rock-and-roll artists of all time, check out this Rolling Stone article, in which a jury of musicians and critics list what they consider to be his top 100 songs. What's amazing is not just how great the songs are--and I have listened to every single one of them--but also how many wonderful Springsteen compositions the list omits.
If anyone has some spare time, I'd love to see a playlist of these in the RS order.
If by some miracle you don't know Springsteen's music, get busy and pick up some albums. You have many, many hours of wonderful listening ahead.
I don't expect you all to agree with me, but I expect I will always feel this way, because the album is a stunning piece of work. Eight tracks, less than 40 minutes, and absolute magic.
Side 1:
"Thunder Road"
"Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out"
"Night"
"Backstreets"
Side 2:
"Born to Run"
"She's the One"
"Meeting Across the River"
"Jungleland"
Every song is strong on its own, and two, "Thunder Road" and "Born to Run" are absolutely brilliant, but together they paint a portrait of youth and dreams and fragile hopes that I've never seen equalled.
Consider just the opening lines of those two songs:
The screen door slams Mary's dress waves Like a vision she dances across the porch As the radio plays Roy Orbison singing for the lonely Hey that's me and I want you only Don't turn me home again I just can't face myself alone again
and
In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream At night we ride through the mansions of glory in suicide machines Sprung from cages out on highway 9, Chrome wheeled, fuel injected, and steppin' out over the line Oh-oh, Baby this town rips the bones from your back It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap We gotta get out while we're young `Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run
Maybe you never felt like those songs, but oh, I did, every day of my youth and so many many days since then. Gray-haired and white-bearded, I still do, almost every day.
The music was just as good, soulful at times, insanely powerful at other times, and always gripping. The bridge in the middle of "Born to Run" and the moment after it when Bruce shouts "1 2 3 4" and then sings
"The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive"
ranks as one of the greatest sequences in any song.
Call me a fool. Call me an old man. Whatever. This truth I know: this album, these songs, these emotions--my heart, my hopes, my dreams, always and forever.
Tonight in Greensboro, less than an hour and a half away, Bruce Springsteen the E Street Band are playing in concert. I have tickets, pretty good though not great seats.
I won't be there, though, due to this blasted stomach bug. I just cannot be far from a bathroom for long.
I am severely bummed. Reports of his shows on this tour have been great; check out, for example, this one on his apparently amazing SXWS performance.
I wanted to be there to remember the Big Man, Clarence Clemons, and to see the new E Street horns section, which includes Jake Clemons, the Big Man's nephew. I wanted to be there because I love the music. I wanted...well, you get it.
I am glad others are using the tickets; Sarah and Ben will get to enjoy the show. I am so very sad right now, though, to miss it.
Which sadness brings me to the direct tie between Springsteen and the Jon and Lobo books. I wrote the first Jon Moore story, "My Sister, My Self," in 1982. (You can find it now in my Jump Gate Twist collection, which brought it back into print after over 25 years of being unavailable.) While writing that story, I wanted to maintain a certain feeling, a very particular mood. To that end, the entire time I was working on that story, hour after hour, I played the same side--side 3, or the first side of the second record--of Springsteen's amazing record, The River. Yes, this was on vinyl. That side captured perfectly for me the sense of loss in the story.
Among the songs on that side were the title tune, "The River." Here's a moving version that includes a little tribute to the Big Man.
The Boss's new album, Wrecking Ball, is due March 6. This song is its first single.
Let it roll.
Many kind folks have asked what I need to get through all of this. My usual answer is one form of truth: "Nothing." I don't. I get through it, whatever "it" is. That's what I do.
At another level, I don't really know what I need. I don't even consider the topic to be relevant; what matters are the tasks in front of me, the people I need to take care of, the things I need to do.
I do know that I'm very fortunate to have a lot of folks who care about me, and their support, the support of all who have written me, does touch me. Thank you, all; forgive me if I'm not good at expressing that gratitude.
Clarence Clemons, the Big Man, a wonderful saxophonist who was best known for playing with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, died yesterday. When I heard the news first from Sarah, who had heard it via music community connections, I couldn't find any mentions online and hoped it wasn't true. When I read that it was indeed true, that he had died of complications from a stroke, sadness gripped me hard.
I didn't know this man. I never met him. I never even saw him play a solo show, though several times I had the chance and was too busy to take it. I have no real right to this sadness. I'm just another fan who will mourn his passing--but mourn it I will.
I first saw him play during the Born in the U.S.A. tour in 1984, on the band's last show before Christmas. As was his habit on that tour, at some point Springsteen would start running toward Clemons from the side opposite the Big Man, tuck into a knee slide, and stop when the Big Man caught him. On that tour, Clemons would always then kiss him, a sideways slap at homophobes. The chemistry and brotherhood between the two of them was amazing, as it always was.
When Clemons broke into one of his famous saxophone solos, I was enchanted. When he hit the one in the middle of "Born to Run," I had one of those peak moments you get in a live concert when you know it can't get any better than that.
In the following years, I had the privilege of seeing Springsteen, Clemons, and the band several more times. A little over two years ago, in April, 2008, I got to attend their show in Greensboro. Clemons was clearly in some difficulty, and he moved very little, spending most of the show perched on a stool. When it came time to play, however, it was as if the power of the music filled him and came rolling out through his instrument.
It was always like that, come to think of it: When the Big Man played, he became an even bigger man, as the power of music burst out of him and elevated and transformed all around him. I'll always be grateful to him for sharing those moments with so many of us.
Goodbye, Clarence Clemons. I never knew you, but I will miss you.
and once I played it, I knew I needed to share it with you.
He is, after all, The Boss.
Speaking of Sarah, if you're not reading her short pieces over at A Year In Prose, you're missing out on some lovely writing. Yeah, I'm her dad, so I'm biased, but I'm also right.
I know this film came out quite a few weeks ago, but I've been meaning to talk about it for a while and just haven't gotten to it. So sue me.
First, the bottom line: I loved every completely silly minute of RED. It never dragged, nor did it ever stray remotely close to realism, and I'm completely fine with that. I didn't want it to be real. I wanted it to be what it was: a velocity exercise, a hey-let's-get-the-gang-together-again homage, a gasp of hope for older folks who still dream of being tough and hot.
All the stars delivered exactly the goods. Bruce Willis returned to his glory days and provided most of the action. Morgan Freeman was wise and smart and captivating. John Malkovich turned in one of his full-on crazy performances, and he does them so very well. Karl Urban, as the young agent chasing them, started out cardboard and then became more.
And, of course, there was Helen Mirren. While showing every bit of her age, she was graceful, hot, deadly, and funny; that woman can act.
If you haven't seen this movie and it's still playing anywhere near you, catch it on the big screen while you can.
To tide you over until you can see it, here's a little ironic musical commentary on aspects of the film: two songs from two great Jersey groups I love.
but it sure is for me. (Let the rehearsal part roll by you, then enjoy the song.)
"As I lift my groceries into my car, I turn back for a moment and catch her smile; it blows this whole fucking place apart."
I grew up staring at people and things so beautiful, at least to my young eyes, and so far from me that I knew I could never have them, that they would be forever beyond my reach. Bruce nails those feelings here.
I have a lot of holiday traditions. If you count all the traditions of my extended family, I have an amazingly large number of such traditions. I don't mind, though; in fact, I quite like them.
One of those traditions is making the time to listen to a few special songs--not your usual Christmas songs, but those that crack me up. Two in particular spring to mind.
The first is funny as long as you have a sick sense of humor. Check it out, and listen carefully; Steve Martin is hilarious.
The second may be funny only to those who have seen Love Actually, but that's okay; if you haven't seen that film, buy it now and watch it immediately. Most of the following video is not in the movie, but some parts are, and the performance by Bill Nighy as Billy Mack is wonderful. Enjoy.
Oh, heck, I know I said two songs, but we have to end with Bruce. We just have no choice. I saw him and the E Street Band do this song in 1984, and it was marvelous. This video is a great rendering. You gotta love Bruce and Clarence singing together.
Jon Moore, the hero of my current novel series, has a tie to Bruce Springsteen that I thought folks might like to know.
When I wrote the first Jon story, "My Sister, My Self," lo these many years ago, I was aiming for a sense of profound loss. The side of the Springsteen album, The River--and I was listening to an album, not a CD--that contained the song, "The River," echoed the feelings of loss I wanted. So, I put that side on repeat on my turntable and started on the story. I wrote the entire story, all passes, in two four-hour evening sessions, and I played the same album side the whole time. It emptied the house, but it faded into an emotional background noise that really worked for me.
I even used a quote from the song at the start of the story. I got paid something like six cents a word for the story, or whatever the going rate was at Asimov's at the time, and I had to pay Springsteen twenty-five bucks for the right to the fifteen words of his that I quoted; it's easy to spot the richer writer, eh?
I've listened to a lot of music while writing the subsequent Jon & Lobo tales, but I still recall and love that song and associate it with my first professional sale--and the first Jon story.
Some events move me enough that I take a long time to process them. I'm still working through all of my thoughts and feelings about TED, for example--though I learned yesterday that I didn't make the cut for the 2009 main conference. (I'm still hoping to attend a satellite, should they have one again.) Last night's concert was another such event.
Several things in the show affected me deeply.
The music, of course, is a big one. I love most of Springsteen's songs, and many of them would make my desert island top 100 list, were I to have one. A lot of his songs tell stories of poor, trapped people trying alternately to make the best of what they have or to get away from it all, and those tunes resonate with my childhood and teen memories. Others--and many of that first group, of course--rage at injustice, and I have related to them since I first heard them.
It's not just the music, however. His joy in performing touches me, as does the show's undeniable energy. I also respect and admire the fact that the same band has been together for so long; I aspire to do as well by my closest friends. In addition, he strikes me as an entirely decent and admirable man, someone who's become rich while never forgetting for a moment that most people aren't.
He also makes me want to be a better writer. If my work brought anyone as much joy as his provides to me, I'd be honored and thrilled.
As I said in the title, I'm still processing it all. I wish you could have been there to enjoy it with me.
Tonight, six of us drove in pouring rain to Greensboro to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. The show was amazing, exciting, emotional, uplifting, exhausting, and entirely wonderful. This evening marked the fourth time I'd seen Springsteen perform, and each concert occupies a cherished place in my memory.
I'll write more about it tomorrow or sometime soon, but for now I still need to process it all.
is the name of the new Springsteen album, and though I'm only three cuts into it I can already tell you that it's a must-have CD. With the E Street Band in fine form, Springsteen making the most of what's left of his voice, great lyrics, and an amazing wall of sound paced by Max Weinberg's drumming and punctuated at perfect intervals by Clarence Clemons' soaring sax, it's wonderful. Check it out.
Fact one: The Beatles are the greatest rock band of all time. If you don't know this already, then learn it now. For range, album quality, effect on culture, suite of hits that charted number one, you name it; the Beatles rule.
Fact two: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are in the top five greatest rock bands of all time. Your list of candidates for the remaining positions in the two, three, four, and five slots is up to you, but that this band belongs is not open to discussion.
And, the new album appears tomorrow (today as you read this)! I'm psyched.
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