So...... that's what all the fuss is about.
Holy shit.
My ticket karma didn't hold. My seats were pretty far back. At least they were on the aisle, so instead of kicking the chair next to me, I would sometimes totter at the edge of the step.
But who cares about that when I think I just saw a miracle. Finally, I know what people are talking about when they talk about Bruce Springsteen.
And here's the crazy thing: it happened during the encore. It'd been a fantastic show, don't get me wrong, but during the encore something happened that just sent the energy level rocketing straight through the roof. I wish I could tell you what it was, I really do, but all of a sudden I realized something fucking miraculous was happening right in front of my eyes.
The band had played for around two hours, and I'd been really enjoying it, the whole set was noticeably both looser and tighter then in San Jose. I don't think I need to mention that the band sounded great, but they did, and my Dad, for one, left a devout fan of Max Weinberg: the Mighty One never stopped playing ONCE during the entire 2 hour and 45 minute set. While other people got to breath, Max did drum-rolls. Whatever stiffness he had in San Jose was not there this time. What a drummer.
Again, you're going to have to go somewhere else for the setlist, but it felt like he'd got the kinks worked out and settled down into a song collection that came on like a hurricane without breaking any of the pale hips in the audience. Two songs in the main set and one in the encore were sign requests: him grabbing them up, piling them on the stage, and plunging in like a kid jumping into a leaf pile in the fall, sending the rejected signs flying in all directions until he found the perfect one. Then he ran around showing it to the band members before leaning it against the mic stand where the camera could finally show it to the audience. Both songs were pretty amazing. I think "Spirit in the Night" might be a new favorite of mine. And Bruce actually talked to the crowd, both name-dropping extortions to get the LA people riled up and a sermon about building a house of love and music out of all the good news and bad news. He'd avoided addressing the crowd for most of the San Jose show. Now he couldn't keep his hands off them.
Really, I thought he spent a lot of time on his catwalk before: I hadn't seen anything: I swear to God, Bruce did an actual STAGE DIVE. Honest to God, plunging into the crowd body-surfing. One of the security guys had a hold of him so he didn't go far, but still! Sheesh! I don't think a single song went by without him taking to the stage skirts at least once so's the people could feel those sturdy, age-defying legs of his.
It did it's job. Somewhere along the line it actually, finally hit me: I am standing in a room with Bruce Springsteen. If I were down there in the pit, I would be able to reach up and feel him. He's really there.
That feeling is worth a hundred youtube videos.
Far away as we were, I felt like we saw more of Springsteen. At times it was almost like he wasn't so much a singer performing a song as an actor creating a character, a bunch of them, and switching them around and blending them together.
I've been trying to figure out what made this show so intrinsically different from San Jose. One of the most obvious, and curious, things was the distinct lack of red on the stage. Patti Scialfa wasn't there, and maybe I was imagining it but it seemed like Bruce, Nils, and Steve were switching their guitars more often, perhaps to cover up for the lack of her blue acoustic. Before Bruce launched into "Kingdom of Days," the song that had been his nightly duet with his wife, he shouted "This one goes out to Pats! And the kids!"
In a way the song packed even more emotional punch when sung solo. It was still a celebration of love, except it was love turned bittersweet. And great as Patti Scialfa is (haters can suck it!) maybe her absence was a large part of what made Springsteen's character so complete. The last time he was playing to crowds facing foreclosures, layoffs, and bad debt, it was the 80s and Bruce was alone. Although he shared the spotlight with Clarence (the spotlight never leaves Clarence for very long: he'd be the star if he was in any band except this one) and calling Steve out to holler his backing vocals, but this night was all about Bruce. I've described him before as being full of holy fire. Well, tonight he must have thrown some holy kerosene on that holy fire, because he was shining bright enough to be visible from space.
And he was fired up, too. He pinwheeled on his guitar like a madman. He grabbed that microphone stand and spun around like a kid on a banister. His knee-slide has become a staple of his shows ever since he awesomely sent his crotch rocketing into the living rooms of millions of Americans on Superbowl Sunday.
And if that wasn't enough: everyone's favorite political populist pyrotechnic guitar monster Tom Morello appeared from the shadows, strapped on that colorful guitar of his, hiked up all the way to his chest as usual, and proceeded to burn the house down. Bruce echoed the outraged screaming visually, holding down rhythm guitar from a fighter's crouch, eyes never leaving Morello, though he could not contain some awestruck gaping when Tom out-soloed himself and turned me into the happiest young woman on the planet. My life is complete. I could totally die now. Thank you universe.
He even had his suspenders back.
And to top it off, the "encore" wasn't really an encore: not if the band ends up playing for another hour. Tom came back to lend a bluesy solo to "Hard Times Come Again No More" and then something mysterious happened. The energy just went through the roof. I can't even describe it. The climax was symbolized perfectly at the final end of the last song, when Bruce turned his guitar into a hula-hoop: spinning it around himself until he caught it, firmly and perfectly, with one hand.
It's like the knee-slide. From anyone else it would be cheesy. From Bruce it was perfect.
Now I know what all the fuss has been about all these years. Bruce Springsteen. The last of the vinyl Rock Gods, the rock and roll evangelical who can turn despair into hope, sorrow into strength, and make you believe in dreams.
What a night.
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