Some dance to remember



The summer I turned fourteen a cute boy living in my street gave a party at his parent’s house, he was older than me, and rumors said there would be under-the-counter beers.

All the girls in my classroom were invited, I was a gangly red-head, and summer equalled a million freckles for me. But I already had well defined music tastes, and a friend of my family gave me weekly guitar lessons.

My two girlfriends picked me at home and we arrived at the party house, there were loud music and laughs, they had already begun. And right there, we halted at the landing and we couldn’t find the courage to enter, we were suddenly shy, you ring the bell, no YOU do it, they’ll look at us, EVERYBODY will!

And while this discussion was going on with whispers and shoves from me or one of my friends, from inside the house come this selection in sequence: I’m goin’ down, I’m in fire, Born in the USA, and while debating we danced together on the landing.

The set, and our private party, ended with Dancing in the dark: we danced that one, then acknowledged that we’d never have the courage to actually enter that room full of older boys and girls, and we headed home.

23 years later when Bruce said to me Ok, come on, and choosed -invited me- for Dancing in the dark onstage, I had a moment remembering that sunny sunday afternoon and my first dance in the dark on a landing, too shy to enter the grown up world but not so meek to avoid dancing one of his songs.




The five elements


If someone, in a far too cheap diner, someday somehow would found a secret passage leading to alter the time-space continuum, and consequently deprived me of Bruce’s music in my whole life, a chain reaction of events will activate, ending with me reduced, simply diminished, of 5 essential features.

First. Deprived of a lot of acquaintances but most of all of incredible friendships, with whom I shared unforgettable moments of life lived, that real life you are actually glad to remember and have in your past, and share with others. Those crazy moments in a picture, “Oh yeah I made that in Rome before Bruce’s show, my two buddies had set their minds on taking a photo with those kids. They’re a handball team. Chinese. No, they’re not famous, we ended up with the picture and then discovered they were actually a team.” This kind of friendship with so many levels of contact and a way of living life in symbiosis with music is kinda rare and special.

Two. Deprived of a lot of unforgettable things and decisions that pushed me further as a human being, for example that time I was not even of age and took for the first time in my life a flight, with eight virtual friends met on a Bruce’s forum (so actual strangers in real life) and traveled with them half of Spain to see the last shows of that tour. And I know if you say it aloud now, it seems not so a big deal. But I really was a kid then, and this meant the world to me.

Third. Deprived of 75% of the music I now love and can’t possibly live without. To be reaaally honest I would have to say 90%, but I want to believe I’m smart enough to think that maybe a 15% of my music I would have been able to discover it by myself, without Bruce’s help (and this also includes all the Bruce buds who pass -and passed- me suggestions for new and old bands during the years).

Fourth. Deprived of Bruce’s music. That, even if it all came down to this point, would be a bitter, infinite sorrow.

Fifth, and last. Deprived (or at least not so rich) of a series of human principles, values, hopes, dreams. Different ways to see the world, both abstract and concrete. There’s this thing Bruce said in Austin in 2012 that really made me think, I don’t know why it moved me so much but it really had an effect on me, it inspired me and I think helped me so much in some difficult choices I had to make in the past two years. He said: Be able to keep two completely contradictory ideas alive and well inside of your heart and head at all times. If it doesn’t drive you crazy, it will make you strong.” Being told something like this really opens your mind, and your conscience as well.

So, if you stayed with me through all the 5 points, I think you’ll definetly agree that it’s a real convenient lucky thing that certain far too cheap diners with particular secret passages only exist in good literary fiction.



Can you hear me?


It’s your special day! Hope you spend it just your way!

My name is GB, I’m 5 years old today!

I love the Boss and The E-Street Band since I was in my mummy’s belly from where I’ve already attended one show.

Mummy says that when I was a newborn, I smiled if there was a Bruce’s song in the air, because I recognized his voice, believe it or not. I don’t remember though. But now, I sure like Tom Joad, Born to run and Jesse James … I try to sing them, but I do not speak American so I create my own words, it just works fine!

When I see some video, I really get excited during the E-Street presentations, I know all the E Street members, and I repeat the words with Bruce. And I like the drums.

Sometimes Bruce onstage makes me laugh, and I like Jake and the moves he makes when he plays his saxophone. And I love his hair too!

Today is my birthday, I’m so happy!

So, I send my “ciao” to all of you and if possible to Bruce ideally…I really consider him part of my family since…forever!

Now, let’s eat some cake.

Rewind the memories on Bryn Mawr (and great Ed Sciaky)


Great story from Tom Cunnigham.

Last week when I read a friend’s post about Ed Sciaky being gone for 11 years, it really was a knock upside the head. Forty years ago tonight, a classic Springsteen show — one of his greatest (and most-bootlegged) performances, featuring the premiere of “Thunder Road” (then known as “Wings for Wheels”) along with early versions of “Jungleland” and “Born to Run,” and the first-known cover of “Mountain of Love.” February 5, 1975, broadcast on Philadelphia’s WMMR and hosted by the late, great DJ Ed Sciaky.  Part of Ed’s well deserved legacy as a Philadelphia radio icon will always be tied in with Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band’s historic show at the Main Point in Bryn Mawr.
I had no idea about said show/broadcast. I was away at school and no one had bothered to invent streaming radio station audio and or texting or any such stuff at that point, so who knew. I discovered that show on a crappy sounding bootleg album later that summer, happily upgrading at least three times to various CD sets over the years.
As a baby disc jockey, it was a treat to cross paths with Ed, and even more fun to get to know him and to talk Bruce with him.
When I began doing the Bruce Brunch on 105.7 The Hawk in December 2003, Ed called, and he was naturally curious about what I was up to. He was still doing his Sunday night Bruce show on WMGK and was, of course, cheesed that I was doing a two hour program, and he ‘only’ had a one hour show. A month and a half after that, he would be gone.
The cassettes that you see here were a gift from Ed to me in 1994. When he found out we were moving to LA, he called and during the course of the conversation said that he wanted to do something cool as a parting gift, but couldn’t come up with any ideas. It took two seconds to for me come up with something—my request was that he make me a cassette copy of whatever original recording that he had on tape of the Main Point show. Naturally, he groused and said I probably had the show on CD in much better quality and blah blah blah…all of which I agreed with—then I gave him my address and told him I’d be on the lookout for the tapes.
It goes without saying, but I’ll be listening to the show on these today.

Bryn Mawr