Bobby Jean


When I was young I had this cassette, my first downright musicassette, not just Bruce’s. First song was Johnny ByeBye, then Bobby Jean; it was an old tape, and you know how it was (if you were there when you paid for great music), you loved your tapes, and if they broke you tried to wind in the tape, to adjust it. And generally you succeeded, even if sometimes the tape got a little ruined in some places. And mine was like this, there was a little lameness in Bobby Jean, precisely when Bruce was talking of the rain and the fear, their was this delicate shrivel up of the words and the music, just for a second. But for me, it was like when you’re a baby and you’ve got your old teddy bear, all ruined and the threadbear fur and even without a paw, you LOVE it. So that was my song, my Bobby Jean, a little wrinkled, but mine, through the years and all the listening.

At that time, for me Bobby Jean was a love song, still is, actually. I did not have the texts, so I had figured in my mind all this movie of a love story with a beautiful girl. I did not understand all the words but I had this feeling that it was a story of two people who would never really leave each other. And I was not so mistaken, considering.

Yes, it’s a song for Stevie who was quitting the E Street Band.

But when you listen to it, alone in your car, with someone special, with a friend, with your love, in the dark of your bedroom or in front of a stage, it’s always the same and different song. If you’re in love, if you’ve been dumped, if a love has just ended or if a new one is just growing, with a brother or with a stranger you have just met under that stage, with someone who has been there for you your entire life: Bobby Jean has always something to tell you.

It speaks to you of a kind of love that never dies.



We’ve all had some of those Springsteen moments


Music has always been important for me. Not a day has passed in my life without some music in it. Sometimes it helped me to escape from reality or relaxing on a bad day, sometimes it just kept me good company. But it was a passion I did not share: it was mine and nobody else’s.  Then Bruce’s music entered my life, and it changed that role: his lyrics about looking out and loving beyond ourselves, about brotherhood and love that can exist among good friends, his belief in gaining strenght from relationships… All these messages became real when I started meeting persons who shared the same passion during Springsteen’s concerts or tribute bands events and I quickly established relationships with them. Some of them have become real good friends and, in spite of distances, we try to stay in contact as soon as we can; they have really become an important part of my everyday life. That’s what Bruce’s music has meant to me, and I’ll be forever grateful.

In this picture I’m with two of my dearest bloodsisters sharing one of our “Springsteen” moments (I’m the one with the curly hair).

Just friends

Her: Friendship is one of the most beautiful feelings to live because it fills you with warmth, emotions, empathy; it enriches you yet it’s completely free. All of a sudden you choose each other, you let that person enter your life, you both build intimacy and affection. And the best thing is, you can walk together and grow up together even if at a certain point your lives take different paths, even if you are far away. You are not on the same road, but you go in the same direction.
Him: I completely agree. Our Bruce buds bunch is like those characters in Big Wednesday, where even if they don’t see each other in years when there’s the big sea storm they found themselves in the waves without even call or look for each other. Bruce is our heavy sea, he resets to zero the time passed between tours, and even if it has been years since we saw each other, we start up again like we’ve seen each other just the day before.


Serenade in Rome

You know, when you go to a show, there’s not just THE show. There’s a lot of stuff, in “the show”.

Last summer I went to Rome with my buddies, to see Bruce live there and spend a couple of days in the City.

I’m that kind of guy who hates absolute certainty, both in people and life. So, can I say it was the best concert I’ve seen, so far?

Maybe. Probably.

Maybe for Rome itself, beautiful, amazing, and funny.

Maybe for my mates and our Long live ignorance! code of conduct. These are my friends, they are totally crazy and gross, and I love them.

Maybe for the rain eating away the map while we tried to figure out where we were, maybe for a picture taken with a handball Chinese kids team, maybe for the time spent in Cinecittà proceeding from Ben Hur to some italian Tv trash series.

Maybe for the expected kebab meal at an absurd hour with some drunk Australians, or a strange bartender who had our own musical tastes.

Maybe for the taxis driven by poets, for some homeless guy in a suit, and reastaurants frequented by trashy smokers and hoes.

Maybe for the decision to give another chance to five-a-side football, gaining a little limp for two days that had a crucial need for walking around, and jumping at a rock concert.

Maybe for songs that have been in your wish list for so long: Roulette, Lucky Town, Brilliant disguise, Kitty’s back, Incident on 57th Street, New York City Serenade.

Maybe because on the same night on that stage I’ve seen two crazy, ridicoulous girls dressed as spouses, and one girl who received a proposal and will be a spouse for real.

Maybe for the “usual” magic of a Springsteen’s show.

Maybe because with just a guitar and an harmonica he made quiet thousands of italians, and when you succeed in that you really can silence anybody. I’m Italian myself, trust me, I know it

Maybe because it was like if each and everyone of us had won a fucking lottery, that night.

There’s a lot of stuff, in a Bruce Springsteen show.

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