jukeboxgraduate.com

this land is your land

From the rally in Madison, WI, today:

"My point of view about it has been pretty simple. I think that if you mislead the country, and you take the nation to war, and put our sons and our daughters on the line, and the basis you took the country to war on has been proven false… You lose your job. It’s not rocket science; when you do that, you lose your job."
--Bruce Springsteen on the VFC tour, October 2004

thank god, iggy is still with us

Guardian Unlimited | Arts features | 'I'm the old git with the chick, the Roller and the rock band'

Great article, although I'm still not buying the idea that Iggy living in Florida is logical. Plus, I miss being able to see him around the East Village on a daily basis... just seems wrong.

john peel

CBS News | BBC DJ John Peel Dead At 65 | October 26, 2004 13:45:10

also, the NME: John Peel: 1939-2004
and: BBC Tribute page

One of the few people involved and influential in the business who actually loved music, and didn't pretend he was too cool to be passionate and engaged, even at age 65.

no surrender

John Kerry for President - Bruce Springsteen to Hit the Campaign Trail for John Kerry in Campaign's Closing Days

Vote. Please.

eddie spaghetti on the election

Eddie's been sending these out all summer to the Supersuckers mailing list. It's pretty self-explanatory that a lot of people haven't been real happy about the situation:

"suck3rs
That's right, it's down to the nitty gritty. I know that many of you
think that my emails should consist strictly of "liquor, women, drugs
and killing, rock-n-roll, outlaw country and the occasional joke or two
and to you, I apologize. Feel free to bury your head in the sand once
more and delete this missive now because I am here to use my (very
nominal) influence to tell our fans to please get out and vote for a
change this Tuesday.

"To my republican friends (and I hope you are still my friends if you've
made it this far into my email) I have this rock-n-roll analogy for
you:

"Eddie "One more week until I can stop being obsessed with this
election" Spaghetti."

Vote. Please.

greg shaw dies

ContraCostaTimes.com | 10/24/2004 | Garage rock pioneer and writer Shaw dies at 55

I'm a little late with this one (well, late in posting at least). But, when I was a teenager, Greg Shaw and BOMP! were one of the few things I found cool about California. It's time to go dig those old issues out of storage....

GP tribute to be released

Yahoo! News - Parsons, Chicago Concerts Get Hi-Def Broadcast

Ignore the part about Chicago. I *still* have the Parsons tribute shows on my iPod.

Al Green at the Apollo Theater, 10-21-04

From the ages of 5-10, I was living with my family in a tiny town in Michigan. It was the beginning of my love affair with music, spending nights curled up under the covers at night with my little black GE transistor AM radio, bringing in signals from Chicago and, if I was lucky, Detroit. It was then that I fell in love with soul and R’n’B, when I learned about Motown, when I chose the Jackson Five over the Osmond Brothers in a playground showdown over who was better.

And it was all about how it sounded and how it made me feel. I had no way of knowing what was cool or important. But much of what I heard then formed the foundation of my rock and roll heart today, and is probably why a band with any soul in them whatsoever will be nearer and dearer to me than one that doesn’t.

When I heard Al Green was on tour and coming to NYC, I fell out of my chair when I saw my two venue choices: the Beacon Theater or the APOLLO THEATER. That wasn’t even a choice, was it? And so, with a heart-pounding excitement generally reserved for once-in-a-lifetime events (which, let’s be honest, this absolutely was), I took the A train to 125th Street Thursday night.

The theater is (thank goodness) undergoing an extensive renovation project. However, I was more than a little bummed to get off the subway and not be guided down 125th Street by a gleaming APOLLO marquee, not to mention my wistfulness at not getting that marquee photograph reading “AL GREEN”.

But still – it is the Apollo. I am not so much out of my element as in awe of it. I enter the lobby, and stop to soak up the vibe. I walk over to the orchestra entrance and politely ask if I can just walk in and see the house, since I’m sitting upstairs. And you know, I had goosebumps. I know I have an obsessive, almost trainspotter-like fascination with legendary venues, but in this case, my emotion was well deserved.

I climb the stairs to the upper balcony, passing old tinted black and white photos of the Supremes and Stevie Wonder. I am dripping black velvet and high heels, hair in an up-do, and of course (as I knew), am still outdressed by much of the audience. (I am, however, well-dressed enough to allow me to sniff disdainfully at the emo couple sitting at the end of the row. It’s the Apollo and it’s Al Green, you can wear something besides jeans and that thrift store t-shirt.) The usher shows me to my seat, front row of the center balcony, and I settle in to soak up the scene.

It’s a classic 1930’s theater, slightly faded, but glowing with history. There is a glittery red curtain obscuring the stage. I cannot remember the last show I went to that had a curtain. I know it’s not very punk rock but there is something regal and mysterious about a curtain, the drama of the effect of the unveiling, how you aren’t sitting there staring at the equipment and a bare stage for the half and hour before the show starts.

Mavis Staples opened – starting exactly at 8:00 p.m., promptly, another segment of tradition I also enjoyed – and performed a set that relied on most of her best known material, mostly secular, but some spiritual material as well. And then, the quickest set change ever, the chandelier dims, and a booming voice introduces The Reverend Al Green. He walks on, dressed completely in white, including his bow tie and his shoes, and except for some – can you refer to rhinestones as “bling”? – anyway, a red rhinestone cross on a red rhinestone chain (and we’re talking the rhinestones that are as big as blueberries) and two Stars of David, in descending size, with slightly smaller rhinestones.

That voice! It is so different hearing it live than on record, and I don’t care what anyone is going to tell me, he’s still got it, and I'm not quite sure there was ever any danger of him losing it. He had 15 people onstage with him, including a three-piece horn section and two dancers (who came out only for every other song, and every time, had a different set of matching outfits on; aside from the Rev. Al, they were the only people on that stage not wearing black).

After the first number, I can see the Rev’s (I can’t call him Al, and he’s not Mr. Green) handler lean over the grand piano (which was covered with dozens of long-stemmed red roses that were handed out to the audience throughout the night; I would be severely regretting my decision to save money and sit upstairs by the end of the show) and whisper something to his boss. The Rev then turns around, and zips up his fly, which caused the theater to erupt into rather dignified cries of excitement from the female audience members. (This was the moment when I bonded with the single women sitting near me and we had a great time together for the rest of the night.) He played off it, laughed with us, and went back to the show.

The band. Of course, he’s got musicians who can actually play, he can say “take it down” and they take it down instantly. “Take it down again” and with absolute control, the volume is lowered. “Gimme some organ” and there it is, a riff so beautiful it could break your heart.

It being the Reverend Al Green, of course, he testified. But honestly, I expected it, I enjoyed it, and I was surprised there wasn’t more of it. It is still one of my big dreams to go to Memphis and see the Rev at his church one Sunday morning. He told a story about how they weren’t singing about anything bad, but that when he first started, “they” told him he was going to have to stop singing “those songs.” And that he had to go and pray about that one for a long, long time. But that God told him, “Al, I gave you the songs! I gave 'em to you!”

The Rev sang everything you would have wanted to hear and then some (although at one point, when people were yelling out their requests, he said, “If I sang everything everyone wanted me to, we’d be here for two days!”) He danced. He flirted (okay, he flirted constantly). He spoke repeatedly of his love for the Apollo, how he started here, how special it was. And of course, there was soul and gospel and blues, he sang notes that sustained so long and so beautifully it brought tears to my eyes.

It was absolutely, completely incredible, every moment of it. I sat perched up there in the balcony, at times with my head resting on my arms, folded on top of the railing, gazing down at the stage with joy and awe. When I was at the Fox Theater in St. Louis (another legendary venue) earlier this month, my friend J., who grew up in Missouri, commented that sitting down in the orchestra made her feel grown-up, because when she first started coming to shows at the Fox as a teenager, she was always sitting upstairs. Maybe that’s why, sitting up in the balcony tonight, I felt like I was 16 and had snuck out of the house to go to the Apollo (something I would have surely done if I’d been born 10 years earlier). I walked out of the show with the same wonderment that I had when I was younger and first heard these songs, hiding under the blankets, and using my radio as a magic carpet to transport my imagination.

"you wanna go for a ride?"

Twilight Singers
Irving Plaza, NYC, 10-16-04

The picture says it all, doesn't it?

They walked out and utterly slammed into "Teenage Wristband" and I felt like I was going to need to hang on for dear life. This was going to be a show - and it was indeed.

Doors opened for this show at midnight, to accomodate the CMJ insanity that invaded the city. Frankly, Dulli should *always* start his shows at this time - although, as he put it later, if it had been earlier in the day, he would have talked our ears off for four hours.

(One of my favorite Dulli quotes is from a Whigs show in Seattle about five years ago - someone yelled at him to shut up and play, and his response was: "I guess you never been to an Afghan Whigs show before!")

It was, quite honestly, almost perfect - I go to these things to hear Dulli talk, too, so I would've liked more stage banter. There was a new song out of nowhere (I wish to hell he'd just release this stuff via his web site or iTunes, his audience is clearing adoring enough that they would buy it and it would be good for everyone), a great mix of TS material, and just enough Whigs - well, you know what? Honestly I would have left more than happy if there hadn't been any. The show was so ebullient that even "Faded" at the end, last song of the second encore, seemed somewhat anticlimactic, compared to the strength and energy of what had preceded it.

The few classic Dulli moments: seguing into "Photograph" during "Papillion," Greg sharing that it was his favorite song in high school; the Dean Martin moment at the end of the set, where he came to the stage, cigarette and drink in hand, and led the crowd in the Zombies' "Time Of The Season".

Steve Myers has returned, singing backup and bringing some permanent funk to the stage; and instead of a New Orleans keyboard player, Greg's now got himself an Italian piano player from Milano. The rest of the band - fantastic as always. Don't know if it was the NY factor or if they've just gotten to be this good, but they were just superb.

And Dulli himself - he was charming, entrancing, looked healthy, and was absolutely present and totally overwhelming. He's the best he's ever been, in my humble opinion.

Talk about a dream

Ed Vedder with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
Continental Airlines Arena, Secaucus, NJ, 10-13-04

Admittedly, I’ve been lobbying for a Vedder-Springsteen pairing about as long as Ed’s been waiting for the Cubs to get to the World Series. I have been a Springsteen fan since, um, birth, and once upon a time, crisscrossed the country during Pearl Jam tours. While EdVed is best known as the biggest Who fan in the galaxy (and he is), as an admittedly diehard fan of both bands, I always saw the Bruce influences – some obvious (he’s got one onstage guitar pose that to me is very Springsteenian), others less so (turns of phrase, melody lines). I missed the Chicago stop on the Rising tour, when Ed made his debut on the E Street Band stage (performing the obligatory “My Hometown”), and it hurt like hell.

So the thought of a potential EV-BS collaboration almost got me down to the VFC finale in DC, but ticket price prevailed (as well as sanity, life, work). Also, after seeing the tight structure of Bruce’s VFC set, the astounding number of participants involved, and the fact that it was being broadcast, I guessed that the chance for ye olde fashioned jam session where Ed would just amble on with Bruce and call out an audible for, say, “Zero and Blind Terry” was slim and none.

(Okay, admittedly, the chance for anyone to ever do that to Bruce is even smaller than slim and none, but the image is just way funny.)

I wasn’t even going to Jersey, for a long list of reasons that right now seem pretty stupid. But then I got a phone call Monday night at 2 a.m. from a friend who was at the DC finale. As soon as he said the words, “So, I was talking to Mike McCready earlier tonight...” I knew what he was going to tell me, and interrupted him with: “Do you still have that extra ticket?” There had been rumors since Detroit.

So there we were on 10/13, elbows on the stage right in front of Clarence. Our position meant that we had seen Ed walk in and hang out, so we had a pretty good idea what was going to happen when the roadies brought out a second mic stand after “Lonesome Day”. Bruce announces, “I want to bring out a friend tonight, who was so gracious to come out for our last stand – Eddie Vedder.” Ed walks out, but instead of just stepping up to the mic, he puts on the current EV guitar, and my friends and I look at each other in amazement. This wasn’t just going to be a one-song, Ed-sings-backup moment, this was going to be An Event. I thought it was fairly gutsy of Ed to be playing guitar up there – he’s an amazing vocalist, fantastic lyricist, but not exactly a contender for the title of Guitar Slinger of Eastern Washington, and he’s standing up there with the self-proclaimed Guitar Slinger of Central New Jersey, not to mention Nils and Stevie. He didn’t even play guitar onstage with Pearl Jam on a regular basis for the first few years.

If there was a person in that arena who expected “No Surrender” to be the first number (okay, a person who didn’t have their ears pressed up against the loading zone door listening to the soundcheck), I’d like to meet them and have then pick some lottery numbers for me. And not just singing backup or harmony on the chorus, Ed and Bruce traded verses, the arena erupting into unexpected applause of approval as Ed sang the first line of the second verse.

His voice was clear and beautiful and at its best. Ed strummed the guitar with deadly serious precision, and managed to use the teleprompters just fine too (somewhat funny as it’s something he’d previously mentioned he’d never do, along with in-ear monitors), looking a tad relieved when he could step back. It’s was a great choice for Ed, it totally suited him in spirit and in theme – “We learned more from a three minute record than we ever learned in school” is a line that he could lay claim to as much as (if not more so) than anyone in the arena that night (including Bruce and Steve).

The song ends, we go nuts – hell, everyone goes nuts, it was fantastic. But Ed’s not taking the guitar off! Another song?! Wow. Right about at that moment, CAA erupted into an “Ed-die, Ed-die!” chant. Keep in mind: THIS WAS A SPRINGSTEEN CROWD IN NEW JERSEY! This has never happened before. Bruce had to come out at every show on the entire VFC tour and specifically request that the shows be a “no Broooooce-ing zone” so that R.E.M. could play their set in peace. Springsteen fans are not known for their acceptance of anyone else on that stage outside of the original ESB; I mean, there’s a whole contingent of fans who hate the man’s wife!

And then, our giddiness and the moment gave way to the collective sound of 20,000 jaws hitting the ground as the band lumbered into the unmistakable opening chords of “Darkness On The Edge of Town”.

Now, Darkness is my record, it came out when I was 14 and every note and every utterance and every second of that record belonged to me. For years, my standing fantasy was Ed and Bruce duetting on “Adam Raised A Cain,” from the same album. I would still kill or die to see “Adam” but watching the two of them perform “Darkness” together was still overwhelming. It was probably the first time in my life that I didn’t sing along, because I wanted to hear every single note and laser inscribe it into my brain, forever.

I imagine that, on some level, simply based on the type of music fan Ed Vedder has demonstrated that he is, and the types of songs he’s spoken about being meaningful to him, that Darkness also meant a hell of a lot to Ed when he was a kid, too -- it’s not like Ed’s never written about his own issues with his father, or anything. And Vedder did the song justice, with power and precision and passion and yearning.

So after “Darkness,” Ed still makes no move to take off the guitar. A THIRD SONG??! And then someone hits not even 1/4 of a chord and I know what it is, immediately, and I get goosebumps. Earlier in the day, while waiting in the GA line, we were killing time by discussing the Ed setlist possibilities.
“Think Bruce would do a PJ song?” J. wondered.
“It would have to be ‘Betterman’,” I replied, automatically.
J. looked at me skeptically. “Betterman” has a reputation amongst the fans of being kind of, well, overplayed.
“When he played with Townshend at that showcase a few years ago, what PJ song did they play? ‘Betterman’. It’s the first song he ever wrote. It’s Ed’s ‘Thunder Road,’ it’s the song that will never leave him.”

What was that 1/4 a chord? The opening notes to ‘Betterman’.

“Uh, hello everyone, hello New Jersey. Bruce asked me to do this song, and since he’s the boss and I’m the employee, here it is,” Ed said, clearly taking a deep breath as he did so. And then Roy’s piano plays those opening notes, and Ed starts singing.

If this had been a Pearl Jam show, I would have rolled my eyes, I would have sung along half-heartedly, I would have run through an imaginary list of songs I would rather hear than “Betterman,” I would watch Matt Cameron (who is awesome on this song). But mostly, I (and most anyone I know of the PJ persuasion, if they would tell you the truth) would largely be waiting for it to be over.

Tonight, however, things were, shall we say, a little different. Because tonight Ed was going to sing this song for all he was worth, there was no halfway, there was no crowd to sing the whole thing for him – although I have to say that the crowd was louder than I – and clearly, Ed and Bruce – expected it would be, judging by the pleased looks on both of their faces. And, tonight I was going to sing and yell and shout, I was going to do my personal best to represent every single Pearl Jam fan in the world at that moment.

And then Bruce takes a verse, and the tops of our heads exploded. Bruce Springsteen is singing a PEARL JAM song! Worlds collided at that moment, past and present connected, and it was a little bit much, to tell you the truth. Bruce was having a total blast, he so clearly loved every single second of it. He was generally incredibly loose this evening - he tried to watch Patti's set from the GA pit! - but the look on his face tonight was pure bliss, matching an expression I've only seen before at the Asbury Park Christmas shows, when he played with the likes of Jesse Malin and Sam Moore.

We should have waited, though, because the explosion was premature. Because the last thing anyone on Planet Earth – forget New Jersey, we’re talking the galaxy here -- would have suspected was for Clarence Clemons to come strolling over during the guitar break at the end of the song – that at a PJ show is a tasteful little jam while Ed figures out how he wants to end the song – and starts playing a solo.

THE BIG MAN IS PLAYING SAXOPHONE ON “BETTERMAN.”

BOOM!

That would be the sound of complete and total sensory overload. The guitar solos that followed and accompanied, from both Bruce and Ed, were inconsequential, honestly, after that. I never wanted it to end.

The crowd goes nuts, the song finishes, and Ed hugs Bruce, Ed hugs Gary, Ed hugs Patti, I believe that Ed would have hugged the entire E Street Band had time and logistics allowed, and left the stage. I remember very little of “Johnny 99” (which followed immediately after), and I felt somewhat sorry for John Fogerty for having to follow Ed, as the crowd’s reaction was not quite as animated for him. (True, Ed didn’t play “Centerfield” with a guitar shaped like a baseball bat, either.)

EV came back out for the encores, and acquitted himself admirably on both “Peace, Love and Understanding” (only guy who didn’t need the teleprompter) and fucking knocked the ball out of the park on “People Have The Power”. He sang his verse better than Bruce (who clearly missed having Stipe around to carry that number)! And at the end, being brought up as part of the E Street Band, arms around Max, hugs from Patti, hugs from Roy, even - for the bow at the end of the night.

The Vote For Change tour resulted in a lot of incredible, unbelievable moments: Michael Stipe with Bruce, Bruce singing with R.E.M., Neil Young turning up in St. Paul, Bruce and Jackson Browne singing "Racing In The Street' on this very night, as a matter of fact, as well as a whole assortment of straight Bruce/ESB moments along the tour, too. But tonight, Vedder hit the home run.

Photo thanks to Debra L. Rothenberg. USED WITH PERMISSION.

(In case it's not obvious - clearly, I'm well aware that other artists were on that stage and other music was played at this show on this night - in fact, quite remarkable performances. But I will be writing about the Springsteen segment for Backstreets, and while I'll probably write about Ed too, my editor isn't exactly going to let me go on for three pages.)

the libertines live @ webster hall, 10-12-04

So I could dutifully relate the setlist (which has been more or less the same the whole tour), give you the blow-by-blow, and write a proper concert review. But even if I did all of that, it wouldn't tell you what it was like, what - THEY - are like. The Libertines are the second coming, pure and simple, or at the very least, one of the bands leading the charge in the War Against Suck-Ass Music.

I'd like to explain to you what it is, exactly, that combination of personality and talent and sweat and attitude that makes up this band, and try to puzzle as to why on earth they aren't as big as, say, the Strokes (oh my god. this is going to be my new goddamn crusade. Dave Matthews doesn't need my help any more after that abysmal performance at the VFC finale last night). And of course there's always that "sadly ecstatic that the heroes are news" syndrome, that you don't really want your favorite band to be everyone's favorite band because then you can't turn up at 9:15 and end up three rows from the front (honestly I didn't deserve that, it was just too easy not to).

The Libertines are this great big blinding flash, they embody the spirits of so many of the bands I love(d). It's so fucking easy to toss out the Clash comparisons, and I hate doing that to ANY band, let alone this one; but unlike, say, Rancid, they didn't just mimic the sound, they grasped the essence of what was behind every member of that band, mixed it up, and parcelled it out again. I hate even venturing into this territory because it's not any kind of straight comparison in any way, shape, or form. Everyone searches for the band that sticks their hand into the big cosmic bowl of influences, pulls it out, and makes it THEIR OWN. So while the Libertines are everything that I love, they are also, in the end, only themselves. It's not mimicry or derivation, it's transformation.

It was fun, and loud, and breathless, and the girls were screaming down front, and a gang of boys trying to look so hard rushed the stage three minutes before the band went on and added some necessary testosterone to the whirling, jumping, singing crowd down front. It wasn't a mosh pit, it was what you do at a punk show, which is jump up and down and sing loudly because you're so fucking excited and you've waited forever for this show and you couldn't possibly do anything else but what you're doing at that very moment.

This, my friends, is what the Libertines are. It's the only possible way I can explain it.

"If you've lost your faith in love and music, the end won't be long..."
The Libertines, The Good Old Days

johnny ramone birthday show

Really, these things are difficult to organize. Especially given that the LA show a few weeks back was such a blowout, it was going to be hard to get people to commit to this one. And god love Arturo Vega, keeping the Ramones legacy alive, I mean, much, much respect to the guy. He painstakingly organized the same priceless exhibits that they had in LA, handwritten lyrics and old t-shirts and photos to die for, Joey's glasses, old tour calendars, you name it.

So I don't want to say that the show wasn't righteous or amazing or fantastic but it wasn't. Maybe if I didn't hate the Strokes with a blinding passion now surpassing my former hatred for the Dave Matthews Band; maybe if their fans weren't a large group of obnoxious, spoiled, ignorant, rude asses it wouldn't have been so bad.

Yes, I bought the ticket knowing the Strokes were on the bill, but didn't know they were going to be the primary reason people would attend. I have officially learned my lesson. At least at the Underground Garage Festival, I was not isolated in my contempt for this band. Tonight, I had to deal with spoiled brats yakking through everyone else's set, whining when the obligatory mosh pit opened up (and it was a kinder, gentler mosh, nothing serious or bad, so there was nothing to complain about), and ducking down in the crowd to smoke cigarettes and cheap, nasty-smelling pot. When they came on, I gave them one song and then gave up and went and browsed the exhibits, but you would have thought the Beatles had reunited on that stage, based on the crowd reaction. It depressed me, and then it depressed me that I didn't get it, and then I remembered that when I was in high school and loved the Ramones, the majority of my counterparts embraced Styx, Journey and Rush, so the fact that an overwhelming majority tonight was going ga-ga over the musicians on stage didn't mean a goddamn thing.

Back to the positives: Sonic Youth were fantastic and in great spirits. The tribute pick-up band put together by Ramones producer Daniel Rey and CJ Ramone was also rock-solid - Joan Jett and Josh Homme putting in stellar appearances. However, David Johansen (on the top of my list of reasons I wanted to be at the show) was apparently stuck on an airplane and didn't make it, and Tommy Ramone somehow couldn't get the lyrics to "Sedated" together. On the other hand, I learned that Rob Zombie does a fantastic Johnny Ramone imitation. It was hysterical. And, the aforementioned exhibits - the only bad thing there was that there was no way to properly light the display cases, and some were difficult to see clearly for that reason - not being able to view that photo of Johnny and Joe Strummer in all its glory just *hurt*.

Finally, exhaustion from the 14 hour drive back from Chicago (post-Vote For Change tour) on the previous day probably contributed to the fact that I got a headache so bad I couldn't see and finally left in the middle of the Strokes' set. The club had to open for "dance night" at 11:30, it was already 11:10, and if I toughed it out for Blondie (whom, aside from Clem Burke, I was never a huge fan of) and whatever finale was going to be put together only to find the latter rushed and unsatisfying - well, I decided I'd be a wimp and take my chances and leave early.

At the end of the day, my $50 went towards cancer research and in tribute to the Ramones, which is never a bad thing. Arturo will undoubtedly have photos of the event up at OfficialRamones.com - if you look at the photos of the LA show, you can see the memorabilia exhibit too.

It still makes me sad, out of nowhere. When we were on the road last week, one night the iPod kept serving up Ramones songs, and after the sixth one, I finally started to cry: "I can't believe they are gone."

vote for change update from the road

It will all have to settle some more, and it's not over yet either, but so far, it's been freaking *surreal*. Starting with the sight of Bruce Springsteen and Michael Stipe standing onstage together, Peter Buck and Mike Mills playing on "Born To Run," Conor Oberst hugging Clarence Clemons and jumping around the stage with a pair of maracas like an emo jumping bean, to the Dixie Chicks appearing out of nowhere last night just in time for "People Have The Power" (how is this song not a standard and why am I the only person who knows all the words? ack.)... yeah, it's been freaky all right.

The Bright Eyes/R.E.M/Springsteen pairing worked a million times better than it seemed on paper. There was so much good will and cameraderie up there, it was like the spirit of the E Street Band spilled over into everyone. Aside from some morons yelling "Freebird!" during Bright Eyes' set in Philadelphia, and some cross-armed grouchy-faced Republicans way up front in that same city (boy, did those guys *not* know what to do with Michael Stipe wiggling his ass in their faces) - the audience has been inspired and I hope empowered. And even Philly, walking out, the place was buzzing frantically and excitedly.

Other snapshots: "Sonic Reducer" on the iPod as we drove into Cleveland. The MC5 bringing us into Detroit at 3a.m. (and proudly on my shirt the next day at the show - instead of "rocking the house," Bruce invoked the Five by changing it to "Kick out the jams!"). Scoring on the GA lottery twice and being closer to the stage than I could have hoped for. Michael Stipe singing Patti's version of "Because The Night"! Bruce doing Elvis moves during his "Man On The Moon" cameo. Listening to Fogerty and the ESB soundchecking "Green River" behind a door in Detroit. The magnificence of Cobo Hall and the sadness that Detroit, such a great rock and roll town, is no more, that rooms like it pretty much no longer exist. The iPod having a sense of humor and serving up "Tiny Dancer" somewhere on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in the middle of the night, driving from Philadelphia to Cleveland, forcing us to sing along and quote "Almost Famous" to each other.

And finally, me beginning my interview with Peter Buck (for the next issue of Backstreets) with a phrase I never thought I'd utter in my entire life:

"So, as I was mentioning to Bruce just now...."

Next stop on the Vote For Change tour: Pearl Jam in St. Louis. Then back home where I'll catch the 10/13 show in New Jersey. I had a moment of temporary insanity where I started looking for 10/11 tickets, but realizing the number of performers, and how tight the show is already, the chances of there being some huge spontaneous unbelievable once-in-a-lifetime moments is slim and none... or at least that's what I'll keep telling myself.