Heart and soul


I don’t want to talk about what Springsteen’s music represents for me or about how it has changed my life. I don’t want to talk about the number of concerts I’ve been to or the number of nights spent waiting for the tickets to go on sale. I won’t tell you about my favourite song, nor about the one which I would love to hear live. I won’t even tell you how many times it has rained on me and I certainly won’t tell you about the number of flights I’ve taken, bad sandwiches I’ve eaten and t-shirts I’ve bought; about the amount of money I’ve invested in this crazy passion of mine. Why?

Because I found this photo I’d forgotten about in an old folder. And despite how faded and out of focus it is I still think that this picture portrays everything that Springsteen represents for me. Excitement. Passion. Friendship. The sax that poured notes in the background that night gave us hope and left us with a lasting impression that we will never forget. There’s me, my wife and our friends, crazily happy to be there together in that embrace.

I don’t really like the word brotherhood, but looking at this photo it is exactly this word that comes to mind.

I remember the next day sitting on the plane home listening to that life-affirming song again with my wife. It’s all about driving through the night.

We looked at the bored faces of all the other passengers roaming through their lives and we suddenly had once more tears in our eyes. That thrill, that excitement, that emotion had still not left us after 24 hours. And thinking back to that day, to that unforgettable night in that amazing arena and trying to describe it, I still have goosebumps.

Fucking die hard fans

And so one day in 2012 I jumped on a train to Florence, to reach some people I barely knew at the time, to go in front of a stadium at 7 am, waited for hours, get so wet under the rain that not even in the shower, took this picture,  took a wristband and entered the first pit in my life, get even more wet under the rain, and then some, almost ruined a cell phone, heard the crowd asking One more song! and Bruce under the Deluge both amazed and pleased dedicating “One more for the fucking die hard” who didn’t quit, ended completely soaked and totally happy. Most importantly, I had understood that Bruce, the Band and my friends were more than fully worthwhile of all this.

Just friends


I don’t have any particular story that I want to share about by fandom, but there’s one thing I do want to tell: a praise for all the special friends I’ve met thanks to Bruce. A lot of fantastic people, and having some of them in my life is not even remotely comparable to collect pit wristbands (that anyway I’ll loose, sooner or later), or rare vinyls (anyhow,  how many versions of the same Lp do I really have to have?), or pictures. Not that I’ve any picture with Bruce. Even so, I’ll probably be out of focus.