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.

 

Heart and soul

meconi

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.