I am using my step dad’s incomplete list of concerts he attended to try to piece together my history of seeing Bruce Springsteen. John is pretty much house-bound now so he doesn’t go to shows anymore, but he was quite the prolific gig attendee for many years. The spreadsheet that starts with Wayne Fontana in 1964 and ends with er… Jerry Seinfeld in 2019 some 498 lines later is thorough, but not the whole story of the life spent embracing the wonder of music.
But thanks to this list (and a bit of digging on Setlist.fm, my old friend) I can chart many shows that were important to me too - not least the ones where he, me and my mum went to see Bruce Springsteen together. Back in 2003, he started a show playing a sombre, acoustic version of Born In The USA (Bruce, that is, not John). The tour was in support of The Rising, his most recent album that was written in response to 9/11, but my enduring interpretation of this rendition was also that it was also a reaction to the then recent US invasion of Iraq. I remember it being a jarring way to open proceedings; Crystal Palace was abuzz with anticipation and he had no qualms about plunging the good vibes into a bucket of cold water (more on that later) to make a point.
Not much has changed in the 22 years since - both in terms of governments operating with violence and cruelty, and in terms of Bruce not shying away from using his platform to make his feelings about those actions clear. I went to see him perform at Co-op Live in Manchester this week, and the set was punctuated with his impassioned monologues, which seemed for all the world like the words of a man grappling with disbelief of the state of world.
At the top of the show he earnestly explained that he and the E Street Band were there to call upon “the righteous power of art, of music, of rock and roll in dangerous times” - which set the tone for the rest of the night. Patriotism is pretty alien to me, but I can recognise the desire to believe that country you’re from hasn’t sunk so far into the abyss that its irretrievable.
When I bought the extravagantly priced tickets for this show, I was more abundantly employed than I currently am and thought that I’d really rather better take my partner to see Bruce before the chance is gone forever. He’s 75 (Bruce, not my boyfriend), so I thought that perhaps retirement may be looming. By the time I left the show, I was convinced that he has another decade left on the stage should he want to spend his time there. But whether he will live long enough to see the redemption of the country he loves so much, I’m really not sure.
I guess there probably were some people there among the 23,000 who shuffled uncomfortably in their seats at these speeches (you can watch some of those speeches here). It’s not uncommon to hear people talk about politics at underground shows where their lived experiences are very tightly woven into the art they make. Maybe it’s presented in a more polished way when you’re delivering the message to thousands instead of dozens, but it doesn’t make it any less important to use your voice when and where you can. Hailing from New Jersey is not the only thing that Bruce has in common with sludge band Sunrot; he (slightly mis-)quoted activist and writer James Baldwin to further make his hopeful stance clear:
“In this world there isn't as much humanity as one would like, but there's enough”
(Sunrot use a sample of Baldwin’s voice on the closing track of The Unfailing Rope)
The juxtaposition of a sombre message and the hope that Bruce delivers somehow makes perfect sense, however. It’s that righteous power in full effect. You don’t have to ignore the ills of the outside world entirely to be able to find joy and humanity inside the concert hall - these two things are a part of life, both are acknowledged there.
So, finding joy is exactly what I did. For years, I have waited to hear Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band performing Because The Night. A large part of me thought that I would never get the chance. It’s been in semi-regular rotation over the years, but it’s never been played live at the shows I’ve been to; his set list changes night to night. I saw E Street member Nils Lofgren play it in 2005 at Shepherd’s Bush Empire (John’s spreadsheet backing up my hazy memory here), but the full Bruce experience has eluded me.
The song was popularised by Patti Smith; it appears on her 1978 album Easter. It was originally written by Bruce for the Darkness on the Edge of Town album in 1977 but remained unfinished. Eventually, producer Jimmy Iovine asked if Patti could make use of the half-written song. With her lyrics, the song was complete and it became one of her best known tracks. It’s been covered by a bunch of people, but the less said about those versions the better.
When I meet other people who have seen Bruce live, I always ask if they’ve seen him play this song and most times people say that yes, they have. It started to become my white whale - and something that remained outside of my control. Sometimes I feel strong and powerful but never to the extent that I could psychically convince Bruce to play a song I wanted. Would I be destined to spend my life savings in pursuit of hearing this song live? And if I eventually did see it, would it live up to my expectations?
I can confirm now that I haven’t had to spent my life savings, and it actually exceeded my expectations.
Half way through Letter To You, the man sat to my left stood up went out of the arena. An amateur move, I thought to myself, clearly he has no anticipation for what song might be next. You can complete a well executed trip to the toilet or the bar (but not both) within the space of one song, but you risk missing something golden if you casually go at some random moment in proceedings. And then as if to prove my point, Roy Bittan played the opening notes of Because The Night on the piano, and I, quite frankly, lost my mind.
My mum asked me if I danced. No, mother - I cried. I felt enveloped by a swirling red cloud of lights and music, and I cried because it was everything I wanted it to be. It was joyous, and it was beautiful. When Nils Lofgren span on his heel half a dozen times at the climax of the song, my world was spinning too. No matter how much I grasp into the ether, I can’t locate the vocabulary that will do it justice. It was an experience that - I think - if I try really hard, I can transport myself back to; a more feint version of it, a facsimile of a moment that I never want to let go of.
Earlier in the night we had been laughing at the ridiculous prices of everything: £9 for a pint; £35 for a hat (yes I bought it); £10 for some chips. But as I sat in the afterglow, I thought that there is no amount of money I wouldn’t spend to feel that feeling. In the cold light of day, as I type this, I am only slightly more sensible. I wouldn’t completely empty my bank account, but I would pay more than is fiscally wise to return to that moment and live in that performance for another few minutes.
I was delighted to spend a Wednesday in the company of Bruce Springsteen - because of both the joy and because of his willingness to speak truth to power, albeit in an arena-friendly manner. As we left the venue, Woodie Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land played over the PA; a protest song that Bruce has played plenty of times himself.
I guess when other writers insert (more on that later) into their text, they already wrote the thing that they’re alluding to so know it’s definitely coming up in a bit. I didn’t do that but I am a woman of my word. I really just wanted to tell you that it used to be one of my favourite pop facts to tell people that Bruce Springsteen had to sponge down his legs before doing his famous knee slides due to health and safety, and the risk of him catching fire. You can see him both sponging and sliding in this clip. I saw Bruce on that tour in 2008. In fact, I broke up with my boyfriend at the time because he was not suitably enthused by the whole Bruce experience. I mean, there were other things too, but that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. No regrets.
He doesn’t do the knee slides anymore, but not much else has changed. John might not be able to attend anymore, but I’m happy to pick up the baton on his behalf. Long live Bruce.
If you’re looking for something to listen to that is not Bruce Springsteen then I recommend the new album by Milkweed. It’s folk, but not as you know it. They’re also playing in Glossop tomorrow night; if you’re in the vicinity, you should come.
And there’s a new single from Pygmy Lush (album coming this summer). It’s great, obviously.
That’s all for now.
~Becky
In the noble tradition of handsome men wearing oxblood DMs on stage (see also Bill Steer, Tomas Lindberg), image below shows Bruce Springsteen on stage in Manchester.
I really enjoyed this one