The news of Danny Federici’s death has sent my mind reeling back over the dozens of E Street Band shows that I’ve seen over the years. But the one I kept going back to this morning is the very first one that I ever saw, at the legendary Capitol Theater in Passaic, NJ, on October 14, 1974. I was not there to see Bruce Springsteen.

Looking back on it now, it was an impressive triple bill, and I was there to see the opening act. I made the thirty-minute drive with my best friend Larry. Ten years earlier, we had created our first band together in the wake of the Beatles’ arrival in the U.S. It was all about music for us: Larry loved the Kinks, and I was in my Neil Young phase. We had both been very impressed with a recent debut album by one Dan Fogelberg, and we heard that he was opening the show, so off we went. The headliner was the always dependable John Sebastian, and in the middle, Bruce Springsteen. We had heard about Bruce. There was definitely a buzz around N.J. about him, but I can honestly say that at that point I had never heard a note of his music. Also with us that night was my future ex-wife, Sarah. We were only a few months away from a lovely wedding — and a quick divorce.

To tell you the truth, I don’t remember much about Fogelberg’s set. As I recall, it was vaguely disappointing. It proved difficult to reproduce the lush textures of his album in a live setting. Then there was a surprise: John Sebastian, the headliner, had decided to go on in the middle slot. It was unprecedented, and at that point hard to understand. This decision later became something of a legend in Bruce Springsteen lore. One version has it that Sebastian had witnessed the Springsteen soundcheck and wisely decided that, armed with only his acoustic guitar and harmonica, he was not going to try to follow the E Street Band that night. Again, I don’t remember much about Sebastian’s set, but he was always dependably entertaining, and I’m sure he was that night as well.

To tell you the truth, we were ready to leave. The Springsteen buzz was a bit irritating at that point. Almost cult-like already. We weren’t buying into it. Who did this guy think he was? Then Larry reminded me that Max had just joined the band, and maybe we should at least check it out. We had known Max since the seventh grade, and gone all through junior high school and high school with him. He was always a great drummer, and his bands were always the best local bands. (Ours were always second best.) So it wasn’t surprising to us that Max had made it to the next level, but at the time it was just that — the next level. A couple of months earlier, Ernest “Boom” Carter had left the E Street Band, along with keyboard player David Sancious. After responding to a blind ad in the Village Voice, Max had replaced Ernest, and Roy Bittan came onboard in David’s place. What the hell. We figured we’d stick around to see what all the fuss was about. Sarah was trying hard to be patient.

After a brief intermission, the lights dimmed. A lone spotlight picked out a ragged figure, center stage. (more…)

Indianapolis, Indiana-Conseco Fieldhouse
March 20, 2008

When I see a concert, I hope that the artist resonates in a way that moves you beyond the two or three hour performance. There are nights where you want to be entertained and other nights where you NEED to be taken to a higher plane. As the E Street Band descended on stage at the Conseco Fieldhouse in Indianapolis, I knew on this particular night I needed to touch that higher plane and reach an emotional apex that may be tough for the band to reach. Despite my reservations, I found myself absorbed towards the end of the main set where Steve Van Zandt took over vocals for “Long Walk Home,” the defining moment on Magic – and even though the performances of this number last year were nothing to sneer at, the song has evolved into an epic along the lines of the performances of “Backstreets” from 1978. The performance revealed untold affecting emotions through the sheer power of guitar rock, without relying on sentimentality. Even the uninitiated around me found this to be a seismic watershed moment of the E Street Band at their finest, reminding us that it ain’t so sin to be glad you’re alive; let me tell you, this was just one of many goosebump moments of the night.

Opening the show with a spot-on penetrating performance was the triple guitar attack of “Night.” For the next 150 minutes, the band proved to be fixating and focused, even if they never quite reached the emotional and pulverizing highs of the show in Milwaukee three nights earlier. Springsteen’s connection to the crowd and recognition of signs from the pit made the intimacy of the show much more palpable even from back in the arena. This is sadly something that will be lost when he moves to stadiums in the summer. Right before the fourth song, Bruce asked for a sign to be sent to him, which showed the band and revealed to the crowd; “Please play ‘Prove It.’” I won’t mince words; I personally felt that anyone who had taken the time to make a sign like that should been banned from the pit for life. However, as I began to watch the always fervent and impassioned performance, it struck me that since I had been catching Springsteen shows in Indianapolis, I never recalled seeing “Prove It All Night” live. When I got home, I did a little research and found out that the last time “Prove It All Night” had been performed in Indianapolis was January 8, 1985. So if it was a longtime resident of Indy who requested that song, I forgive them.

The next audible (replacing “Growing Up” on the handwritten set list) was “Rendezvous” — a welcome switch, as the band immediately found its groove on this underappreciated and underperformed gem. The thunder clapping hysterics of “Reason To Believe” and “She’s The One” left the Hoosier crowd’s mouths agape once again. The whole evening flew into overdrive. (more…)