Some things never change


It’s been 25 years. July 25, 1988, my first show, still stands as a highwater mark of my life. There have been others since, of course. But although I lost all sense of direction trying to get home that night and had to call my dad to come and get me, the show gave me a new direction in life and a new outlook on just about everything. I knew that Bruce Springsteen was now more than just good music to me. He was a guiding light and a means of finding purpose and content in my existence. I wanted to communicate what I experienced that night, and I wanted to re-experience it.

And communicating and re-experiencing it is what I’ve been trying to do ever since. Thus, although no one had even heard about the internet back in 1988, Greasy Lake is a direct result of that night 25 years ago. And seeing Bruce 59 times since has been my feeble attempt to take myself back to how I felt standing on my chair among 45,000 of my best friends singing along to “Twist and Shout” on a beautiful Copenhagen summer night. Sometimes I’ve been close. Other times not so much. And still other times I’ve felt what seemed even better. But never quite the same. And that’s probably the way it should be. Not to mention, it would be impossible. Times are different now. More individualism in society. Less inclination for strangers to morph into that one big soul. Bruce is different. He’s no longer that 38-year-old desperate man playing four-hour shows, because he couldn’t face his real life off stage. And I’m different. Halfway through my life. Mostly content. And a little harder to impress.

But just a little. The next show I saw, two days later, in Herning, was the best one ever. Some things never change.

(you’ll find the whole story on Greasy Lake: )

The telegram


In 1988 I was still in High School, and let’s say I wasn’t stellar in my grades. The Tunnel of Love Tour had started, and my mother agreed to let me see a show only if I failed no more than two subjects that school year (she has a gentle soul). I was at the sailing summer camp when the school gave the exams results, and I still have somewhere the telegram she sent me at the Camp: FAILED ONLY HISTORY & MATHS,  BRUCE SHOW IS SAFE KISSES MOM

Then in that very summer, after the Tunnel of Love shows, he announced the Amnesty Tour in September, and of course the very day of the concert I had my damn History test (karma has a way of biting you in the ass, you know…), so a new series of negotiations with my mother ensued. But at the end I just promised I would have passed that exam, that’s all.

So I went to the exam with my Tunnel of Love t-shirt under the suit, and as soon as the teacher let us go I jumped out of it kinda Superman-style, run to the train station and off to the show.

I had just the normal teenage years turbulence, you know. Just full of Bruce’s rock’n’roll, lucky me.