Hi Girls,
courtesy of blog.nj.com
The other night I had the honor of attending my sixth Bruce Springsteen show at the Meadowlands in New Jersey. If you’ve ever been to one, you know it’s three and a half hours of the man’s blood, sweat and tears. I can’t imagine the Boss has ever done anything half assed– tickets may go for around $100, but he makes sure no one goes home hungry- hearted. Springsteen tends to play for over 3 hours, (and the man just turned 60 years old!) and he puts every ounce of physicality into him performance. The stage serves as a giant playground for him, and he covers every inch. He runs, jumps, and leaps around– he hurls guitars at his E Street band mates, twirls his body around the mic stand, moves into the crowd, kissing their hands and grabbing their beers and chugging those beers in between verses. He also unloads all of his emotion– his songs are always epically ambitious– he tackles love, loss, and the glory and disappointment of the American dream. There’s no such thing as a throw away song for Springsteen.
I’ve only recently re-arrived in New York—after a four year sabbatical in which I explored the middle of the country and Southern California. These were all very wonderful places but I was born in New York City and when you’re born in a place it stays in your blood. My best friend and I — the same girl with whom I attended my previous five shows–boarded the bus from Port Authority and took the quick trip to the Meadowlands. On the way, we shared red wine and brie, but when we arrived, we immediately switched to Miller Lite and pizza. You can’t exactly bellow “Bruuuuce” while sipping on Pinot Noir. No, you have to be slugging brew and gnawing on stale pizza crust.
What I didn’t know, having been on the west coast for the last 2.5 years, is that I was seeing my very last Meadowlands Springsteen show– Giants Stadium is to be torn down in 2010, and the Boss ain’t happy about it. He tore into a new song called “Wrecking Ball,” which he wrote just for that night. It’s a searing, confrontational jam that challenged the powers that be to “Take your best shot/Let me see what you’ve got/Bring on your wrecking ball,” he growled. “My home is here at the Meadowlands / Where mosquitos grow as big as airplanes / Here where the blood is spilled, the arena is filled / And Giants play the game,” he sang, as the stadium cheered at the reference. Scrolling on the jumbotron were the words to the song, a special feature the band added so that we could all sing along, 50,000 strong, in case anyone was listening.
Another song my new friends and I sang? Happy Birthday to the Boss, whose 60th birthday was just the week before. As we sang, he smiled back at us.
A Springsteen show, with excellent seats courtesy of my dearest friend, was just the reminder I needed that New York is my home. The tough fight that lies in Springsteen’s lion heart is something I’ve missed. In lovely Southern California, things tend to come a little easier, and in that sense they’re taken for granted, and a sense of guilt can sink in. In NYC, you’ve gotta fight for everything you want, and if you get it, you feel that much more alive. (But this is really just my personal opinion.) Springsteen played “Born to Run” in its entirety that night, and the best, as always for me, was “Thunder Road.”
“Show a little faith there’s magic in the night,” we cried along with him. And for the first time in a while, I believed there truly was, and it was certainly alive that night.
Did I mention I nabbed a setlist?
Bruce's setlist and Me
I certainly did! Have a fabulous weekend and see you for Gossip Girl Monday Night!
xoxo
Sarah
After a few glasses of wine, and some yummy appetizers we can be a crowd that is hard to quiet down. As our discussions wind down, we often end up turning our iPod speakers up and singing and dancing around my living room, (yes, like we did when we were 15… some things never change.) But technology has changed, and so should we, so on our next girls night, we are excited to introduce our friends to 
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