A searing rock’n’roll masterpiece

darkness

Before, there was the rock’n’roll dream, the youth, the grand opera romance of Born to run. And then, on June 2, 1978, there was Darkness on the edge of town. And that was it.

Darkness is where the characters of the first albums ended up, where everybody’s life sooner or later ends up: to the hard truth that life will never be easy, and you’ll not find a way out escaping in a car in the night, or with a romantic dream with your girlfriend. You’ll be scared, you’ll be angry, you’ll probably be alone for most part of it, and you’ll have a hard time tryin’ to figure out what is the meaning of all this. If there’s a meaning, even, and if there isn’t, how can I stand it?

In this album you’ll find the stories of the defeated, the men and women stripped bare of all their possessions and affections: loved ones, homes, works, hopes. But, in most songs, they not have lost their willingness to fight back. And in some lines that stay with every Bruce’s fan for all of his/her life, you learn that no matter how hard or bad things get, you can fight back because you still have your soul, a determination not to go down with a fight, because you want to be happy, it’s your right.

When I have reached low points in my own life, Darkness on the edge of town is an album that I still listen to because it offers more answers and hope than any form of therapy would. It gives me inspiration, a sense of great determination, it makes me company on my road through life.

And, last but not least, they are beautiful songs.

Lorenza

 

Summertime blues

1-marta

A moment in a Bruce show you’ll never forget

In 2008 I was in Milano, San Siro.

Now I’m going to spare you the details of how that was my first Bruce gig (not to mention my very first Rock Concert ever) and yeah, some #rocknrollbaptism I got.

I want to spare you all the same old stuff about how much I had dreamt of the day, since first becoming enthralled as a teenager with his Live 1975-‘85 —  my first Bruce and the one I knew by heart from obsessive listening.

I’ll also spare you my missing the 2003 San Siro date out of effing shyness (although, perhaps, this I’m omitting out of deep deep shame) and the 2007 Assago night despite a desperate late attempt to tickets.

And I’ll spare you the joy, the packed stadium, the widespread excitement, the dream-come-true feeling I was pervaded with on that Wednesday night, June 25th, 2008, when I was there.

Having spared you all that, I can swiftly come to the point.

He came onstage.

And me, I was waaay up on the second floor. He looked tiny in the distance. Bruce came onstage and I remained breathless for a good minute or more, repeating to myself and to my friend next to me: «I can’t believe he is there, he is real, he REALLY DOES EXIST». Then he spoke Italian, and I melted.

As he opened with Summertime Blues I was still enchanted with his presence and at the same time struggling between recognizing the song, concentrating on his every movement and accent so to record even the slightest detail, and just letting myself go and dance… This excruciating moral dilemma slowly evolved to choosing the last option as songs progressed to Out in the Street (and that «Andiamo, Milano!», like it was a matter of life or death), Radio Nowhere and Prove it all night.

I was already on the n-th cloud, but I had no idea of what was coming to me.

None.

And it’s hard to put to words, but you know it when it happens to you. It’s that little something that might… that could… you know what it can do if you let it.

That one, long blow in the harmonica. The Promised Land.

My heart bloomed in my chest. I felt home. That, was the moment.