Today, Gone Tomorrow”). I am not someone who walked into last night’s show planning to file my nails or watch the ballgame until Springsteen walked onstage. I might not have loved everyone in the lineup but I fully planned to participate with intention.

Jerry Lee Lewis was the surprise opening act. It will not surprise you when I say that he did not look well. But the crowd sprung to their feet and sent out a wave of love, and he got through “Whole Lotta Shakin’” before being carefully helped off the stage. (If you want to see him and have not, try to make that happen soon.)

All I could think during the Crosby, Stills and Nash segment was: this is why punk rock happened.

It wasn’t that they were boring, per se; I get that they aren’t a rock band, you know? I owned the Woodstock record, I owned Deja Vu. But maybe rocking out just a little more would have made the performance more compelling. Even bringing out Bonnie Raitt and Jackson Browne didn’t spice things up. People near me were literally falling asleep; but I also saw people up and dancing. I wondered how much of the latter was based on “I paid $450 for this ticket so I am going to have a GREAT time by any means necessary” or if I was just missing something.

I get it: they are aging. I get it. And, maybe I will never like CSN. The performance just seemed full of unnecessary arrogance and grandiosity. Oversinging, overplaying - you guys are in the rock and roll hall of fame. Just do what you do. Maybe that is what they do and maybe it is just that it is not my cup of tea. (Postcards only, please, usual address.)

However, based on my reaction to Simon & Garfunkel, I have to think that CSN just weren’t good. S&G *were* good. They were very, very strong and gave a very good performance. Again, not a band I hate, but not something I would choose to listen to; I’m pretty sure I don’t own a record of theirs. But they were powerful and compelling and the chatty, noisy Garden simmered down for “Sound of Silence,” believe it or not. It helped that their voices are still in great shape. Paul Simon’s solo set, which preceded, was not nearly as interesting as the full S&G set, I’m sorry to say. Highlights of Paul’s set were his lovely cover of “Here Comes The Sun” (the right person to invoke the Beatles, in my opinion), Dion’s spot singing “The Wanderer,” which woke the crowd up; and Little Anthony and the Imperials, who were awesome. The guest acts worked well within the set; they were contextual to the artists; they made sense. Paul Simon had a blast singing doo-wop backup for Dion.

I love Stevie Wonder. I was super-excited to see Stevie Wonder. However, I am sad to say that Stevie did not have it last night. He was severely constrained by major technical difficulties at the start of his set, which unfortunately continued into his set, and I think this really threw him off. He did his best to just ignore them and power through, but I am not even sure he could hear himself accurately. When he wandered off into having the crowd sing “We love Michael Jackson” and “Long live Michael Jackson” repeatedly, it just started to get sad. I also have to say that I hate medleys. I wanted to hear “Uptight” in its entirety. I wanted to hear “Higher Ground” without veering off into “Roxanne” in the middle of it. Stevie was up there with three percussionists, four backup singers, and a full horn section - I was joking that they had more equipment than Metallica will Friday night - and it just seemed wasted. I felt that the special guests - John Legend, Sting, Jeff Beck - didn’t add to the performance and just seemed distracting. Even Smokey Robinson seemed jarring.

Each act was preceded by a video montage placing them in context, which were all well done and useful for someone who needed help with the history. Not useful were the enormous, bland graphics imposed onstage during certain songs (rain on a windowpane for Tracks of My Tears, moonrise over mountains for Midnight Rider, Marvin Gaye for Mercy, Mercy Me).

The Springsteen portion of the set will be covered in a separate piece.

not sunny day

Let us begin at the end.

Everyone who was at Philly #4 is testifying like nobody’s business. Everyone who wasn’t at Philly #4 wants to shoot themselves. The truth, as usual, is somewhere in the middle. Here’s the thing: the problem with Philly #4 was that there were these tremendous gigantic enormous EVENTS… and then there was the rest of the show. Which wasn’t bad, but it’s not like you missed 3 hours and 17 minutes of pure perfection, the best show ever, give up, don’t ever bother going to another one.

Yes, “Higher & Higher” was beyond unbelievable. To paraphrase my learned colleague Flynn McLean, it was the finest E Street Band moment in the last decade. Flynn is not prone to exaggeration, and he is also not wrong. It absolutely was the finest E Street Band moment in the last decade. It was a song that hasn’t been played since 1977. It was a JACKIE WILSON song, and Bruce loves to play at being Jackie Wilson, and ups his game when he does (see: 2003 Christmas shows). People have always brought “Higher & Higher” signs, but there was no chance that they were going to do it without a horn section. If you look at the context of when the song was last played, it was at the last show of a tour and Bruce wanted to thank the people of Boston - the #2 Springsteen city in the US - for their support.

Bruce took the sign. He deliberately sought out and took the sign. And then we had an E Street Band firing on all cylinders, because of 8 months on the road and rehearsals and extra soundcheck and we had the closest that we’ve had to a horn section in years, and it was the last night at the Spectrum. Bruce could have officially closed out the joint, because he was the first choice, the obvious choice to do so - that flag in the back corner ain’t bullshit - but he had already committed to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame shows. So this was it. This was goodbye to the place that was one of the epicenters of the live Springsteen show for so many years.

He tries to find the riff - he’s close but he’s doesn’t have the key right. Charlie has it, plays the refrain. He plays it once - just once - and Bruce has it dialed in. Calls to the horns - and of course, Clarence goes first, even though I bet any amount of money that Curt Ramm knew it immediately - and then the Professor for good measure. (I am sure some of this was to give Kevin time to get the lyrics on the prompter.) And then - BOOM. Holy mother of god, they are doing it. They are playing it. They are going to play “Higher and Higher.” At the Spectrum. The thing about doing this in Philly is that you’re going to get enough of a OH MY FUCKING GOD reaction from the crowd to give the band energy to keep going. It’s like trying to play “Thundercrack” anywhere outside of the East Coast - maybe Detroit, once upon a time Cleveland (but not now), Boston, maybe Chicago - but anywhere else it’s going to drop dead in the water because no one in the crowd knows what to do.

And he’s loving it. That’s just it, it wasn’t just that it was fun or okay or goofy, it was Bruce loving every single second of the song. It was Garry W. Tallent swinging back there on the bass. It was Nils Lofgren swaying back and forth with gusto. It was the backup singers FINALLY HAVING SOMETHING WORTHWHILE TO ACTUALLY DO, where their presence was vital to the performance of the song and not superfluous. It was Stevie having to actually pay attention to what’s going on. It was singing and dancing and waving your arms in the air and it lasted for almost ten minutes. You got religion. You stood there for 10 minutes thinking, I am closing down the Spectrum singing “Higher and Higher” with the E Street Band. This is the kind of moment you dreamed about when you first started collecting Springsteen bootlegs.

So, yeah, if you weren’t there, you missed THAT. If you were there, you know that maybe I came close to chipping away a little bit at the top of it, but words are not going to express this moment adequately (and I have been trying since the show ended). You walked out of the show floating on air because of that moment, that song, that performance.

And then, let’s not forget the opening number. There is so much baggage attached to “The Price You Pay” - he wouldn’t play it, why wouldn’t he play it, people brought signs and I even stood next to one insane woman once who wrote out sheet music for it. I could not see this, because 1) I was too busy picking my jaw up off the ground and 2) I didn’t have the right angle, but my SO, who was on the floor with a buddy (I had sidestage, picked up on the drop, since I had to work that day - no I am not complaining) claims that Bruce had this little smile between verses, that he knew exactly what he was doing. And you know what? The last night of Bruce Springsteen at the Spectrum is the night that that you fucking take out the song you haven’t played since 1981. I am lucky, I have heard this before (my one River tour show, 12/12/80), but I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I actually remember it in detail (or at all, as the case may be).

But it was an odd choice as an opener, I gotta tell ya, especially when you look at the other openers during the week - it fit with the ‘We are commemorating our last shows in this room” theme, and it fit with the usual Boss modus operandi of hitting the audience with the new and difficult thing early, but let’s be honest - the song is a downer. When you come out with a poppy little ditty like “Seaside Bar Song,” even if you don’t know it, you can connect with it. No one who didn’t know what was going on was connecting with “The Price You Pay”. The band walks out, the band starts playing, and everyone around me kind of looks - confused. In fact, there was such a non-reaction around me that at first I thought I had the song wrong.

This is probably why we had the “Wrecking Ball” “Out In The Street” “Hungry Heart” shiny happy people interlude immediately afterward, which destroyed all the intensity built up with TPYP and just felt like eating ice cream and smoked salmon together. I also felt that “Wrecking Ball” as the #2 song was the cheap and easy way out. This was not exactly a stellar interlude, folks, and I have to tell you that during “Out In The Street” my hopes for this show actually started to fade a little bit. There is a known precedent of the second-to-last show beating the crap out of the last show. And then I decided it didn’t matter even if it did, that when I was in high school I would have sold my grandma for a chance to dance around to Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band live at the Philadelphia Spectrum, and I was going to take advantage of it. I was going to sing along to USA like it was 1985 again. So I did.

The album performance was outstanding. This is another place where you start to visibly, deliberately observe the impact of repeated shows. The guitar work was tight, compact, focused. Bruce’s voice was, again, in great shape. Nils’ “Cover Me” solos were also right on; unlike Nils’ solos during the Darkness performances, they work here, because he played them live the first time and they were perfectly contextual. I was thrilled that Adele got the last dance, and not another child perched on their parent’s shoulders, blocking the view of the people behind them. (The parent with the sign that said ‘I’M 8 YEARS OLD AND THIS IS MY 24TH SHOW’ should not be proud of this.)

Tuesday night was my night to watch the rhythm section. My vantage point afforded me the ability to watch Roy and Garry, and Garry and Max, and the three of them, and every once in a while Nils comes over for good measure. I miss Garry down front. I know, he just fills whatever space is there for him to fill, and he’s probably happier up there close to Max or near Roy. I am not anti-Patti by any means, but I miss when the boys had the microphones.

Coming out of the album, we picked up speed again, once again demonstrating that the key to these album shows is how Bruce decides to frame the show around the record. “Promised Land” as the after-dinner mint is so far superior to “Sunny Day” that I cannot believe that he even considers “Sunny Day” a viable option. I don’t care how much you might like the song, do you really want to hear that after coming out of “Meeting”/”Jungleland”? (No, really. Do you?) It was an excellent run but it didn’t have the strength of the Darkness show the previous week. I think that was a stronger show and a more consistent overall performance, but it’s not like this show was terrible. Some people have commented that Bruce seemed exhausted, but I was pretty close to the stage and I did not get that, at all.

It does seem like Bruce is tired of the signs, or at least tired of having a set period in the show where he walks around and collects signs and is expected to act like a jukebox. The problem that’s presented is this: without having a set period to hold up the signs, you have inconsiderate bozos who bring enormous signs for ridiculous cover songs the band will never, ever play, who hold them up throughout the night without regard to who might be standing behind them. I don’t know what the solution is. Clearly, the signs can be beneficial, but they’re no longer a fun ritual. I don’t know what’s going to happen with this. Probably nothing. Or something will happen and Bruce will get pissed off and there will suddenly no longer be signs allowed. I do wish that people would think and not just bring ridiculous signs in order to get noticed (said the woman with the WHITE RIOT sign. It was just my way of saying, “Hey, you know, I loved Joe too,” and I didn’t hold it up the whole night and it didn’t bother anyone else.)

Anyone who brings a Santa sign earlier than mid-November should have their sign confiscated and destroyed.

SIDEBAR:
“Outlaw Pete” has clearly left the building. It is too early to tell if it is for good or if he will return for the one-off shows. Don’t get me wrong - it’s not a bad song, per se, it’s just unbelievably long. I know he has fun playing it. I know he wanted to write his big Morricone epic. I just don’t know that we need to take up 9 minutes at the beginning of the show with this song. I would also say ‘I don’t think people are buying tickets to the show to see “Outlaw Pete” but then that goes into the discussion of the fact that this isn’t supposed to be a nostalgia tour but yet we are now down to ONE song from the current album in the set and only one, maybe two songs from the excellent and superior predecesor. And I suppose someone will write in and tell me how great “Outlaw Pete” is, but you also probably really love “American Land,” and if that is the case we do not speak the same language anyway.

The encore. Now, the encore started off as something truly worthy of Philadelphia and the last night at the Spectrum. “Spirit” - and Bruce finding another very appropriate use for the mid-floor platform. He took a hat from a 20-something kid down front that was straight out of the early 70’s, and proceeded to wear it as he worked his way around the floor, in a very early 70’s “Spirit”-ish way. I could see how every time Bruce thought there was a chance that someone might try to grab the hat off his head, he took it off and held it in his hand. It was a nice wool hat, and I’m sure the kid who wore it was kind of wondering, “Well, it’s awesome that Bruce took it but gosh I really did like that hat,” but I was pretty sure as I watched that Bruce would remember exactly where he borrowed it from, and sure enough, he returned it to its rightful owner - with a bow of thanks - at the end of the song. It was the kind of loose but rollicking “Spirit” that is the song at its best. Kitty had to come out, too, and then we had to endure “American Land” (why? no really, why? I do not understand, but I will file this under the things I do not understand but other people do, like “The Office,” Hawaiian pizza, and the designated hitter.)

All was forgiven, however, with a soulful, heartwrenching version of “Save The Last Dance For Me.” Unlike Kansas City last summer, it was clearly planned, and well rehearsed. The entire building was quiet.

And then… we got “Sunny Day.”

(I know, sometimes you write a song to hear the audience sing it back at you. I get it. But look at how many people sang “Higher & Higher” - let’s be real. Everyone would sing along to everything except “Reno,” and even then you would find some stubborn motherfuckers who would do it on principle. People were even singing along - loudly - to “Loose Ends”. You don’t have to keep creating these artificial crowd participation moments because there are enough real ones already, and I’d argue it’s called THE ENTIRE SHOW.)

The harmonica in one hand signaled that it would be “Thunder Road” singing us out of the house, and I thought this was the right way to end things, the last note to be played, the last memory we should have, the coda of “Thunder Road” ringing in our ears as we walked out of the building. But he wasn’t ready to go yet, and I can’t blame him for bringing Rosie out - I mean, I can, because “Thunder Road” was just so perfect, just so fitting, but then again, 30 years ago I would have given my eye teeth to be sitting four rows off the floor in front of the stage at a Bruce Springsteen show at the Spectrum, singing along to “Rosalita”. He worked the stage, he worked the crowd, he sang to the front, the sides, the back, the middle level, the people in the 400’s. He made eye contact with as many people as he could.

Then the guitar was held aloft in thanks and tribute as the E Street Band made their way down the stairs, and waving at us one more time, we were done. It should have been sad but it was more bittersweet; the room is wonderful, and they don’t build them like that any more.

I will tell you that we sang “Higher and Higher” almost all the way home, and it has been echoing in my head every day since.

Say what you want about the show, highs and lows, good and bad - it was still one for the ages. It was a worthy run to close down the house. I want to hope that they will just keep getting better as we work our way towards the end of this run.
–
the flickr set

I will be honest and say that Clarence was far more lucid and articulate than I was led to believe his current condition left him in. His eyesight was fine, his hearing a little wobbly - which is of course to be expected. He was funny, he was engaged, he was happy to be there. I have to tell you, given the prevailing rumors out there, I was expecting him to be more frail.

Clarence is appearing at these events with his co-author, Don Reo. While I appreciate that Mr. Reo is a celebrity in his own right and a friend of Clarence’s, frankly, I don’t care. I do appreciate that he (mostly) got out of the way and let Clarence talk. I will leave it at that, except to say that we do not need yet another person representing the position that every E Street Band show is the BEST SHOW EVER PERFORMED. It is possible to love every minute of being at a show and still be objective. History would be better served by the latter. They then took questions from the audience.

The Big Man was gracious and gave answers that were not always the PC version. Good questions were, “What sign would you bring?” (Consensus seemed to be “Paradise by the C”) and his favorite song (again, “Paradise”). Which album was his favorite to perform? Born To Run. (This is where Don Reo noted that he didn’t think the BITUSA songs ‘worked in the middle of the show’”. Funny, they seemed to work just fine in the middle of the show in 1985.) A good question about his specific musical influences. I will spare you the stupid questions. My companion asked - when we were getting our books signed - how he felt about having Curt Ramm around. Clarence said that he didn’t like it, that he “wasn’t one of the family yet”. (Although earlier the smile on his face when talking about “Higher and Higher” from Philly seemed to be the opposite emotion.)

My question: One of my favorite parts of the Rising tour was the instrumental break during “City of Ruins,” when Bruce and Clarence would do that little soul shuffle. And you probably noticed, every night, when they did it, they were having a conversation. It wasn’t just ‘Hey, dude, what up,” it was a pretty involved conversation that went the length of the break. I always wondered what they talked about during the break. My sister also did, and her theory was that it was just, “Hey, what you doing after the show? What are you having for dinner?” - which Clarence claimed was exactly what they were talking about. (I told him that was what we thought they were doing, so he wasn’t shattering any illusions.)

Instead of reviewing the event, I will offer you hints and tips as to how to get the most out of it:
1) Think of a question before you get there, and have another in your back pocket in case someone asks a similar question.
2) Put your hand up as soon as they ask if there are any questions. Get your question in quickly, get over any nervousness you have, the sooner you ask it, the better chance you have at being called upon. Once one or two questions are asked, people that don’t really have questions decide they do and raise their hand, and then they start asking stupid questions, which will start to try Clarence’s patience.
3) Do not ask about specific shows unless they happened recently. Do not go and ask about your favorite show from 1978 - he will tell you that there have been so many and he doesn’t remember it. Do not go expecting to have an E Street Band member validate your personal opinion that Show X was the most transcendent version of X song, ever.
4) Speak loudly and clearly and make your question brief and to the point. See note above about his hearing.
5) If you don’t have a question but just want to proclaim your love for the E Street Band, save that for the signing, you will get at least a few moments to convey that information. Do not, however, take up valuable public time to make sure we know you are the biggest and best fan in the world and have seen hundreds of shows over 30 years. You are boring.
6) If your child cannot sit quietly, DO NOT BRING YOUR CHILD. It is unfair to everyone else to have a fussy, loud toddler squirming during the questioning.
7) Do not ask questions about what happens after the tour, when the next album is coming out, when the next tour is, what Bruce is doing - even if he knew that Bruce asked them all to keep their calendars open for the next 9 months, HE CAN’T TELL YOU. Don’t waste the question.

As for the book — I have seen some good reviews of this book on the internet, but they make me feel like I got a different book than they did. On the other hand, there *are* good stories and good information in there, I just would have like to have seen a higher tone taken with the actual writing in the book. It is worth a read if you are a Springsteen fan, and at a minimum, the photos worth thumbing through at your local bookstore on a rainy day. I would suggest you peruse the book’s contents before making a decision as to whether a purchase at full list price is warranted. But it goes without saying, if you have an opportunity to spend an hour in the same room with the Big Man, you should go.