Montreal was never on my list of Springsteen shows for this tour. Too far away, too much money, too many people driving up from New England to make the GA line bearable. I was off the train in Vancouver, and was more or less okay with that. That didn’t stop me from urging friends in Ottawa and Montreal to go -- some kind of vicarious participation in the process.
Then, someone on rec.music.artists.springsteen offered up spares to Montreal for a Philly trade, or the best story. So I tell this person about my friend S. in Montreal, who loves loves loves music, who I have known from the Pearl Jam world since 1994, who has endured me going on and on and on about Bruce for years. That I almost just caved and bought her a ticket so she could see him. This person decides that my letter wins the contest, and now S. and a friend are going to see Bruce, gratis.
"Too bad you can’t come, Car," she says in email. "It would be so easy to get you a ticket." And I know this, of course, there are tickets for sale all over the net. But that’s out of the question. There’s just no way.
Or is there?
Before I quite know what I am doing, I find airfare for $600, then $300, then briefly consider Priceline, and then remember I still have some miles somewhere and there, miraculously, my Northwest miles get me a redeye flight to the east coast Friday night, connect at Newark to Montreal, arrive at 9:15 Saturday morning. Only catch is I have to turn around and come back at 6:30am Sunday morning. Ouch. But how can I do this? Well, how can I not? Last arena show.
Friends say: are you going to be happy with this decision if he plays a Vancouver setlist? I tell one of them that all I really want is the chance to shake my ass to "Ramrod" one last time. Which is true. Sacto was mindblowing, Vancouver was not all that for me, a combination of performance and emotional stuff. I need one more shot to clear my palate. One last dance.
So there I am, Saturday night, having personally upgraded ourselves to the front row behind the stage in the Centre Bell. Right behind Roy. Those were not our seats, but with a little stealth observation they became ours and were unchallenged for the entire night. The behind-the-stage ticket reads "DERRIERE SCENE". I swear to god. It really does. Yes, I understand what it means in French, but - come on. Laugh with me here. It's too funny, isn't it?
I’ve never sat behind the stage for Bruce always wanted to, but have usually been very lucky with my seats. I know I wouldn’t have been as curious to come out for this show if these seats hadn’t been where they were. S. thought I was a little nuts: "Is the stage in the round? No? So why is this good?" I told her that she’d see. It is an experience I absolutely would repeat again - especially if you’ve been out front enough, it kind of fills in the blanks for you. You can catch all the little things that you never get to see when you are close up.
Other friends voiced their concerns that I wouldn’t be happy if I had to sit down the entire night, and they were right about that. It did make me somewhat anxious, but I just figured that worst case scenario, I’d move around until I found people who did want to stand up. That turned out to be a non-issue. The crowd was on their feet from almost the first moment. Even if Bruce hadn’t delivered a hot setlist, it would have been a great show because the crowd was with him, everywhere in the venue. I wish they had almost been a little more restrained; there was no quiet tonight even after the request, and I think we all could have done without the idiots yelling "BROOOCEEE" during "Incident".
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
8:30 and there they are, walking out in darkness. In Vancouver I was all "this is my last arena show" but here I think I was still kind of stunned that I’d made it, that it was Saturday night and I was in Montreal watching the E Street Band walk out onto the stage. As soon as they went into "Promised Land" I knew that I was going to be very glad that I was sitting there, and not watching the setlist show up on the newsgroup. Even going into "The Rising" and then "Lonesome Day," the crowd was with him, and not just the 800 people on the floor who were from New England and the Tri-State area, and not because this was the last arena show for most of the folks in the venue, this was their only show, and it was Saturday night, and they were gonna have a good time.
I could see the audible being called, Bruce with a big grin on his face, looking awfully pleased, and to tell you the truth, from the hand signals, I thought it was
going to be “Ties That Bind”. You can imagine my reaction when they kicked into “My Love Will Not Let You Down,” especially being able to watch Max play the drum break at the end of the song from my vantage point, me half-pogoing with a dumb grin on my face. S. is getting off on watching the fans in the pit. On the way home, she mentioned how she was just loving watching all the fans down front sending out all their love to Bruce and the band, and how it just went across the stage and into the audience. (Okay, she’s a Deadhead, but I love her anyway.) I know that sounds kind of hippie but can you think about someone watching the show from that viewpoint for the first time, someone who’s got a wide taste in music, been to hundreds of shows? What the audience must look like to someone like that?
I sat down for “Empty Sky” and “You’re Missing,” using the latter to just focus on watching Bruce conduct the band, eyes closed, head back, just feeling it, losing himself in it. Spotlight on him at one point making this beautifully haunting silhouette.
I was back on my feet from the first note of “Sunny Day”. “Two Hearts” is hardly my favorite number but I like the segue into “No Surrender” a lot. S. loved "World’s Apart" and then was kind of blown away when the house lights came up for "Badlands". And it’s cheesy, sure, and I’ve seen it a million times, but to be behind the stage and watch an entire floor with their arms in the air trying to look at it through the eyes of a first-timer, it was really awe-inspiring. It was during “Badlands” that I started to think about the cumulative effects from singing certain songs over and over again for years and years and years, and how that has got to have some kind of effect on your psyche or your subconscious. Singing about believing in the love and the faith and the hope - I mean, that’s a prayer right there. I guess I was thinking about all of this while talking to my friends, trying to explain my relationship with Bruce and the music to them, trying to give them a sense of what it’s like so that they had some context.
I’d been listening to a 1977 show on the way to Montreal, and so I was trying work some serious "Night"/"Candy’s Room" (or any combination of Night/Darkness or Night/She’s The One) mojo. I try not to read any other reviews online before I write mine, but I did sneak a look at a report of the
soundcheck (which included four songs we hadn’t heard yet this tour), and then someone else’s report of what was on the setlist but not played. Okay, I swear. There were no signs tonight. So why did we get “Out In The Street”? I guess I should have known it was coming because Bruce was digging the behind-the-stage crowd and that’s his chance to give them a shot (although I don’t know why “Sunny Day,” which also has the band walking behind the stage, can’t just take that place). I think that the crowd back there would have been just as happy with a not-facing-the-crowd “Night”/”She’s The One” instead of “Out In The Street”. To quote another friend at the show, “This show did not need another sing-a-long about community.”
My favorite comment about “Mary’s Place” was S. telling me after the show that she was sure it was at least 20 years old. She couldn’t believe it was a new song. Then, Bruce moves to the piano – my first thought was, “Are we at the end of the show already?” He sits down, gets settled, leans into the mic and utters those magic words: "This is for the old-timers out there." The idiots on the other side of my friends start yelling ROCK AND ROLL and would have probably yelled for Rosie had S. not told him to shut up. Keep in mind, we are RIGHT behind Roy, so Bruce is sitting right there, and then no, it can’t be. Incident? I am getting to hear INCIDENT after all these years, all these missed chances? I let myself have a moment of freaking out, and then I sit back, arms on the railing, staring ahead at Bruce, watching him play and sing this song. It wasn’t exactly Philly, and the chorus wasn’t echoing off the crowd at the end, but it was still heart-stopping. Life affirming. Never in a million years. No way. Roy walking up at the end, paternally putting his arm around Bruce, the Professor nodding his approval, and then switching over to the motif at the end that on the album goes into Rosie... I just know it was one of those Bruce moments that I am going to remember forever.
“Thunder Road” and “Into the Fire” TR was really lacking, and I cannot believe I am saying this, but even S. commented that she didn’t think it was all that powerful (although she did acknowledge that she thought it was the first time she’d ever heard the song. Isn’t that something? She’s never heard it but she knew what it was instantly.) “Into The Fire” closes the main set, and by this point in the tour, I am finally agreeing with those who feel that this is an absolutely lackluster set closer.
The band comes back out for the encore, and I lean over to my friend and say, knowingly, "Oh, you’ll know this next one" and then motherfucker! HUNGRY HEART? And of course they do know it, and are all happy and stuff, and I tell them, well, this wasn’t what I thought it was going to be.
Can I just talk about “Hungry Heart” for about the next hour? This song, to me, is Bruce’s all time perfect, ultimate pop song. Not “Sherry Darling,” not “Dancing in the Dark,” not anything else you could name, but “Hungry Heart”. I love this goddamn song obsessively. When I got the album I put this song back to back on a 30 minute tape and would listen to it every chance I get. It’s a slice of sunshine, it’s crystallized happiness, it’s pure pop for now people defined. There is no wasted space, there is no stray note, there is no bad line, there is nothing I’d change about the production. And if that wasn’t enough, it has Flo and Eddie on backing vocals! It’s saccharine but it’s got enough of an old-time Motown, Spector-ish feel that it’s the cool side of cheesy instead of the moronic side. It’s timeless, but it also has a very specific feel that can bring me back to the day I heard this song on WNEW-FM, the day I bought the album and took it home, the first time I heard it live. Now, after singing the praises of this song, let me also say that I am not the biggest fan of it live. Sometimes it could drag, sometimes the crowd would not be down with it and so it would all fall apart. And yeah it was a little rough, but having “Hungry Heart” in the set tonight was like the feeling of finding the perfect record at a rummage sale for a quarter. I know that getting Incident off my list was a big one for me, a huge one, but hearing “Hungry Heart” again is in its own way almost as significant as getting to hear “Incident”. Call me nuts. Feel free.
So now it’s ass shakin’ time with “Ramrod,” and during the piano break, Bruce was actually walking along the crowd in the front row of the first level, shaking hands, and then he’s standing next to the stage with Clarence’s hat, dancing around, looking very 1980, and then he sneaks up behind Roy and drops the hat on his head. “Born To Run,” predictably blows the roof off the place (something I never ever get tired of experiencing), and then, just when I’m still trying to recover from “Ramrod” holy shit! No fucking way? The Detroit Motherfucking Medley (as I referred to it to another friend after the show). I have not heard this since 1985. I am not kidding. I don’t even know where to start, but I do know that I don’t have enough room to dance in this little space against the railing. Somehow, I make do, but I am envious of the couples who were doing the Lindy in the back of the pit. I haven’t heard it in forever, but then again, it doesn’t feel like an old one, ya know, everyone knows the call and response and everyone is having a blast.
Standard end with “My City of Ruins” and “Land of Hope And Dreams”. Then, I was really hoping for “Dancing In the Dark” because my friends really did want it (and I can’t blame them), but it absolutely took them more than a few seconds to realize what it was. The best discovery of the Rising tour was prying the rockin version of this song out of the piles of synth cheese.
After the intensity and energy of this show, I am surprised there is nothing after “Dancing In The Dark”. Really, I am. But band members are pulling in-ear monitors out as they walk down the stairs, and then through the tunnel, and then waving at us, Bruce stopping for an extended period of time, big smile on his face, waving and making eye contact with all of us.
Yeah. You could say it was worth the trip.
If you’re someone who evaluates shows on technical excellence, or musical proficiency, well, then, Sacto was not the show for you. But for those of us who rate a show based on overall feel, that intangible something, that combination of factors that fall into place and create pure magic, Sacto was just that.
Leaving out a long explanation about the general admission line and related chaos, I’ll just note that through a combination of luck and circumstance, I ended up with my elbows on the stage, center. Two people to the right of Bruce’s mic. My life went to hell earlier Tuesday morning, and I was viewing this as divine intervention. (Well, that and a stupid chick who took a Vicodin an hour before the show, and as a result just slid too far over to the left, leaving me a nice space next to a friend to slide into.)
At 8:30, the lights go down, and don’t come back up on the stage. We can see the band walking on in darkness. Spotlight on Bruce, and it’s acoustic BITUSA. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: the man loves playing this song. Glass slide on his finger, face furrowed in concentration. Of course, the question on everyone’s mind is what’s in the #2 slot? Will it be "War"? Will it be "Who’ll Stop the Rain"? I didn’t think that Bruce not playing "War" was backing down, "Who’ll Stop the Rain" is just as powerful and echoes the identical theme that "War" does, it’s just less in your face and less obvious. I like watching Bruce sing "War", so I wouldn’t have minded too much, but then when "Who’ll Stop The Rain" started I realized I was happier with this choice.
The band rolls into "No Surrender" and it’s finally time to rock out. Lately, I’d been viewing it as my personal theme song for a variety of reasons, so hearing it was like running into a long lost friend, and of course, watching Bruce sing it three feet away from me made it all that more powerful.
The audience was great. The energy just built and built and built. The pit was lively and full of energy (despite the hours and clusterfucks), and Arco Arena is interesting in that the skyboxes are BEHIND the stage. Equally interesting (but not surprising) was that the stage had been set up with the strips of chainlink fence hanging vertically across the skyboxes it’s chainlink, so it’s not obscuring their view, but it was somewhat a defiant move. As I noted before the show, Bruce wasn’t going to be playing to the crowd behind the stage tonight. At one
point in the show, he makes a move to head that way, and then realizes what’s up there; he then turned to the audience sidestage (and the sidestage seats are
very very close due to the unique configuration of Arco I’ve sat there before, so I know that it’s a great view) he took one look and said, "Good system!" Those folks were on their feet all night. When it came time for him to give the "Come on up for the ASS rising" exhortation, he was really only speaking to folks up in the upper level. I really believe that the crowd was the ingredient that made this show so special.
Bruce’s voice was very rough. He wasn’t hitting some notes and after a while just gave up trying to. He also clearly hurt himself at one point during the show; probably after one of the knee slides (which started right in front of me, and caused me to stop breathing for a few seconds), I saw him striking what I thought was a triangle pose in yoga; my friend leans over and goes, "That’s a groin stretch." (I refrained from making any further comments about that statement.) He was clearly hurting during the rest of the show, but that didn’t stop him from taking another knee slide to the other side, or from jumping up on the piano. My impression was that the fact that it was so clearly physically challenging for him almost made him work that much harder. It was like he refused to let himself be defeated or slowed down by it.
Bruce sang the "blow away" verse in "Promised Land" on the edge of the stage right in front of us, and I have never felt such passion or conviction before. Sure, yeah, it was in front of me, and that was probably when my first vocal chord blew, but several times during the evening, I would comment that we hadn’t seen some of these things since ’78. You wouldn’t think that "Promised Land" was an old song from the way he delivered it in Sacto.
"Badlands" featured a fierce guitar solo that wouldn’t have been out of place on a Clash album there was a fury and a determined precision that blew me away. (And in my neighborhood, comparing someone to the Clash is a VERY VERY good thing, just so that’s clear.)
I have not seen "She’s The One" since 1988. That’s right. 15 years. So when Clarence picked up the maracas and I realized what was happening, it didn’t feel real. It just didn’t. Time stood still. And I was about to go hysterical but then said to myself, "Hey, Caryn, how about you wait until it’s done so you remember it?" That was when I blew out the second vocal chord and just stopped caring how much my throat hurt. It was perfect. It was everything I’d ever wanted. Everything I remembered. As dark and powerful and full of longing as the first time I heard the song.
Someone commented recently that they truly love "Mary’s Place" as much as anything that Bruce has ever done, and I realized in Sacto that I share this sentiment. I love it. I’d miss it if it went away. Same with "Sunny Day". These are songs we could be singing in 20 years (provided there’s an E Street Band
in 20 years). They are truly timeless. The Patti intro tonight was a little different: the same "Rescue Me" vamp, with a funny, goofy little dance, and then he says, "She’s playin it cool now… but this really works for me at home." There was also one point when he was singing "Help me" and Patti nouthed "Yes, you need help."
I love, love, love Nils’ classic, flamenco-tinged intro to "Countin On A Miracle". Just transforms the song. That finishes, and I see Bruce calling what we were sure was definitely an audible (but later found out was indeed on the setlist). All of a sudden there it is, the intro to "Jungleland". The place is going absolutely apeshit and sings along with Bruce with one loud voice, it felt like every single person was singing every single goddamn word. Until, of course, "Beneath the city/two hearts beat"… when the entire arena drops into a hush. It’s that ritual that we all know, Bruce sings this one, and I swear the place was totally silent, watching and listening to him intone this verse.
And then he finishes, and starts the next one, and we’re all shouting along:
"Outside the street’s on fire in a real death waltz
Between flesh and what's fantasy
And the poets down here don't write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be"
Then we drop back into silence again, and let Bruce sing:
"And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded, not even dead…"
And then we’re all singing again with him, slowly:
"Tonight… in… Jungleland…."
I close my eyes, tilt my head up, and raise my arms as I let that last moan wash over me, feeling the piano notes drifting through my fingers as the song ends. And then I open them again and realize that I am indeed still standing on the ground. Because I’m sure I was floating at least a few inches during that song. It was sheer and utter magic, and I saw someone earlier say that they thought it blew away any version during the Reunion tour. I was lucky enough to hear it twice (CAA and Tacoma), and I’d have to agree wholeheartedly.
There were two guys behind me during the show, two friends whose interaction was very enjoyable to witness, they were so clearly into every single second. When the band came out for the encore, and Bruce pulls the harmonica out of his pocket and starts "Thunder Road", one of them smiled affectionately and
said, "He’s just never going to let this one go, is he?" That comment, true as it was, made me throw myself into the song that much more. It didn’t feel old or tired or rote tonight (and I honestly can’t say that I’ve ever felt that way about it, although I know others have, and I totally acknowledge that I see where they’re coming from.)
So Bruce is clearly hurting, and I say to my friend, “I don’t think we’ll get ‘Ramrod’ tonight," but then there he is, shoving the fretboard up against the mic stand, and asking us, "Are you ready to roadhouse????" Fuck yeah. We’re talking about the loosest, silliest, sloppiest, rockinest version of "Ramrod" I have ever seen or heard, and it just went on for fucking EVER, Bruce dropping down the micstand and mimicking gunning a car between the lines of the first verse. (And. Yes. He pointed at me and sang the "pretty face" line. I squealed like a 13 year old.) I had a friend sitting sidestage, and when the band left the stage and Roy went into that New Orleans-style vamp on the bridge, the friend said that they could see Bruce and everyone underneath the stage, and then all of a sudden, Bruce stuck his face out the curtain, and someone put a flashlight on it. Then he disappeared, and did it again. Then, Clarence did the same thing. All of this going on, and no one can see it, of course, except the people in 119. He also mentioned how when they came out and were waiting sidestage for Roy to finish, that Bruce was just dancing around there, in total darkness, for no one’s benefit but those folks sidestage (and, well, maybe himself). Like I said, it seemed to go on FOREVER.
The rest of the encore is about what you expect, just several volumes higher intensity than any normal show. But they go into LOHAD, and I said to my friend: "He’s not going to pogo."
"He might."
But the first guitar break hits, and he’s not, and goddamnit, I thought, this time the punk rocker’s going to start it, so I start to pogo and my pal immediately follows suit and there we are, pogoing like crazy people, and Bruce stands there looking at us with this look of "You people are fucking nuts", shaking his head and laughing. But second guitar break and now he starts to pogo, so people in the pit start along with him as well. I do not know where I found the energy at that point, but I felt anything but tired or weary.
Then Bruce and Clarence and Stevie stand there at the front of the stage in this mock triumvirate, you know the shtick by now, solemnly deciding our fate, and the crowd is just cheering its collective lungs out. So of course they run back into place and it’s that wonderful rockin “Dancing In The Dark,” Bruce pogoing like crazy this time without any encouragement whatsoever. He finishes, you can see he’s just so wiped out, but also so clearly didn’t want to leave (the quote before “My City Of Ruins” was "you’ve been a fabulous audience") and from somewhere he decides to pull out "Darlington County". He’s working the stage, singing along, and someone behind me throws a cowboy hat up into the crowd, and it ends up behind me, and I pick it up and Bruce reaches for it and puts it on, just hamming it up for all that he was worth, and absolutely loving every second. He starts walking down Clarence’s side of the stage and either tripped or slipped, but he fell onto the step there and just could not get up (and didn’t want to), singing to the kids who were in the crowd there.
I think he would have kept going even after that if there was any possible way. I really do.
I’ve heard Bruce sing better, I’ve probably heard him play with greater technical profiency, but hell, even Stevie knocked it out of the park tonight on "World’s Apart" (although Bruce of course tore him to shreds with the next solo, but then again, when hasn’t he done that). But to me, it’s always that something other that makes a show spectacular. As I gushed to a friend on the way out, "It was ALMOST Providence!" If the setlist had been a bit more varied, it would have been a very close tie.
It was just mindblowing. I was high for the next 48 hours just on this show. And I wasn’t going to go, not at all, but two weeks beforehand said "fuck it, I’m going". I’m so glad I did.