Happy Birthday Big Man #ClarenceClemons #BruceSpringsteen


Happy birthday Big Man. It seems impossible that in a few weeks I’ll see the Band again, and you will not enter the stage just a moment before Bruce, larger than life, with a huge smile, joining your hands and bowing to greet us. Impossible, but so it goes life. But you’ll be there, in many ways, and that’s how love goes.

“Standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I’d written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that… that’s what I’m gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that’s just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart.
Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.”
Bruce Springsteen

THAT happy


Well, let’s see.

Interminable journeys, endless waiting, friends, rock’n’roll, guitars, passion, adrenaline, dozing off, happiness, improvised beds, that amazing feeling of being home when your home is actually miles away, years in between but you see your Bruce buds and it’s like you’ve seen them just the day before, shattered sleep, the Flood above us, pink windbreakers and the glasses completely fogged, being happy all together like children even if next year I’m 38, Clarence’s images on screen and thinking of my father, foam rubber in the car after the show, The Six Million Dollar Man driving us home in the night, the endless laughing, that stupendous feeling of being normal even if you’re doing bat shit crazy things.

And then there’s still people who’s asking you: Why are you doing it?

See my smile? I’ve been rarely THAT happy in my life. I mean completely, totally, nothing like that amazingly happy. But each and every time I’m at a Bruce’s show, I’m that happy.