This wild bunch of incurable rock’n’roll romantics

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In the end, you don’t jump on another plane to join one more queue just for the music or the personal statistics on songs and concerts seen. You move to the next show, and you answer to the very same question co-workers and relatives pose you each time, “But haven’t you seen him ten times already?” (and these are the same people who each friday order in the same restaurant the same burger year after year after year, not to mention they spend their vacation for ten or twenty years on the same place in the same month, just sayin’) for one very good reasons. Your friends, the Bruce buds you meet right before or after the show, they are not part of your everyday’s life, but they are IN your life much more than some old faces you have to see in your day every ten minutes.
You see them tour after tour, and this is goin’on from years now, you joke on the growing of your potbelly and kids, and on the receding line in your hair.
Your beards can be greysh, ok let’s say they are more grey than any other color, but you look around during the show and you see your friends jumping and laughing like ten or twenty, or thirty years ago, this wild bunch of incurable rock’n’roll romantics, and you love them just like they love you.
And that’s why you do it, not just for Bruce and the Band.

 

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