4/14/08
My name is Kevin. I’m 18 years old. It’s been weeks since the show and it still hurts a little to walk.
It’s difficult to put this in context with Danny’s passing. Nothing’s the same now. And with the E Street Band, I never heard instruments. When you listen to music you can usually hear the instruments, the keys and chords and the notes emitting from them, but it was never like that for me. I always heard the people. I heard Clarence soar into the dark night of Jungleland, I heard the glory of Roy Bittan’s fingers on countless epics like Backstreets, and I heard Danny’s heart in everything, even when I couldn’t.
The last report I wrote was titled “Omaha - The Greatest Night Yet.” In the span of a mere month, that title is now out of date.
Dallas was a very good experience marred only by missing the pit by a mere 50 and a scuffle with some seriously obnoxious non-fans who cut their way in front of us during Gypsy Biker. Other than that, we met some great folks in the line and ended up having the time of our lives. My friend was kind enough to drive back the 4 hours after while I struggled to stay alive.
The guys arrive at my house around 3:20 while I was making some signs. Kelsey had made a shirt the night before with iron on letters on the back saying “TRAMPS LIKE US” which drew some questions from her teachers that day and an iron-on graphic of Bruce on the cover of Darkness on the top left corner. She was ready for it. I was told to throw away my LOHAD sign in Dallas but was undeterred from making another. Along with this one, I made two that said “THANK U ROY!” and “MARRY ME SOOZIE” The lettering was blocky and not very pretty looking, but very visible. The consensus was that it was unlikely the signs would get any attention.
We arrived at the arena at about 4:10. We made our way to the front of the Toyota Center to discover that they were on the high 200s for the wristband count, 266 to be precise. For some reason, I just asked and then decided not to get one and delayed. I talked to Gary, the wristband guy, asking how many were gonna be let in, and then I called a friend of mine just to check in with her.
Katie then said “Let’s just get the wristbands, it’s what we’re here for” So we tossed all superstitions and issues and nerves aside and just got the wristbands; 276, 277, 278, and 279. She says she felt God was there and was a guiding hand in this. I can’t say I disagree with her at this point. Let me diverge for a second and tell you about these friends of mine.
Kelsey (17) is girl who’s got music written on her face. If you asked her if she’d rather starve from food or from music for a month, she’d have to think about it awhile before she’d answer. Grant (18) is a guy of character and integrity whose tall stature and deep compassion has made him the implicit patriarch of the group, even though he’s a few months younger than I am. Katie’s (20) the girl straight from New York City who can turn on the attitude and switch to the strong heart of a mother’s care or the goofy fun of a sister on the turn of a dime. We were united, but tonight it was for this, this thing that we loved. I’ve sent them nearly every album through E-mails with small descriptions and the likelihood that he’d play each song. They dug in it deeply and became students of the school of rock and roll and exhibited the ability to know and love and understand and I love them for it. These are my three friends that came this night. And they all wanted to hear Rosie, especially Katie. She was encouraged when he didn’t play it in Dallas.
We went back to my car in the parking lot and started playing some stuff I was pretty sure would pop up in the set. We listened to the Nebraska version of Reason to Believe and discussed its true message. We talked about American Land and everything that it meant to uphold the image and perception of America.
We went back and got in line, herded like cattle into lines by the 100s. We made friendly with a man behind us named Adam (who, Kelsey pointed out later, did not raise a Cain. In fact, we didn’t ask him if he had children at all), who told us a nice tale about a man who missed a night launch of a space shuttle to see his 27th Bruce show in Dallas.
Then Gary decided it was time to announce. He did the shtick where he holds the jar too high for anyone to draw out of it. After this, the number was drawn before a hushed crowd
“2……..…6……..8”
I closed my eyes. It was at this point that I clutched my three friends with my arms in a death grip and buried by face in them, knowing what kind of night this was going to be. This was also a position we were to be found in several times later throughout the night. Kelsey said that my facial expression was the happiest she’d ever seen. She said later that it continued to reappear throughout the night. We were the 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th people let into the pit last night and while we tried to maintain our enthusiasm to keep from gloating over people who weren’t as fortunate, we weren’t as successful as we had hoped. I called my mother and told her what happened and she screamed the loudest scream I’ve ever heard from her. She’s my favorite mother, I love her so. When I told her about Dallas, she was disappointed about 10th Avenue opening because she suspected, knowing that Bruce should shuffle up the set-list, that Houston would most likely not receive 10th Avenue. She thought about trying to sell or give away her ticket.
We made our way in, stuffing my signs in Grant’s jacket and hoping for the best. Then the first bit of drama; the tickets weren’t scanning. There were two scanners set up at the door and we were about to get passed by people NOT in front of us. Somehow we got it and we managed to get down there without running. We managed a brisk walking pace as Jerry reminded us calmly, almost affectionately “There’s no one in front of you” and had us flash the wristbands and tickets as I said “Thank you, Mr. Fox” with all the implicit respect of a grade-schooler to his teacher. After a bit of a gallop, Katie was warned to walk and pointed out to security “But we were born to run!” but complied anyway.
We got down and saw EXACTLY how close we were talking. Seven people had their elbows on the stage, and I was the eighth. The shape of the four of us was a small diamond; myself in front on the stage, the two girls in the middle, and Grant behind. This formation was held successfully for more of the night than not. I asked Kelsey and Katie if they would like to be up on top of the stage, and they insisted, in all their sweetness, that I stay there. The thing about this was that they weren’t being polite or courteous or just plain nice, they wanted me there. That’s where they want me to be and wanted themselves to be. They had a great sight and with one to two people in front of you at most, no one’s getting a bad deal here. When I touched the stage I said “Both nights, I feel like this should be other people. I felt like the ugly confrontation in Dallas just happened to other people, not me. And I thought that this, being HERE tonight, so close, that only happens to other people” For a weekend, I got the two extremes of being other people. I knelt down before God and said a prayer of thanks and praise for this unprecedented fortune of blessing.
So we found ourselves planted roughly six feet from HIS microphone, a position we acquired purely by luck, chance, and a more than a little bit of God’s graces. We acknowledged the latter by saying a prayer before the show started, thanking him and asking a benediction over the night. I think he heard us. Katie asked me in all sincerity which was going to be better, this or my wedding night. I declined to respond in case any of them ever met my future wife, and at the end of the night, Katie would understand this response. Kelsey had a lump in her throat, Katie had Bruce-bumps, and Grant had a hungry stomach. Once again fulfilling his implicit role as benevolent provider, Grant went and got us pretzels and a big cup of water. He left and returned to his spot without a problem.
The guys ask when my mom’s getting there. My mother, whose infinite love and nurture has encouraged me and enabled me to follow this passion around the country, saw us and started waving to us like a high school cheerleader. We called and she screamed some more and waved to us in all of her maternal excitement. She’s a blessing every day, but it’s days like this that help me understand even better that she’s for real.
We attempted to befriend those around us to create a safe and fun pit environment. The man next to me was Bob, who was with his young grandson John. It was John’s first show and he was 2nd in line and secured a place against the stage the entire night, among other things (more on that later). The guys next to us were courteous but not very friendly. Not to suggest they were unpleasant in any fashion, just a little uninterested in, frankly, anything. They asked me to take a picture of them and I did and Katie kept bumping into them as the night proceeded, apologizing when necessary, but to no response. They were a decidedly neutral couple of fellows. Just to the right of these guys was our aforementioned friend Adam, citing Giants #3 as the best night. I think that changed for him too.
Unfortunately, it’s a big tent and with that comes the reality that some people are gonna wander in you wish wouldn’t. One of these people happened to be an intoxicated man right behind Grant. He started the hard liquor drinking outside before the show and throughout the pre-show wait acted in an obnoxious fashion, attempting to usher his “little girl” (who he had just met), who looked like she was in her late 30s to early 40s, further up in the pit. This included courting Katie’s submission, which was met with a firm, polite, concise “No” as it should be. It should be noted that all of this dissolved into nothing once the band took stage, as Grant puts it, “I know, somehow I just know that Bruce’s arrival will wipe away all the drunken tension or potential conflicts. I marvel at the almost Messianic parallels of the moment”
We saw them come out put down the set-list and then, not fifteen minutes later, replace it with a new one. Something was up. Either he saw the crowd or lack of crowd in the side sections or he just got antsy but something was happening backstage. People got pretty excited when the venue turned off the video billboards. There was a roar but I assured my guys that it wouldn’t happen until all the lights went off and we heard some calliope music.
The lights go out.
Grant mistook the Bruucing for booing, and when they came up he mistook Nils for Bruce because of the hair. Katie remembers it so perfectly: “Soozie’s lady-like waltz up the stairway. Max and Nils both made boy-like hops onto the platform. Charles and Roy ambled jauntily to their respective positions. No one had a more confident stride than Stevie though. And then rose the Big Man. Not until you see him (or his silhouette) in person can you fully understand why they call him the Big Man. During his ascent is when you get the first feeling of what you are about to see. The members of the band wait patiently as he does what he needs to do to get situated - a foreshadowing of how they will be behind Bruce all the way later. This was my first moment of realization.”
This is where I was magically transformed, in about 0.5 seconds, from a mildly-mannered, if not slightly bouncy, young gentleman into a simian creature, pounding at the stage and making panting noises like a gorilla, feasting on the life-blood of rock and roll. I turned to my friends and hugged them as one would with the knowledge that we were about to experience one of the greatest nights of our life.
Max gives tempo and I can tell what’s coming from the backbeat. In darkness Bruce is picking out that irrepressible guitar riff. The man lets out an impassioned scream of fun, rebellion, and pure love and the stage explodes in a symphony of light and sound and visual and music. It’s him, I remember a wash of blue and a whole lotta light and him. He plants himself in the classic wide-legged pose, looking over us, all of us, seeing what he’s working with, what he’s created, what he’s going to create, and what’s gonna happen. The band’s giving as good as it gets and that happens to be a good deal tonight. Certainly a more rockin’ version than Philly #2 in October, but that’s far from the point. He’s loose enough to wanna change the lyrics to “Texas night!” and do some cute shtick with Stevie “These gas prices are killin’ me!” and Stevie replies a goofy “Oh no!!”, despite the fact that gas prices haven’t affected either of these men in decades. There is a blessed air in the night tonight, and we feel the beginning wind blowing over us. After this was when another of several group hugs commenced throughout the night.
Then he asked the question I got the privilege of answering for the 5th time in my life, and for my friends, the very first:
“IS THERE ANYBODY ALIIIVE OUT THERE??”
The answer was an undeniable yes. From the very first time I heard it, the very first song I ever heard live from Bruce Springsteen, the song has only got cooked hotter and hotter and hotter. Certain mannerisms become familiar over time. The way he jumps up in the air to signal Clarence’s solo, his guitar attacks between the verse lines. And there’s that one line where he points to some lucky guy or gal in the crowd. In my experience, he’s always gestured to his right for that one, I assume out of habit. So then it comes:
Bopping through the wild blue
Trying to make a connection with YOU
And I see a face and hand directed point blank at ME. This isn’t the crowd-pleasing antic of a slick showman or an empty gesture. He’s deathly serious about making that connection and he’s serious about making that connection tonight with ME, along with 20,000 other brothers and sisters. Right when he pointed at me, I could hear my friends scream in joy and delight at the realization of my heart’s desire. I got to be the one on the other end of the line of Bruce and the band’s mission statement for the night, and for their entire lives. Connection is no longer a symbol or metaphor for anything else. It’s not an idea. It’s an action. It’s real.
For the rock-out coda, Max fills the pocket with as much break-down it can contain. The drum fills are out of my mind and they don’t stop with Radio Nowhere. Lonesome Day follows and the red-hot rhythms charge onto us. Say what you will but there’s no way you can’t believe the gospel refrain when it’s sung right in front of you: “It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, yeah!” I’ve been to some shows and for me the experience is always gonna be inherently physical, but the stage platform gives me a whole new thing to work with. I managed to get a little higher each time for each “yeah” by sustaining the rest of my body on one arm. I was almost scared at how easy it would be for some nut-job to climb on stage. Katie tells me she’s already exhausted and I know that about 20 songs later she’ll begin to completely understand the meaning of that word. Three songs in and Bruce has these four hearts in the palm of his hand.
Atlantic City is the night’s first big curveball. I know just from the back-beat what’s coming. Katie mentioned earlier that she didn’t want me ruining the songs before he played them, tongue-in-cheek of course. So I cup my mouth around Kelsey’s ear and whisper (yell) “ATLANTIC CITY!!” I remember coming down from the air on the instrumental refrain, beating the stage like it was the man who shot my Pa. Then it’s all taken down and we hear that like of desperation, the man begging his lover:
“Meet me tonight, in Atlantic City”
And it just builds….and builds….and builds….and builds….and builds….the man’s not faking it, he’s desperate and mighty and with arms outstretched he is in command of a captive audience who would ask of each other “meet me tonight” We did.
Magic is next. Bruce says Patti sends her love, to applause from us. He then mentions Danny, which receives a beautiful reception of cheers. Houston, Omaha, it doesn’t matter. The love is all the same and we’ll cheer for this man and his fight against illness until we can’t cheer anymore. He starts up and the song is hauntingly desolate and beautiful in its emptiness. Soozie makes the song, she MAKES it. I hold up the sign and I think they both see it but they don’t really acknowledge it. It was a mistake on my part, and one I would not repeat.
I’m expecting Reason to Believe next, of course. We listened to it in the car, surely he’ll be playing it next. But…oh yes…I see now. He’s running around the stage and telling the boys what to do. Roy starts the piano, I haven’t heard this, no one’s heard this on the tour. The intro is staggeringly beautiful and intimate in ways my brain can’t process. I start shaking and crying without tears. Katie and Kelsey suspect the same thing I do; New York City Serenade. Stevie starts making his guitar weep before the throne of Roy’s glorious keys and whatever it is, we’re enraptured in this. Then it falls down…Because the Night! I turn around to my guys and just scream “YEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!” We saw right before the song started, we saw Bruce walk up to Nils and whisper something into his ear; either to take the solo or not take the solo. After he whispered it, he went over to his mike and launched the crowd into this dark love’s drama. After the key change, it turns out, he told Nils to take the solo. I’ve never seen a hotter solo in my life, I thought the strings were going to catch fire. But the one thing that put the gas on my fire was watching Nils take it to the skies, and then turn to look at me, take a few steps toward me with locked eye contact, nod quick, then launch away. This is a very physical performance and in these few seconds of a moment we got what we gave, which is everything. It’s everything, we were burning. For Grant, this marks the beginning of the spiritual dimension the concert took for him. He describes it “It seemed that I wasn’t listening to the song from without, but it was being pulled up from within me by the artists.” I say to this, welcome to a Bruce show.
The band slams into Candy’s Room, Max’s cymbal hat is the ticking time-bomb of a wrecking crew about to strike. We were talking about this one in the car, how Max thinks the cymbal intro is laughably basic. Katie locked her eyes on him the whole song and he was AT IT for three minutes straight. I turn to Kelsey and whisper (yell) “CANDY’S ROOM!!” even though I’m pretty sure she knew exactly what the thing was as soon as Max started going. I remember being as goofily enthralled by the thing that I actually mimed knocking with my right hand when he sang “When I come knocking” I’m kind of an idiot for this stuff. We can’t recall but this may have been the first time Bruce locked down and graced us with his solos. Grant can’t recall the song, but can recall the feeling: “The crowd swelled around me, not shoving me forward, but lifting me forward in a natural crest-of-wave sort of way. They didn’t literally lift me up, but it’s the best way I can describe it.”
Out in the Street? For real now? This is a joke, right? In a lifetime spanning all of 18 years, there’s no way I’m getting this blessed, right? Not so, says Bruce and his 8 partners in crime. After living with this one for the longest time, I see it crystallize before my eyes as reality. Kelsey said I actually made motions of a box when he sang “Loading crates down on the dock” Again, I’m pretty stupid for this thing. When he sings “I’ll be waiting for you!” he points out the middle of our boisterous shed. We all got to meet each other tonight. I was a little disappointed Soozie didn’t join in for the “Meet me out in the street” section. I saw Steve, Nils, and Clarence take turns at the microphone around Bruce and after two years of driving in my car and put my steering wheel through the ringer while aping Max and listening to this song, I got the blessing of seeing it come alive before my eyes. Bruce was clearly loving this one, egging us for the “whoa-oh” parts with a smile on his face.
She’s the One cranked into gear. I think even Gary was on the maracas, which is always fun to see. I turned around to make sure my comrades got the “Ohhhh-ohhh she’s the one!” and nodded towards them. I think it was at this point that I couldn’t bounce both feet at the same time anymore and had to alternate left and right and then occasionally together. I don’t think Bruce noticed this slight dip in energy level on my part. Soozie’s rock and roll, strumming her black acoustic direct to the Bo Diddley beat. One of the best parts of the song was, obviously, when he took his guitar and grinded it against his mic stand and tossed it back to Kevin, who never fails to catch it but appeared a little pained to in this particular instance. He’s going nuts on the harmonica, I think this might be one of the several times he beckons us three feet away on the upper platform and looks right at me again for the “Hey!”
Right after, we see him reshuffling and getting the band in place and Clarence pulls his sax out for, yep, Livin’ in the Future. Bruce leans against the mic stand and reads his bit. At this point I can yell out with him, like a song “Rendition, illegal wiretapping, suppression of voter rights, suspension of habeas corpus” and when he says the mighty E Street Bad is there to sing about it, he is, again, not messing around (even though he is). He makes a joke; “Somebody’s been f*ckin’ with my passport!” much to the eventual dismay of my mother. I later reassure her, one F-bomb is a small price to pay for 26 songs of EVERYTHING. “A letter come blowin’ in” and he starts swinging wistfully around his mic stand like a kid dying to tell everyone he knows a secret he just found out. In comparison to the first leg, this is downright fun, despite darkness in the lyrics. At the end of it I’m looking at Soozie and she’s looking at me and I make a goofy gesture towards my tongue when he sings “Like when we kiss, that taste of blood on your tongue” He comes down to the platform for the 3rd verse and he’s singing “I’m rolling through town. Lost cowboy at sun-down” standing right over us, gesturing not unlike a hip hop star. We make eye contact again and he can tell that we know this one. He’s right over me for “My faith’s been torn asunder” and I make a tearing motion right beneath him. He then completes the hip-hop motif by crouching down to the camera with all the black attitude a 58 year old white man can summon, which turns out to be a bit. The song ends on a note unresolved and Bruce says “We need a new wind!” and I think the rest of us can feel it.
The Promised Land comes and I know it’s the Promised Land because I can see the shiny little weapon in his right hand before he counts “1, 2” and Max’s drums confidently stride the band into the horizon. I think this is where I grab Kelsey and Grant and Grant gives me a brother’s sweet kiss on the forehead. He needs to play this song at every E Street show, I never want it to leave because while I wasn’t quite so familiar with it less than a year ago, it’s now been ingrained into the very core of my being as a statement of purpose. I almost felt bad because I was very conscious of his harmonica and the kind of mood he was in and, yeah, he ended up tossing it to some lucky soul over on the right side of the pit. I was fixated on that for a little bit, but for the most part I just loved calling out the solos as if they were playing them at my command “Roy!!” “Big Maaaaaan!!!” Obviously that wasn’t the case, but still. The third verse is where it all comes together for me and all the piss and spit and vinegar of a man’s rage and frustration at dreams dead is embodied by Bruce, telling us to BLOW AWAY everything, all the lies. Kelsey’s got Bruce-bumps. For some reason, on the second “Blow away” I find myself singing a different melody, almost like harmony. Grant didn’t know the song in and out but by the end of it he was shouting the chorus with the rest of us, even if he did confuse for the night as “Throw away!” The details don’t matter, the meaning does. This night could be a snapshot of us, four young kids, in our youth sweating and panting for this promise not to be broken. We will spend the rest of our lives blowing away the lies. He tosses his harmonica to a kid in the front row on the right side of the stage.
The impossibly lovely sounding Girls in Their Summer Clothes followed the show’s first climax. When he said “This is for all the Texas girls” I turned around and pointed to Katie and Kelsey, making sure they knew he was talking about them. Stupid, I know, but it was fun seeing the joy in their faces. He came down and took a woman’s hand but made deliberate and prolonged eye contact with Kelsey throughout. I think I might’ve brushed by his hand during this one, which I felt a little guilty for because, after all, it’s for the Texas GIRLS. I like that he combined the “La la la las” with Clarence’s solo for a sweet little duet. I don’t know when it happened but there was a brief exchange with Nils. We saw each other and I clutched my hand over my heart and said “THANK YOU” to him and he just smiled big and waved at me, playing his guitar. Grant marveled at the level of intimacy within the connection Bruce made during this song. “He connected so much, clasping the hand for an eternity of the girl next to me. Going around, singling ladies out and SINGING TO THEM. How does he decide? I feel almost as if its beyond a superficial choice, as if there is some perceptive magic he has gained from the years and years of upturned lady faces; hopeful, joyous, awed faces” It was at this point that, probably for the first time in our lives, both Grant and I wished that we were a girl in our summer clothes.
And now Bruce is playing fast and loose and no one really quite knows what’s going on. He goes over to a young man named Quentin over on the right side of the pit. Quentin’s holding up a sign and we can’t make it out until Bruce turns it around for us. It’s bright and pink and we’re not sure what’s gonna happen. What, a Ramrod audible or Glory Days? That’s perfectly acceptable, of course. Who among us would complain? But no. No no. Whoever this little guy was, his taste leaned more towards the, you know, awesome side of the catalogue. This little pink sign had written upon it “The E Street Shuffle Please” Because of our proximity, our hysteria was launched before the rest of the arena joined in. He makes a comment that this song was written before Quentin’s grandfather was born, gives a shout out to Liberty Hall and talked about how it couldn’t have fit more than a hundred people in there. Everyone laughed and the master of mass connection, the guy making the arena feel like a living room, was in front of us. He asks the band if they remember it. I’m not quite sure that it’s happening to us. Texas? Us? We’re getting THE E Street Shuffle? Surely not because….oh, there he goes. Yeah, it’s happening. We got the E Street Shuffle and we’re dancing around like little angels in the pit. It’s getting a little squishy on the stage, trying to make some ground, which prevented me from turning to my friend as much as I would’ve liked to. He props the sign up against the mic stand and gives it back to him promptly after the song is done.
There’s some on-stage shuffling, and we’re about to witness a transcendent moment in Bruce history. I know it’s not Devil’s Arcade because he doesn’t play acoustic guitar for that one. We see him go get the harmonica contraption and put it on for whatever’s coming next. And we get a feeling for what it might be when he says it’s for a friend who passed away. He then says something about the Cox boys we understand later. I take Katie’s hand and clutch it tightly, we’re about to see a song he’s never played before a concert audience, an E Street, world premiere. And we know what it is. All we need for confirmation is Roy’s fingers falling onto keys. It’s Terry’s Song. This is a moment. The arena was as quiet as I’ve ever heard one. Nils comes from out of the darkness and provides Bruce with worthy backing vocals. His posture before is absolutely perfect, walking slowly to the mic with his hand over his face, quite a difference from the guitar god of a mere seven songs ago. His contribution is reminiscent of the contribution made by all the band members during the Reunion Tour performances of If I Should Fall Behind, delicate power. The song ends and we’ve witnessed so much beauty before us, a man’s song for a friend fallen.
Silence in the arena. Devil’s Arcade kicks off the five pack in its entirety. Bruce kneels down at his mic. Charlie begins the intro, like a drizzling pour of soft rain. It’s almost like rubbing the edges of wine glasses with a damp finger’s edge in a sanctuary, that holy, ringing sound. Bruce kneels down in front of his mic holding his guitar mighty in the air in the most reverential pose we’ve seen him in. A prayerful stance open to interpretation; to Danny, to the fallen and wounded heroes, to the soldier in the song. He stands and in the most controlled passion I’ve ever heard in a voice speaks to the band “1…2…3…4…” as they enter into this sonic landscape set by Charlie. I’ll come clean and let it be known that I’m a Christian, all four of us are (Well, Katie’s Catholic. Good enough), so the perspective is undeniably colored from this way of life. I don’t intend to shove it down anyone’s throat, but it’s the only way to explain entirely what follows. Grant realizes what I’ve known for years, and he witnesses the five pack:
“I’ve been going to Church all my life and this matched the holy sincerity of most religious bands, and beats quite a few of them, a lot, actually. I know that I’m walking a fine line, and warn myself not to slip into Bruce-worship. But this ties into worship so much. In watching any human try, strive, and put forth themselves we can see God in them. And that’s a way to worship. The energy and commitment and honesty for the band had already induced this, but these songs - flowing in and out of each other - were a moment of release and surrender. I didn’t know them but that didn’t matter. If anything it freed me more so I could drink in this new thing, surrender and allow myself to be guided through the music.”
Devil’s Arcade is the best song on the Magic album, the live performance has only convinced me of this more. Here’s one of the millions of pictures I take away from the night; when Bruce took hold of his guitar and wailed out the voice of desire on six strings, there was a moment where I looked up and I saw his body completely take my field of view. The only light I could make out was behind him and he was showered in it, a soft halo enveloping his frame. O Holy Night. He turns around and Max pounds away, a military marching drum heart-beat. Bruce and the band stand in silence looking at Max for a lasting moment. Bruce motions softly, below his waist, a small wave. Max knows to end.
Now the heavens part. The Rising takes us through the valley of the shadow of death, but we fear no evil. Bruce’s voice remains immaculate on this and all songs throughout the night, I’m astounded by him. This is when Bob, the man to my left, came alive and became as physically active as I was and the arbitrary walls like age and time evaporated for a few stolen minutes. We were brothers, completely united in release and in spirit. The “Li li li” refrain begins and Kelsey gets Bruce-bumps all over. For the first time ever, I can hear Soozie’s violin in the mix and it’s a wonder. My ears are still ringing, but I feel like this is the price to pay for what we get, and for what we get, it’s a steal.
Last to Die is when we start getting the whole picture. Bruce is going at it on his guitar like he wants to shatter it into pieces. This one’s all about the intensity. He’s closing in on the message and he wants to make sure every last person gets it. His penchant for unrelenting drama is displayed magnificently. The cute crowd stuff is out for the moment, now he’s taking hold of us and pointing us towards the light…
It’s gonna be a Long Walk Home. This and Devil’s Arcade are gonna be the pantheon tracks from Magic. Ever since seeing it in Omaha and discovering Steven’s voice on this song, this has been an EPIC anthem, EPIC. Bruce crouches down next to Clarence and goes for it during C’s solo. No, Clarence isn’t doing the splits or dancing around anymore, but after his solo when Bruce sings “Everybody has a neighbor” and Clarence stands there pumping his fist, mouthing “Yeah!” to Bruce, there’s not a truer gesture of support and love and friendship between two men. When Steven’s about to take over, I turn to my friends and yell “Watch this!” but I’m and idiot and it’s not time yet. Bruce just stands there in absolute reflection of this music’s glory and message and calls upon us to sing it “Hey pretty darling don’t wait up for me. Gonna be a long walk home.” You can’t interpret this mic to the audience move as anything but a servant’s act. More clearly now than ever before, we know that we’re here to serve the band and the band is here to serve us and we become subject to one another just long enough to serve a higher spirit at work here. Nothing gold can stay, but for 26 songs this moment remains as golden as anything on this earth. He urges us to keep going as Steve steps to the mic and brings it to the ceiling of heaven. Steve’s voice trumpets it. He makes a hard and heavy climb up from the shadow of darkness and into redemption’s light. He takes the song and crying for mercy he gives it a soul. We press on. The duet of all these voices crying out for the same hope and redemption on this Houston night brings us to the light. We hear the resistance and the hard journey to get to that place and we get there and right when we do…
BADLANDS. Has there been a more perfect back-to-back set-list stapling? Thirty years come together before our eyes so effortlessly. They’ve gotta be hitting the high 900s playing this and yet the band turns on fire. Steven and Bruce take the mic in one of the most wonderful tableaus in rock and roll “For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside. That it aint so sin to be glad you’re alive” Kelsey’s crying and we’re all on fire. Katie says she’s never seen a man more enraptured in faith before then Bruce on this song. “He sang Terry’s song for Terry. He sang Badlands for Bruce” He believes in the faith that can save him, he’s not performing. There’s nothing hazy about it, he’s here for it. I swear he’s gonna kill his guitar.
Something is happening. He slams down the song and Max goes into one of the most intense drum fills I’ve ever seen and heard and Max is LIVING through this song. Bruce goes to the drum kit stand and takes a mouthful of water. Bruce spits in the face of these Badlands and showers himself in his own water as the song starts again. Then it has to end. Bruce takes a guitar pick and throws it down the stage entrance, a cue to Kevin Buell for something. What’s happening? The song slams down and the lights go out. They’re not taking any bows. I see a shiny weapon in his hand again, Katie and I trade glances trying to guess what’s next. The time I put it together is the time the first note eludes his lips. Katie and Kelsey stand behind me and say a perfectly simultaneous “OH. MY. GOD.” to the delighted laughter of those behind them. I turn around and hug my three friends with all the love my arms could give with the frenzied grip of someone who will never want to forget this night. I saw Thunder Road in Omaha, but marred by the substance induced shenanigans of Conor Oberst. This one was for real, this was it. When he sings the song, it’s not requisite or from the depths of twang-hell or a crowd-pleaser; he wants to sing it and he wants to sing it for us. I had hoped for so long to be able to hear it at least once, but I never imagined this moment in time would be mine for the taking.
The song is over, the set is a close. The band gathers and Kelsey assists me in getting my signs out and they are soon noticed. I wave them up, trying not to block anyone’s view, criss-crossing back and forth with them. Soozie sees it and is ADORABLE, laughing huge and making a big surprised expression when she sees it. I clutch my hand over my chest once more and gesture towards her, she blushes and laughs. Bruce has his arm around Nils and Charlie nudges them both to check it out, he’s laughing like crazy. My friends tell me this about Bruce and the guys, I don’t see, ‘cause I’m so intent on engaging with Soozie and Roy. Roy is laughing big and the dialogue started in Omaha continues. Garry’s laughing, Max sees it and starts laughing. There’s too much happening on this stage, I need this moment to stay forever. It can’t, and the band exits.
After seeing the heavy attention my signs got, Katie says to me “Why didn’t you make a sign that said ‘ROSIE COME OUT’?” I don’t think she was too worried about it a little bit later. Bob told us before the show that he thought Joe Ely would come and he apparently got it confirmed by a friend. We see them set up the guest spot mic and our suspicions are being confirmed. Or are they? Alejandro who? I won’t lie when I say that I was a little disappointed that the band started the encore with a song none of us knew. That disappointment soon faded away into happy. Apparently you couldn’t see it from other parts of the arena, but the way Bruce was moving around on this one was downright stupid CUTE. He was snapping his fingers back and forth and shaking his hips with all the abandon of a blissfully ignorant middle-school talent show contestant, and I mean this in the best possible sense. There was a true sense of release evident in his joy. You can’t see it on the videos because it’s way too close or hear it on the boot but this was too much fun. Think of the Dancing in the Dark video, now think if that was for real. He crooned these words to us so sweet, “Always a friend to you!” and you could tell he wasn’t doing anything but loving this.
Bruce says “Well I think we have another Texas friend. I love Texas songwriters!” and sure enough, Bob called it. He was even singing along to All Just To Get To You, confirming that in body maybe the man isn’t so young anymore but in spirit he’s right with us. I was a little embarrassed not being as familiar with it as I should’ve been. Bruce and Joe were going head to head in the best possible way. It’s almost a good thing that we were all unfamiliar with these songs. We enjoyed them immensely, but we were allowed a brief break to cool the jets on our night of Texas madness.
Joe leaves the stage and I hear him call it out: “ROSIE!” He’s calling it to the band. I turn around and look at Katie, assuming she heard what I heard. She didn’t, but she smiles at me. He says “Are you ready to dance?” We say “Yes!” and I don’t turn around for a second. I keep my eyes on Katie and he plays it on his guitar, F to B flat to F to C. Katie’s face goes from 0 to 400 in 1 second flat and I pull her up to where I am and we hug and dance with one in frenzy. This is one of my favorite images from the entire night and it is the realization of a promise never broken. Kelsey says this is the best sound her ears have ever heard. He does the samba back to the mic just in time to sing “Jack the Rabbit!” He swings around his stand and asks us what we’re gonna do “Play some pool! Skip some school!” It occurs to me now that, for this show, Katie and I did skip some school on Monday. This coincidence was, of course, the furthest thing from my mind. Have you ever tried to do hand motions for “Windows are for cheaters, chimney’s for the poor” while dancing in front of the best band in the world? Not as easy as it looks, and it looks pretty stupid anyway. Katie has the grace to push Kelsey up to the front midway through the song to let her have her own piece of the cross. There was a section of the song where we all hugged each other but kept dancing and looking up at the stage and this is where, once more, Bruce acknowledged the fervor by pointing and laughing to us. Katie swears she hears him yell “Come on, kids!” multiple times on the boot and that he’s referring to us and I’ll choose to believe that lofty theory. If you would’ve told me 6 months ago that I’d be on the lip of the stage in Houston with three of my best friends hearing this band play Rosalita I would’ve taken you for stupid. “Rosie in Texas?! Naww!” I would’ve said. I’m clearly not smart and thank God for that. The band goes stage left ‘cause Bruce shows love for all sections of the place and that classic stance is assumed; the band a mini-army line of rock and roll shooting notes and chords at a captive audience. Clarence breaks it down and Max goes crazy with his fills again. They come back and our guy yells defiantly “Now I know your mama she don’t like me, ’cause I play in a rock and roll band!” and grinds his guitar against mic stand so hard I can FEEL (and later heard about) the girls’ knees going bum at the sight of a beautiful man and his beautiful guitar. Clarence comes over and sings a line and Kelsey remembers how so wonderfully big his eyes got when he told us “Someday we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny” When Bruce sings “Little café, they play guitars all night and day” he puts his arms to his side in a little hula dancer gesture. He WANTS to play this song. Then it comes, the big build up. It just won’t stop, it just keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger and bigger. Bruce is a man possessed and begins barking like a wild dog or Curly the Stooge. It doesn’t matter, it’s just too much, it’s too hot, it’s…it’s…WOOO!!! The bridge climaxes and we’re drenched in the spirit. Where else is there to go?
And then the big one, Born to Run. There’s still not a more holy feeling in the rock and roll universe than all those lights going on and joining in communion with 20,000 brothers and sisters around you, crying out the same mission, the same purpose, the same love. And that’s what you get when you walk into this arena. No matter what level the fervor, you can look to each and every soul around you and know that you understand the same thing. You understand IT. Born to Run remains the altar call when we all lift our hearts to the throne not to, but with the man and his band TO the music. I know the vets will roll eyes when it hits in the set but this is just my fifth time and I can still hear it the way a virgin feels a tender kiss. I’m baptized by it. We got to take part in the absolute personification of this idea as during the break-down portion of the bridge Bruce locks onto me and plants directly in front of US once again. There is an inevitable push, not rough but a gentle sway of unbridled energy towards the man and his guitar. I strummed it tentatively, almost not knowing if it would break if I touched it. I eventually grabbed hold and clutched the neck of it for about a second. It was during this mass string-strumming that I see Bruce take his pick and slip it into John’s hand next to me with a knowing smile. During the “Whoa-oh!” portions I bring back my Lonesome Day maneuver and project myself higher using the stage platform. It’s notable that throughout the encores Soozie would look over to me with a certain frequency. One these times happened to be during the second verse as I sang “Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend. I wanna guard your dreams in visions” directly to her and she gazed so intently and lovingly towards me with all the love and generosity an artist can have with an audience. I realized what the implications of me singing “Just wrap your legs ‘round these velvet rims…” to her would be so I quickly switched focus to Bruce for the sake of decency.
So what’s gonna be next? Surely not Glory Days. Ramrod for its “yee-haw!” factor? No, Houston just has to be a little bit more special than those standards. The drum beat falls with the keys, that familiar rhythm so dangerously flirting with disco but coming out on the winning end of that battle. Bruce starts making his food bank speech and I assume that this is the closer. On the edge of exhaustion, my body rejoices while everything else protests. And he’s coming down and working the crowd like putty. “Give me some more. No no, some more!” pacing the platform like a general Patton commanding his army. He returns to his station and then come the best two numbers in the world “One twooo!!!” The man slams his body down on his knees and continues to defy everything we were taught about the relationship between age and rock and roll. He’s bent back, and I don’t mean he’s hanging around the microphone stand funny, I mean HE’S BENT BACK. He’s got one hand around his stand, one lying down and two knees pointing up to us, using his entire body as a middle finger to anybody who counted us out or down or not good enough and it is a wicked laugh to those that would say that rock and roll isn’t a man’s game. He’s down so long I almost fear something’s gone wrong, but he pops right up and launches into his myth of Scooter and the Big Man. He’s breathing hard but this isn’t a problem. Big Man hits his solo, we raise our hands, and the interracial high-five signifies friendship to the sea of white faces. The song ends and it’s still coming down while Bruce stands center stage and soaks up the night. He conducts his arms to the multi-chord gospel coda and Max rides right into American Land. He yells “We love you Texas!” and I got reason to believe it. Garry’s feeling peppy enough to take backing vocals for this one at Soozie’s regular mic. Grant pointed at Bruce and was rewarded with “a decisive twinkle, chuckle, smile, and nod”
The one moment of the night that will never leave my soul is this; the first key change in American Land Bruce makes his way over to Soozie. He’s crouching down like a hunter, ripping through his guitar and wielding the thing like an unholy shotgun, and he’s right directly in front of me. I see him, he sees me. I point to him, he sees me. I give him the gesture “come on” with my hands and mouth the words to him. He sees me. He locks in on the target. When the key changes back, he leaps into us and is playing directly above me. I feel the sweat and the weight of his body hit and I know that he’s playing for me. I could see his face looking at me through the tiny space between the guitar strings and body and I could see a legend who turned out to be the real thing. And in this moment, these few fleeting seconds of a song, a jump from the stage to me, I saw the meaning and definition and the history of everything that is rock and roll and Bruce Springsteen. Thanks, God.
The song continues and he’s sure to jump to another point for the second key change after the band intros, the last during which all members of the band were with us on this earth, and the show’s over. The band lines up and I pull out my signs again for Roy and Soozie, but I apparently I caught someone else’s attention too. Kelsey says when Max descended to the crowd he had a look on his face that was as exhausted as it was emotional, open to interpretation. No matter, he came down right in front of me with a smile on his face with his drumsticks in his hands. Through a cluster of hands he zig-zagged and swirled around until he found the two that belonged to me. He took them, and placed his instruments into my hands. I was humbled by the look on his face and this gesture of gratitude. I felt a tug on them and I saw a hand on them that didn’t belong to any of my guys. Some drunk lady was trying to get my sticks away. I pulled them from her hands quickly enough and held them close to my body. I made sure I was okay, I asked Max twice if they were for me and he nodded “Yes, yes” smiling at me. I hope I said thank you, and I know I should’ve said happy birthday. Katie warded off drunk lady as Soozie Tyrell locked eyes with me once more and threw me two of her guitar picks. There was too much happening in this moment, I needed more time than I was given, but I made out alright. I tried to make connection with everyone in the band as they left but there just wasn’t enough time. Our life is but a second on this earth as it is, and if one night is less than that than imagine how much desire I had for these guys to stay on this stage and play their music until we couldn’t stand any longer. Of course, I was close enough as it was, so maybe they left just in time.
We made our way to the back of the pit. Katie said I turned around and had a face white as a sheep and was shaking something terrible. My mom came down from her seated section and took pictures of us, all of which feature me with an identical, frozen expression upon my face. On our way out I remember trying to dodge drunk lady for any further confrontation and putting a dollar in the Houston food bank box. We took pictures outside, as if a couple of images could sufficiently express what our night was.
We entered the car, all of us, with something changed within us. I popped the trunk to get the ice-chest full of bottles of water that had been cooling for the past five hours. I gave Kelsey the ice chest and in the front seat she passed them out to everyone. We drank as we sat in silence, sweaty, disheveled, and beaten like mules. I lay my head against the steering wheel, still panting, on the edge of weeping, shook by the glory of a stolen April night's fleeting splendor. We remained in the car, wordless. Grant looked out the window and began to tear up. The traffic began filing out and I turned the key and started our way back home, making a sound that lay somewhere in the spectrum between laughing and crying. I gave my drumsticks to Kelsey and she held them like a four star general with nuclear codes; protective, cautious, and with honor. Katie said she felt like she just had sex with 20,000 people. She says she doesn’t know what she did in her life to deserve what we experienced that night. The three of us tried meekly to discuss the night in terms of a set-list, but even this is inadequate. Grant sat in solemn silence throughout, he couldn’t really say anything. And as he would put it later, in this car on highway 59, the four of us were shining.
We came home to my mother’s house and ate the food she prepared for us at midnight, egg burritos and waffles. We were trying to remember it all, all of it, an impossible feat even now. At around 1:00, we parted ways in our driveway, our hearts busted open and bleeding all over one another.
I can tell you with full confidence and in conviction and truth that this was our show. This was our show. This may have been your show too, but this was Grant’s show, it was Kelsey’s show, it was Katie’s show, and it was my show. It wasn’t great for a buncha guys in their 50s or for where he is in his career or for what it was or for the view. Keep your qualifiers and, quite frankly, shove ‘em, because this was a holy night for rock and roll. Even now we can’t fathom the significance of our night, as we took witness to the last show with each and every member of the mighty, mighty E Street Band with us on this earth. The show marks the end of a chapter, but for three young tramps it’s the first verse of a new book. I just had the pleasure of shining the light towards it.
A hundred million words would be inadequate to capture a piece of blessed life, so these ten thousand will have to suffice. My first show was in October. I was 17 years old and jumping up and down with Dave, Matt, and Howard in Philadelphia was a night I won’t forget. Six months and four shows later, I’m 18 years old and I’ve reached what I believe is the spiritual climax of my journey this tour. What more is there to ask for? What more is there to want? I’m left with nothing but thirst for more life, more love. I’m embarrassed in my excess of blessings. God blessed gave me a beautiful family and a tremendous set of friends. And then God created Bruce, and I got to listen to his music and go to his shows and share this love with these people in my life. I have nothing but gratitude for my experiences. I thank my mother, I thank Lisa for her kindness and encouragement. I thank my dear Grant, my lovely Kelsey, and my incomparable Katie. I thank a crowd that helped us push this band to their outermost limits. Even in her absence, I thank Patti for filling the man’s life with a love so fine to give him the strength to do exactly what he does. And I thank Roy, Max, Charlie, Nils, Soozie, Garry, Steven, Clarence, and Danny. And I thank Bruce for all of it. This man and his friends have informed my life with their noise. It’s a beautiful noise, bursting at the seams with passion and thought, sadness and joy, and a call for more life. We carry this fire in our hearts until the end. My name is Kevin. I’m 18 years old. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are alive, and the promise is unbroken.
It’s difficult to put this in context with Danny’s passing. Nothing’s the same now. And with the E Street Band, I never heard instruments. When you listen to music you can usually hear the instruments, the keys and chords and the notes emitting from them, but it was never like that for me. I always heard the people. I heard Clarence soar into the dark night of Jungleland, I heard the glory of Roy Bittan’s fingers on countless epics like Backstreets, and I heard Danny’s heart in everything, even when I couldn’t.
The last report I wrote was titled “Omaha - The Greatest Night Yet.” In the span of a mere month, that title is now out of date.
Dallas was a very good experience marred only by missing the pit by a mere 50 and a scuffle with some seriously obnoxious non-fans who cut their way in front of us during Gypsy Biker. Other than that, we met some great folks in the line and ended up having the time of our lives. My friend was kind enough to drive back the 4 hours after while I struggled to stay alive.
The guys arrive at my house around 3:20 while I was making some signs. Kelsey had made a shirt the night before with iron on letters on the back saying “TRAMPS LIKE US” which drew some questions from her teachers that day and an iron-on graphic of Bruce on the cover of Darkness on the top left corner. She was ready for it. I was told to throw away my LOHAD sign in Dallas but was undeterred from making another. Along with this one, I made two that said “THANK U ROY!” and “MARRY ME SOOZIE” The lettering was blocky and not very pretty looking, but very visible. The consensus was that it was unlikely the signs would get any attention.
We arrived at the arena at about 4:10. We made our way to the front of the Toyota Center to discover that they were on the high 200s for the wristband count, 266 to be precise. For some reason, I just asked and then decided not to get one and delayed. I talked to Gary, the wristband guy, asking how many were gonna be let in, and then I called a friend of mine just to check in with her.
Katie then said “Let’s just get the wristbands, it’s what we’re here for” So we tossed all superstitions and issues and nerves aside and just got the wristbands; 276, 277, 278, and 279. She says she felt God was there and was a guiding hand in this. I can’t say I disagree with her at this point. Let me diverge for a second and tell you about these friends of mine.
Kelsey (17) is girl who’s got music written on her face. If you asked her if she’d rather starve from food or from music for a month, she’d have to think about it awhile before she’d answer. Grant (18) is a guy of character and integrity whose tall stature and deep compassion has made him the implicit patriarch of the group, even though he’s a few months younger than I am. Katie’s (20) the girl straight from New York City who can turn on the attitude and switch to the strong heart of a mother’s care or the goofy fun of a sister on the turn of a dime. We were united, but tonight it was for this, this thing that we loved. I’ve sent them nearly every album through E-mails with small descriptions and the likelihood that he’d play each song. They dug in it deeply and became students of the school of rock and roll and exhibited the ability to know and love and understand and I love them for it. These are my three friends that came this night. And they all wanted to hear Rosie, especially Katie. She was encouraged when he didn’t play it in Dallas.
We went back to my car in the parking lot and started playing some stuff I was pretty sure would pop up in the set. We listened to the Nebraska version of Reason to Believe and discussed its true message. We talked about American Land and everything that it meant to uphold the image and perception of America.
We went back and got in line, herded like cattle into lines by the 100s. We made friendly with a man behind us named Adam (who, Kelsey pointed out later, did not raise a Cain. In fact, we didn’t ask him if he had children at all), who told us a nice tale about a man who missed a night launch of a space shuttle to see his 27th Bruce show in Dallas.
Then Gary decided it was time to announce. He did the shtick where he holds the jar too high for anyone to draw out of it. After this, the number was drawn before a hushed crowd
“2……..…6……..8”
I closed my eyes. It was at this point that I clutched my three friends with my arms in a death grip and buried by face in them, knowing what kind of night this was going to be. This was also a position we were to be found in several times later throughout the night. Kelsey said that my facial expression was the happiest she’d ever seen. She said later that it continued to reappear throughout the night. We were the 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th people let into the pit last night and while we tried to maintain our enthusiasm to keep from gloating over people who weren’t as fortunate, we weren’t as successful as we had hoped. I called my mother and told her what happened and she screamed the loudest scream I’ve ever heard from her. She’s my favorite mother, I love her so. When I told her about Dallas, she was disappointed about 10th Avenue opening because she suspected, knowing that Bruce should shuffle up the set-list, that Houston would most likely not receive 10th Avenue. She thought about trying to sell or give away her ticket.
We made our way in, stuffing my signs in Grant’s jacket and hoping for the best. Then the first bit of drama; the tickets weren’t scanning. There were two scanners set up at the door and we were about to get passed by people NOT in front of us. Somehow we got it and we managed to get down there without running. We managed a brisk walking pace as Jerry reminded us calmly, almost affectionately “There’s no one in front of you” and had us flash the wristbands and tickets as I said “Thank you, Mr. Fox” with all the implicit respect of a grade-schooler to his teacher. After a bit of a gallop, Katie was warned to walk and pointed out to security “But we were born to run!” but complied anyway.
We got down and saw EXACTLY how close we were talking. Seven people had their elbows on the stage, and I was the eighth. The shape of the four of us was a small diamond; myself in front on the stage, the two girls in the middle, and Grant behind. This formation was held successfully for more of the night than not. I asked Kelsey and Katie if they would like to be up on top of the stage, and they insisted, in all their sweetness, that I stay there. The thing about this was that they weren’t being polite or courteous or just plain nice, they wanted me there. That’s where they want me to be and wanted themselves to be. They had a great sight and with one to two people in front of you at most, no one’s getting a bad deal here. When I touched the stage I said “Both nights, I feel like this should be other people. I felt like the ugly confrontation in Dallas just happened to other people, not me. And I thought that this, being HERE tonight, so close, that only happens to other people” For a weekend, I got the two extremes of being other people. I knelt down before God and said a prayer of thanks and praise for this unprecedented fortune of blessing.
So we found ourselves planted roughly six feet from HIS microphone, a position we acquired purely by luck, chance, and a more than a little bit of God’s graces. We acknowledged the latter by saying a prayer before the show started, thanking him and asking a benediction over the night. I think he heard us. Katie asked me in all sincerity which was going to be better, this or my wedding night. I declined to respond in case any of them ever met my future wife, and at the end of the night, Katie would understand this response. Kelsey had a lump in her throat, Katie had Bruce-bumps, and Grant had a hungry stomach. Once again fulfilling his implicit role as benevolent provider, Grant went and got us pretzels and a big cup of water. He left and returned to his spot without a problem.
The guys ask when my mom’s getting there. My mother, whose infinite love and nurture has encouraged me and enabled me to follow this passion around the country, saw us and started waving to us like a high school cheerleader. We called and she screamed some more and waved to us in all of her maternal excitement. She’s a blessing every day, but it’s days like this that help me understand even better that she’s for real.
We attempted to befriend those around us to create a safe and fun pit environment. The man next to me was Bob, who was with his young grandson John. It was John’s first show and he was 2nd in line and secured a place against the stage the entire night, among other things (more on that later). The guys next to us were courteous but not very friendly. Not to suggest they were unpleasant in any fashion, just a little uninterested in, frankly, anything. They asked me to take a picture of them and I did and Katie kept bumping into them as the night proceeded, apologizing when necessary, but to no response. They were a decidedly neutral couple of fellows. Just to the right of these guys was our aforementioned friend Adam, citing Giants #3 as the best night. I think that changed for him too.
Unfortunately, it’s a big tent and with that comes the reality that some people are gonna wander in you wish wouldn’t. One of these people happened to be an intoxicated man right behind Grant. He started the hard liquor drinking outside before the show and throughout the pre-show wait acted in an obnoxious fashion, attempting to usher his “little girl” (who he had just met), who looked like she was in her late 30s to early 40s, further up in the pit. This included courting Katie’s submission, which was met with a firm, polite, concise “No” as it should be. It should be noted that all of this dissolved into nothing once the band took stage, as Grant puts it, “I know, somehow I just know that Bruce’s arrival will wipe away all the drunken tension or potential conflicts. I marvel at the almost Messianic parallels of the moment”
We saw them come out put down the set-list and then, not fifteen minutes later, replace it with a new one. Something was up. Either he saw the crowd or lack of crowd in the side sections or he just got antsy but something was happening backstage. People got pretty excited when the venue turned off the video billboards. There was a roar but I assured my guys that it wouldn’t happen until all the lights went off and we heard some calliope music.
The lights go out.
Grant mistook the Bruucing for booing, and when they came up he mistook Nils for Bruce because of the hair. Katie remembers it so perfectly: “Soozie’s lady-like waltz up the stairway. Max and Nils both made boy-like hops onto the platform. Charles and Roy ambled jauntily to their respective positions. No one had a more confident stride than Stevie though. And then rose the Big Man. Not until you see him (or his silhouette) in person can you fully understand why they call him the Big Man. During his ascent is when you get the first feeling of what you are about to see. The members of the band wait patiently as he does what he needs to do to get situated - a foreshadowing of how they will be behind Bruce all the way later. This was my first moment of realization.”
This is where I was magically transformed, in about 0.5 seconds, from a mildly-mannered, if not slightly bouncy, young gentleman into a simian creature, pounding at the stage and making panting noises like a gorilla, feasting on the life-blood of rock and roll. I turned to my friends and hugged them as one would with the knowledge that we were about to experience one of the greatest nights of our life.
Max gives tempo and I can tell what’s coming from the backbeat. In darkness Bruce is picking out that irrepressible guitar riff. The man lets out an impassioned scream of fun, rebellion, and pure love and the stage explodes in a symphony of light and sound and visual and music. It’s him, I remember a wash of blue and a whole lotta light and him. He plants himself in the classic wide-legged pose, looking over us, all of us, seeing what he’s working with, what he’s created, what he’s going to create, and what’s gonna happen. The band’s giving as good as it gets and that happens to be a good deal tonight. Certainly a more rockin’ version than Philly #2 in October, but that’s far from the point. He’s loose enough to wanna change the lyrics to “Texas night!” and do some cute shtick with Stevie “These gas prices are killin’ me!” and Stevie replies a goofy “Oh no!!”, despite the fact that gas prices haven’t affected either of these men in decades. There is a blessed air in the night tonight, and we feel the beginning wind blowing over us. After this was when another of several group hugs commenced throughout the night.
Then he asked the question I got the privilege of answering for the 5th time in my life, and for my friends, the very first:
“IS THERE ANYBODY ALIIIVE OUT THERE??”
The answer was an undeniable yes. From the very first time I heard it, the very first song I ever heard live from Bruce Springsteen, the song has only got cooked hotter and hotter and hotter. Certain mannerisms become familiar over time. The way he jumps up in the air to signal Clarence’s solo, his guitar attacks between the verse lines. And there’s that one line where he points to some lucky guy or gal in the crowd. In my experience, he’s always gestured to his right for that one, I assume out of habit. So then it comes:
Bopping through the wild blue
Trying to make a connection with YOU
And I see a face and hand directed point blank at ME. This isn’t the crowd-pleasing antic of a slick showman or an empty gesture. He’s deathly serious about making that connection and he’s serious about making that connection tonight with ME, along with 20,000 other brothers and sisters. Right when he pointed at me, I could hear my friends scream in joy and delight at the realization of my heart’s desire. I got to be the one on the other end of the line of Bruce and the band’s mission statement for the night, and for their entire lives. Connection is no longer a symbol or metaphor for anything else. It’s not an idea. It’s an action. It’s real.
For the rock-out coda, Max fills the pocket with as much break-down it can contain. The drum fills are out of my mind and they don’t stop with Radio Nowhere. Lonesome Day follows and the red-hot rhythms charge onto us. Say what you will but there’s no way you can’t believe the gospel refrain when it’s sung right in front of you: “It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, yeah!” I’ve been to some shows and for me the experience is always gonna be inherently physical, but the stage platform gives me a whole new thing to work with. I managed to get a little higher each time for each “yeah” by sustaining the rest of my body on one arm. I was almost scared at how easy it would be for some nut-job to climb on stage. Katie tells me she’s already exhausted and I know that about 20 songs later she’ll begin to completely understand the meaning of that word. Three songs in and Bruce has these four hearts in the palm of his hand.
Atlantic City is the night’s first big curveball. I know just from the back-beat what’s coming. Katie mentioned earlier that she didn’t want me ruining the songs before he played them, tongue-in-cheek of course. So I cup my mouth around Kelsey’s ear and whisper (yell) “ATLANTIC CITY!!” I remember coming down from the air on the instrumental refrain, beating the stage like it was the man who shot my Pa. Then it’s all taken down and we hear that like of desperation, the man begging his lover:
“Meet me tonight, in Atlantic City”
And it just builds….and builds….and builds….and builds….and builds….the man’s not faking it, he’s desperate and mighty and with arms outstretched he is in command of a captive audience who would ask of each other “meet me tonight” We did.
Magic is next. Bruce says Patti sends her love, to applause from us. He then mentions Danny, which receives a beautiful reception of cheers. Houston, Omaha, it doesn’t matter. The love is all the same and we’ll cheer for this man and his fight against illness until we can’t cheer anymore. He starts up and the song is hauntingly desolate and beautiful in its emptiness. Soozie makes the song, she MAKES it. I hold up the sign and I think they both see it but they don’t really acknowledge it. It was a mistake on my part, and one I would not repeat.
I’m expecting Reason to Believe next, of course. We listened to it in the car, surely he’ll be playing it next. But…oh yes…I see now. He’s running around the stage and telling the boys what to do. Roy starts the piano, I haven’t heard this, no one’s heard this on the tour. The intro is staggeringly beautiful and intimate in ways my brain can’t process. I start shaking and crying without tears. Katie and Kelsey suspect the same thing I do; New York City Serenade. Stevie starts making his guitar weep before the throne of Roy’s glorious keys and whatever it is, we’re enraptured in this. Then it falls down…Because the Night! I turn around to my guys and just scream “YEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!” We saw right before the song started, we saw Bruce walk up to Nils and whisper something into his ear; either to take the solo or not take the solo. After he whispered it, he went over to his mike and launched the crowd into this dark love’s drama. After the key change, it turns out, he told Nils to take the solo. I’ve never seen a hotter solo in my life, I thought the strings were going to catch fire. But the one thing that put the gas on my fire was watching Nils take it to the skies, and then turn to look at me, take a few steps toward me with locked eye contact, nod quick, then launch away. This is a very physical performance and in these few seconds of a moment we got what we gave, which is everything. It’s everything, we were burning. For Grant, this marks the beginning of the spiritual dimension the concert took for him. He describes it “It seemed that I wasn’t listening to the song from without, but it was being pulled up from within me by the artists.” I say to this, welcome to a Bruce show.
The band slams into Candy’s Room, Max’s cymbal hat is the ticking time-bomb of a wrecking crew about to strike. We were talking about this one in the car, how Max thinks the cymbal intro is laughably basic. Katie locked her eyes on him the whole song and he was AT IT for three minutes straight. I turn to Kelsey and whisper (yell) “CANDY’S ROOM!!” even though I’m pretty sure she knew exactly what the thing was as soon as Max started going. I remember being as goofily enthralled by the thing that I actually mimed knocking with my right hand when he sang “When I come knocking” I’m kind of an idiot for this stuff. We can’t recall but this may have been the first time Bruce locked down and graced us with his solos. Grant can’t recall the song, but can recall the feeling: “The crowd swelled around me, not shoving me forward, but lifting me forward in a natural crest-of-wave sort of way. They didn’t literally lift me up, but it’s the best way I can describe it.”
Out in the Street? For real now? This is a joke, right? In a lifetime spanning all of 18 years, there’s no way I’m getting this blessed, right? Not so, says Bruce and his 8 partners in crime. After living with this one for the longest time, I see it crystallize before my eyes as reality. Kelsey said I actually made motions of a box when he sang “Loading crates down on the dock” Again, I’m pretty stupid for this thing. When he sings “I’ll be waiting for you!” he points out the middle of our boisterous shed. We all got to meet each other tonight. I was a little disappointed Soozie didn’t join in for the “Meet me out in the street” section. I saw Steve, Nils, and Clarence take turns at the microphone around Bruce and after two years of driving in my car and put my steering wheel through the ringer while aping Max and listening to this song, I got the blessing of seeing it come alive before my eyes. Bruce was clearly loving this one, egging us for the “whoa-oh” parts with a smile on his face.
She’s the One cranked into gear. I think even Gary was on the maracas, which is always fun to see. I turned around to make sure my comrades got the “Ohhhh-ohhh she’s the one!” and nodded towards them. I think it was at this point that I couldn’t bounce both feet at the same time anymore and had to alternate left and right and then occasionally together. I don’t think Bruce noticed this slight dip in energy level on my part. Soozie’s rock and roll, strumming her black acoustic direct to the Bo Diddley beat. One of the best parts of the song was, obviously, when he took his guitar and grinded it against his mic stand and tossed it back to Kevin, who never fails to catch it but appeared a little pained to in this particular instance. He’s going nuts on the harmonica, I think this might be one of the several times he beckons us three feet away on the upper platform and looks right at me again for the “Hey!”
Right after, we see him reshuffling and getting the band in place and Clarence pulls his sax out for, yep, Livin’ in the Future. Bruce leans against the mic stand and reads his bit. At this point I can yell out with him, like a song “Rendition, illegal wiretapping, suppression of voter rights, suspension of habeas corpus” and when he says the mighty E Street Bad is there to sing about it, he is, again, not messing around (even though he is). He makes a joke; “Somebody’s been f*ckin’ with my passport!” much to the eventual dismay of my mother. I later reassure her, one F-bomb is a small price to pay for 26 songs of EVERYTHING. “A letter come blowin’ in” and he starts swinging wistfully around his mic stand like a kid dying to tell everyone he knows a secret he just found out. In comparison to the first leg, this is downright fun, despite darkness in the lyrics. At the end of it I’m looking at Soozie and she’s looking at me and I make a goofy gesture towards my tongue when he sings “Like when we kiss, that taste of blood on your tongue” He comes down to the platform for the 3rd verse and he’s singing “I’m rolling through town. Lost cowboy at sun-down” standing right over us, gesturing not unlike a hip hop star. We make eye contact again and he can tell that we know this one. He’s right over me for “My faith’s been torn asunder” and I make a tearing motion right beneath him. He then completes the hip-hop motif by crouching down to the camera with all the black attitude a 58 year old white man can summon, which turns out to be a bit. The song ends on a note unresolved and Bruce says “We need a new wind!” and I think the rest of us can feel it.
The Promised Land comes and I know it’s the Promised Land because I can see the shiny little weapon in his right hand before he counts “1, 2” and Max’s drums confidently stride the band into the horizon. I think this is where I grab Kelsey and Grant and Grant gives me a brother’s sweet kiss on the forehead. He needs to play this song at every E Street show, I never want it to leave because while I wasn’t quite so familiar with it less than a year ago, it’s now been ingrained into the very core of my being as a statement of purpose. I almost felt bad because I was very conscious of his harmonica and the kind of mood he was in and, yeah, he ended up tossing it to some lucky soul over on the right side of the pit. I was fixated on that for a little bit, but for the most part I just loved calling out the solos as if they were playing them at my command “Roy!!” “Big Maaaaaan!!!” Obviously that wasn’t the case, but still. The third verse is where it all comes together for me and all the piss and spit and vinegar of a man’s rage and frustration at dreams dead is embodied by Bruce, telling us to BLOW AWAY everything, all the lies. Kelsey’s got Bruce-bumps. For some reason, on the second “Blow away” I find myself singing a different melody, almost like harmony. Grant didn’t know the song in and out but by the end of it he was shouting the chorus with the rest of us, even if he did confuse for the night as “Throw away!” The details don’t matter, the meaning does. This night could be a snapshot of us, four young kids, in our youth sweating and panting for this promise not to be broken. We will spend the rest of our lives blowing away the lies. He tosses his harmonica to a kid in the front row on the right side of the stage.
The impossibly lovely sounding Girls in Their Summer Clothes followed the show’s first climax. When he said “This is for all the Texas girls” I turned around and pointed to Katie and Kelsey, making sure they knew he was talking about them. Stupid, I know, but it was fun seeing the joy in their faces. He came down and took a woman’s hand but made deliberate and prolonged eye contact with Kelsey throughout. I think I might’ve brushed by his hand during this one, which I felt a little guilty for because, after all, it’s for the Texas GIRLS. I like that he combined the “La la la las” with Clarence’s solo for a sweet little duet. I don’t know when it happened but there was a brief exchange with Nils. We saw each other and I clutched my hand over my heart and said “THANK YOU” to him and he just smiled big and waved at me, playing his guitar. Grant marveled at the level of intimacy within the connection Bruce made during this song. “He connected so much, clasping the hand for an eternity of the girl next to me. Going around, singling ladies out and SINGING TO THEM. How does he decide? I feel almost as if its beyond a superficial choice, as if there is some perceptive magic he has gained from the years and years of upturned lady faces; hopeful, joyous, awed faces” It was at this point that, probably for the first time in our lives, both Grant and I wished that we were a girl in our summer clothes.
And now Bruce is playing fast and loose and no one really quite knows what’s going on. He goes over to a young man named Quentin over on the right side of the pit. Quentin’s holding up a sign and we can’t make it out until Bruce turns it around for us. It’s bright and pink and we’re not sure what’s gonna happen. What, a Ramrod audible or Glory Days? That’s perfectly acceptable, of course. Who among us would complain? But no. No no. Whoever this little guy was, his taste leaned more towards the, you know, awesome side of the catalogue. This little pink sign had written upon it “The E Street Shuffle Please” Because of our proximity, our hysteria was launched before the rest of the arena joined in. He makes a comment that this song was written before Quentin’s grandfather was born, gives a shout out to Liberty Hall and talked about how it couldn’t have fit more than a hundred people in there. Everyone laughed and the master of mass connection, the guy making the arena feel like a living room, was in front of us. He asks the band if they remember it. I’m not quite sure that it’s happening to us. Texas? Us? We’re getting THE E Street Shuffle? Surely not because….oh, there he goes. Yeah, it’s happening. We got the E Street Shuffle and we’re dancing around like little angels in the pit. It’s getting a little squishy on the stage, trying to make some ground, which prevented me from turning to my friend as much as I would’ve liked to. He props the sign up against the mic stand and gives it back to him promptly after the song is done.
There’s some on-stage shuffling, and we’re about to witness a transcendent moment in Bruce history. I know it’s not Devil’s Arcade because he doesn’t play acoustic guitar for that one. We see him go get the harmonica contraption and put it on for whatever’s coming next. And we get a feeling for what it might be when he says it’s for a friend who passed away. He then says something about the Cox boys we understand later. I take Katie’s hand and clutch it tightly, we’re about to see a song he’s never played before a concert audience, an E Street, world premiere. And we know what it is. All we need for confirmation is Roy’s fingers falling onto keys. It’s Terry’s Song. This is a moment. The arena was as quiet as I’ve ever heard one. Nils comes from out of the darkness and provides Bruce with worthy backing vocals. His posture before is absolutely perfect, walking slowly to the mic with his hand over his face, quite a difference from the guitar god of a mere seven songs ago. His contribution is reminiscent of the contribution made by all the band members during the Reunion Tour performances of If I Should Fall Behind, delicate power. The song ends and we’ve witnessed so much beauty before us, a man’s song for a friend fallen.
Silence in the arena. Devil’s Arcade kicks off the five pack in its entirety. Bruce kneels down at his mic. Charlie begins the intro, like a drizzling pour of soft rain. It’s almost like rubbing the edges of wine glasses with a damp finger’s edge in a sanctuary, that holy, ringing sound. Bruce kneels down in front of his mic holding his guitar mighty in the air in the most reverential pose we’ve seen him in. A prayerful stance open to interpretation; to Danny, to the fallen and wounded heroes, to the soldier in the song. He stands and in the most controlled passion I’ve ever heard in a voice speaks to the band “1…2…3…4…” as they enter into this sonic landscape set by Charlie. I’ll come clean and let it be known that I’m a Christian, all four of us are (Well, Katie’s Catholic. Good enough), so the perspective is undeniably colored from this way of life. I don’t intend to shove it down anyone’s throat, but it’s the only way to explain entirely what follows. Grant realizes what I’ve known for years, and he witnesses the five pack:
“I’ve been going to Church all my life and this matched the holy sincerity of most religious bands, and beats quite a few of them, a lot, actually. I know that I’m walking a fine line, and warn myself not to slip into Bruce-worship. But this ties into worship so much. In watching any human try, strive, and put forth themselves we can see God in them. And that’s a way to worship. The energy and commitment and honesty for the band had already induced this, but these songs - flowing in and out of each other - were a moment of release and surrender. I didn’t know them but that didn’t matter. If anything it freed me more so I could drink in this new thing, surrender and allow myself to be guided through the music.”
Devil’s Arcade is the best song on the Magic album, the live performance has only convinced me of this more. Here’s one of the millions of pictures I take away from the night; when Bruce took hold of his guitar and wailed out the voice of desire on six strings, there was a moment where I looked up and I saw his body completely take my field of view. The only light I could make out was behind him and he was showered in it, a soft halo enveloping his frame. O Holy Night. He turns around and Max pounds away, a military marching drum heart-beat. Bruce and the band stand in silence looking at Max for a lasting moment. Bruce motions softly, below his waist, a small wave. Max knows to end.
Now the heavens part. The Rising takes us through the valley of the shadow of death, but we fear no evil. Bruce’s voice remains immaculate on this and all songs throughout the night, I’m astounded by him. This is when Bob, the man to my left, came alive and became as physically active as I was and the arbitrary walls like age and time evaporated for a few stolen minutes. We were brothers, completely united in release and in spirit. The “Li li li” refrain begins and Kelsey gets Bruce-bumps all over. For the first time ever, I can hear Soozie’s violin in the mix and it’s a wonder. My ears are still ringing, but I feel like this is the price to pay for what we get, and for what we get, it’s a steal.
Last to Die is when we start getting the whole picture. Bruce is going at it on his guitar like he wants to shatter it into pieces. This one’s all about the intensity. He’s closing in on the message and he wants to make sure every last person gets it. His penchant for unrelenting drama is displayed magnificently. The cute crowd stuff is out for the moment, now he’s taking hold of us and pointing us towards the light…
It’s gonna be a Long Walk Home. This and Devil’s Arcade are gonna be the pantheon tracks from Magic. Ever since seeing it in Omaha and discovering Steven’s voice on this song, this has been an EPIC anthem, EPIC. Bruce crouches down next to Clarence and goes for it during C’s solo. No, Clarence isn’t doing the splits or dancing around anymore, but after his solo when Bruce sings “Everybody has a neighbor” and Clarence stands there pumping his fist, mouthing “Yeah!” to Bruce, there’s not a truer gesture of support and love and friendship between two men. When Steven’s about to take over, I turn to my friends and yell “Watch this!” but I’m and idiot and it’s not time yet. Bruce just stands there in absolute reflection of this music’s glory and message and calls upon us to sing it “Hey pretty darling don’t wait up for me. Gonna be a long walk home.” You can’t interpret this mic to the audience move as anything but a servant’s act. More clearly now than ever before, we know that we’re here to serve the band and the band is here to serve us and we become subject to one another just long enough to serve a higher spirit at work here. Nothing gold can stay, but for 26 songs this moment remains as golden as anything on this earth. He urges us to keep going as Steve steps to the mic and brings it to the ceiling of heaven. Steve’s voice trumpets it. He makes a hard and heavy climb up from the shadow of darkness and into redemption’s light. He takes the song and crying for mercy he gives it a soul. We press on. The duet of all these voices crying out for the same hope and redemption on this Houston night brings us to the light. We hear the resistance and the hard journey to get to that place and we get there and right when we do…
BADLANDS. Has there been a more perfect back-to-back set-list stapling? Thirty years come together before our eyes so effortlessly. They’ve gotta be hitting the high 900s playing this and yet the band turns on fire. Steven and Bruce take the mic in one of the most wonderful tableaus in rock and roll “For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside. That it aint so sin to be glad you’re alive” Kelsey’s crying and we’re all on fire. Katie says she’s never seen a man more enraptured in faith before then Bruce on this song. “He sang Terry’s song for Terry. He sang Badlands for Bruce” He believes in the faith that can save him, he’s not performing. There’s nothing hazy about it, he’s here for it. I swear he’s gonna kill his guitar.
Something is happening. He slams down the song and Max goes into one of the most intense drum fills I’ve ever seen and heard and Max is LIVING through this song. Bruce goes to the drum kit stand and takes a mouthful of water. Bruce spits in the face of these Badlands and showers himself in his own water as the song starts again. Then it has to end. Bruce takes a guitar pick and throws it down the stage entrance, a cue to Kevin Buell for something. What’s happening? The song slams down and the lights go out. They’re not taking any bows. I see a shiny weapon in his hand again, Katie and I trade glances trying to guess what’s next. The time I put it together is the time the first note eludes his lips. Katie and Kelsey stand behind me and say a perfectly simultaneous “OH. MY. GOD.” to the delighted laughter of those behind them. I turn around and hug my three friends with all the love my arms could give with the frenzied grip of someone who will never want to forget this night. I saw Thunder Road in Omaha, but marred by the substance induced shenanigans of Conor Oberst. This one was for real, this was it. When he sings the song, it’s not requisite or from the depths of twang-hell or a crowd-pleaser; he wants to sing it and he wants to sing it for us. I had hoped for so long to be able to hear it at least once, but I never imagined this moment in time would be mine for the taking.
The song is over, the set is a close. The band gathers and Kelsey assists me in getting my signs out and they are soon noticed. I wave them up, trying not to block anyone’s view, criss-crossing back and forth with them. Soozie sees it and is ADORABLE, laughing huge and making a big surprised expression when she sees it. I clutch my hand over my chest once more and gesture towards her, she blushes and laughs. Bruce has his arm around Nils and Charlie nudges them both to check it out, he’s laughing like crazy. My friends tell me this about Bruce and the guys, I don’t see, ‘cause I’m so intent on engaging with Soozie and Roy. Roy is laughing big and the dialogue started in Omaha continues. Garry’s laughing, Max sees it and starts laughing. There’s too much happening on this stage, I need this moment to stay forever. It can’t, and the band exits.
After seeing the heavy attention my signs got, Katie says to me “Why didn’t you make a sign that said ‘ROSIE COME OUT’?” I don’t think she was too worried about it a little bit later. Bob told us before the show that he thought Joe Ely would come and he apparently got it confirmed by a friend. We see them set up the guest spot mic and our suspicions are being confirmed. Or are they? Alejandro who? I won’t lie when I say that I was a little disappointed that the band started the encore with a song none of us knew. That disappointment soon faded away into happy. Apparently you couldn’t see it from other parts of the arena, but the way Bruce was moving around on this one was downright stupid CUTE. He was snapping his fingers back and forth and shaking his hips with all the abandon of a blissfully ignorant middle-school talent show contestant, and I mean this in the best possible sense. There was a true sense of release evident in his joy. You can’t see it on the videos because it’s way too close or hear it on the boot but this was too much fun. Think of the Dancing in the Dark video, now think if that was for real. He crooned these words to us so sweet, “Always a friend to you!” and you could tell he wasn’t doing anything but loving this.
Bruce says “Well I think we have another Texas friend. I love Texas songwriters!” and sure enough, Bob called it. He was even singing along to All Just To Get To You, confirming that in body maybe the man isn’t so young anymore but in spirit he’s right with us. I was a little embarrassed not being as familiar with it as I should’ve been. Bruce and Joe were going head to head in the best possible way. It’s almost a good thing that we were all unfamiliar with these songs. We enjoyed them immensely, but we were allowed a brief break to cool the jets on our night of Texas madness.
Joe leaves the stage and I hear him call it out: “ROSIE!” He’s calling it to the band. I turn around and look at Katie, assuming she heard what I heard. She didn’t, but she smiles at me. He says “Are you ready to dance?” We say “Yes!” and I don’t turn around for a second. I keep my eyes on Katie and he plays it on his guitar, F to B flat to F to C. Katie’s face goes from 0 to 400 in 1 second flat and I pull her up to where I am and we hug and dance with one in frenzy. This is one of my favorite images from the entire night and it is the realization of a promise never broken. Kelsey says this is the best sound her ears have ever heard. He does the samba back to the mic just in time to sing “Jack the Rabbit!” He swings around his stand and asks us what we’re gonna do “Play some pool! Skip some school!” It occurs to me now that, for this show, Katie and I did skip some school on Monday. This coincidence was, of course, the furthest thing from my mind. Have you ever tried to do hand motions for “Windows are for cheaters, chimney’s for the poor” while dancing in front of the best band in the world? Not as easy as it looks, and it looks pretty stupid anyway. Katie has the grace to push Kelsey up to the front midway through the song to let her have her own piece of the cross. There was a section of the song where we all hugged each other but kept dancing and looking up at the stage and this is where, once more, Bruce acknowledged the fervor by pointing and laughing to us. Katie swears she hears him yell “Come on, kids!” multiple times on the boot and that he’s referring to us and I’ll choose to believe that lofty theory. If you would’ve told me 6 months ago that I’d be on the lip of the stage in Houston with three of my best friends hearing this band play Rosalita I would’ve taken you for stupid. “Rosie in Texas?! Naww!” I would’ve said. I’m clearly not smart and thank God for that. The band goes stage left ‘cause Bruce shows love for all sections of the place and that classic stance is assumed; the band a mini-army line of rock and roll shooting notes and chords at a captive audience. Clarence breaks it down and Max goes crazy with his fills again. They come back and our guy yells defiantly “Now I know your mama she don’t like me, ’cause I play in a rock and roll band!” and grinds his guitar against mic stand so hard I can FEEL (and later heard about) the girls’ knees going bum at the sight of a beautiful man and his beautiful guitar. Clarence comes over and sings a line and Kelsey remembers how so wonderfully big his eyes got when he told us “Someday we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny” When Bruce sings “Little café, they play guitars all night and day” he puts his arms to his side in a little hula dancer gesture. He WANTS to play this song. Then it comes, the big build up. It just won’t stop, it just keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger and bigger. Bruce is a man possessed and begins barking like a wild dog or Curly the Stooge. It doesn’t matter, it’s just too much, it’s too hot, it’s…it’s…WOOO!!! The bridge climaxes and we’re drenched in the spirit. Where else is there to go?
And then the big one, Born to Run. There’s still not a more holy feeling in the rock and roll universe than all those lights going on and joining in communion with 20,000 brothers and sisters around you, crying out the same mission, the same purpose, the same love. And that’s what you get when you walk into this arena. No matter what level the fervor, you can look to each and every soul around you and know that you understand the same thing. You understand IT. Born to Run remains the altar call when we all lift our hearts to the throne not to, but with the man and his band TO the music. I know the vets will roll eyes when it hits in the set but this is just my fifth time and I can still hear it the way a virgin feels a tender kiss. I’m baptized by it. We got to take part in the absolute personification of this idea as during the break-down portion of the bridge Bruce locks onto me and plants directly in front of US once again. There is an inevitable push, not rough but a gentle sway of unbridled energy towards the man and his guitar. I strummed it tentatively, almost not knowing if it would break if I touched it. I eventually grabbed hold and clutched the neck of it for about a second. It was during this mass string-strumming that I see Bruce take his pick and slip it into John’s hand next to me with a knowing smile. During the “Whoa-oh!” portions I bring back my Lonesome Day maneuver and project myself higher using the stage platform. It’s notable that throughout the encores Soozie would look over to me with a certain frequency. One these times happened to be during the second verse as I sang “Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend. I wanna guard your dreams in visions” directly to her and she gazed so intently and lovingly towards me with all the love and generosity an artist can have with an audience. I realized what the implications of me singing “Just wrap your legs ‘round these velvet rims…” to her would be so I quickly switched focus to Bruce for the sake of decency.
So what’s gonna be next? Surely not Glory Days. Ramrod for its “yee-haw!” factor? No, Houston just has to be a little bit more special than those standards. The drum beat falls with the keys, that familiar rhythm so dangerously flirting with disco but coming out on the winning end of that battle. Bruce starts making his food bank speech and I assume that this is the closer. On the edge of exhaustion, my body rejoices while everything else protests. And he’s coming down and working the crowd like putty. “Give me some more. No no, some more!” pacing the platform like a general Patton commanding his army. He returns to his station and then come the best two numbers in the world “One twooo!!!” The man slams his body down on his knees and continues to defy everything we were taught about the relationship between age and rock and roll. He’s bent back, and I don’t mean he’s hanging around the microphone stand funny, I mean HE’S BENT BACK. He’s got one hand around his stand, one lying down and two knees pointing up to us, using his entire body as a middle finger to anybody who counted us out or down or not good enough and it is a wicked laugh to those that would say that rock and roll isn’t a man’s game. He’s down so long I almost fear something’s gone wrong, but he pops right up and launches into his myth of Scooter and the Big Man. He’s breathing hard but this isn’t a problem. Big Man hits his solo, we raise our hands, and the interracial high-five signifies friendship to the sea of white faces. The song ends and it’s still coming down while Bruce stands center stage and soaks up the night. He conducts his arms to the multi-chord gospel coda and Max rides right into American Land. He yells “We love you Texas!” and I got reason to believe it. Garry’s feeling peppy enough to take backing vocals for this one at Soozie’s regular mic. Grant pointed at Bruce and was rewarded with “a decisive twinkle, chuckle, smile, and nod”
The one moment of the night that will never leave my soul is this; the first key change in American Land Bruce makes his way over to Soozie. He’s crouching down like a hunter, ripping through his guitar and wielding the thing like an unholy shotgun, and he’s right directly in front of me. I see him, he sees me. I point to him, he sees me. I give him the gesture “come on” with my hands and mouth the words to him. He sees me. He locks in on the target. When the key changes back, he leaps into us and is playing directly above me. I feel the sweat and the weight of his body hit and I know that he’s playing for me. I could see his face looking at me through the tiny space between the guitar strings and body and I could see a legend who turned out to be the real thing. And in this moment, these few fleeting seconds of a song, a jump from the stage to me, I saw the meaning and definition and the history of everything that is rock and roll and Bruce Springsteen. Thanks, God.
The song continues and he’s sure to jump to another point for the second key change after the band intros, the last during which all members of the band were with us on this earth, and the show’s over. The band lines up and I pull out my signs again for Roy and Soozie, but I apparently I caught someone else’s attention too. Kelsey says when Max descended to the crowd he had a look on his face that was as exhausted as it was emotional, open to interpretation. No matter, he came down right in front of me with a smile on his face with his drumsticks in his hands. Through a cluster of hands he zig-zagged and swirled around until he found the two that belonged to me. He took them, and placed his instruments into my hands. I was humbled by the look on his face and this gesture of gratitude. I felt a tug on them and I saw a hand on them that didn’t belong to any of my guys. Some drunk lady was trying to get my sticks away. I pulled them from her hands quickly enough and held them close to my body. I made sure I was okay, I asked Max twice if they were for me and he nodded “Yes, yes” smiling at me. I hope I said thank you, and I know I should’ve said happy birthday. Katie warded off drunk lady as Soozie Tyrell locked eyes with me once more and threw me two of her guitar picks. There was too much happening in this moment, I needed more time than I was given, but I made out alright. I tried to make connection with everyone in the band as they left but there just wasn’t enough time. Our life is but a second on this earth as it is, and if one night is less than that than imagine how much desire I had for these guys to stay on this stage and play their music until we couldn’t stand any longer. Of course, I was close enough as it was, so maybe they left just in time.
We made our way to the back of the pit. Katie said I turned around and had a face white as a sheep and was shaking something terrible. My mom came down from her seated section and took pictures of us, all of which feature me with an identical, frozen expression upon my face. On our way out I remember trying to dodge drunk lady for any further confrontation and putting a dollar in the Houston food bank box. We took pictures outside, as if a couple of images could sufficiently express what our night was.
We entered the car, all of us, with something changed within us. I popped the trunk to get the ice-chest full of bottles of water that had been cooling for the past five hours. I gave Kelsey the ice chest and in the front seat she passed them out to everyone. We drank as we sat in silence, sweaty, disheveled, and beaten like mules. I lay my head against the steering wheel, still panting, on the edge of weeping, shook by the glory of a stolen April night's fleeting splendor. We remained in the car, wordless. Grant looked out the window and began to tear up. The traffic began filing out and I turned the key and started our way back home, making a sound that lay somewhere in the spectrum between laughing and crying. I gave my drumsticks to Kelsey and she held them like a four star general with nuclear codes; protective, cautious, and with honor. Katie said she felt like she just had sex with 20,000 people. She says she doesn’t know what she did in her life to deserve what we experienced that night. The three of us tried meekly to discuss the night in terms of a set-list, but even this is inadequate. Grant sat in solemn silence throughout, he couldn’t really say anything. And as he would put it later, in this car on highway 59, the four of us were shining.
We came home to my mother’s house and ate the food she prepared for us at midnight, egg burritos and waffles. We were trying to remember it all, all of it, an impossible feat even now. At around 1:00, we parted ways in our driveway, our hearts busted open and bleeding all over one another.
I can tell you with full confidence and in conviction and truth that this was our show. This was our show. This may have been your show too, but this was Grant’s show, it was Kelsey’s show, it was Katie’s show, and it was my show. It wasn’t great for a buncha guys in their 50s or for where he is in his career or for what it was or for the view. Keep your qualifiers and, quite frankly, shove ‘em, because this was a holy night for rock and roll. Even now we can’t fathom the significance of our night, as we took witness to the last show with each and every member of the mighty, mighty E Street Band with us on this earth. The show marks the end of a chapter, but for three young tramps it’s the first verse of a new book. I just had the pleasure of shining the light towards it.
A hundred million words would be inadequate to capture a piece of blessed life, so these ten thousand will have to suffice. My first show was in October. I was 17 years old and jumping up and down with Dave, Matt, and Howard in Philadelphia was a night I won’t forget. Six months and four shows later, I’m 18 years old and I’ve reached what I believe is the spiritual climax of my journey this tour. What more is there to ask for? What more is there to want? I’m left with nothing but thirst for more life, more love. I’m embarrassed in my excess of blessings. God blessed gave me a beautiful family and a tremendous set of friends. And then God created Bruce, and I got to listen to his music and go to his shows and share this love with these people in my life. I have nothing but gratitude for my experiences. I thank my mother, I thank Lisa for her kindness and encouragement. I thank my dear Grant, my lovely Kelsey, and my incomparable Katie. I thank a crowd that helped us push this band to their outermost limits. Even in her absence, I thank Patti for filling the man’s life with a love so fine to give him the strength to do exactly what he does. And I thank Roy, Max, Charlie, Nils, Soozie, Garry, Steven, Clarence, and Danny. And I thank Bruce for all of it. This man and his friends have informed my life with their noise. It’s a beautiful noise, bursting at the seams with passion and thought, sadness and joy, and a call for more life. We carry this fire in our hearts until the end. My name is Kevin. I’m 18 years old. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are alive, and the promise is unbroken.