Reason To Believe

A few months ago, we went to a little hole in the wall bar to see the This Is American Music Tour featuring the Drams and three other midwestern cowpunk bands.  Even though the soundtech was a hack and the PA was shit and the sound was too loud for the little space, we had many beers and the bands got extremely drunk and the evening culminated in a bar-time challenging set of cover encores that featured all the members of all four bands, or at least as many as could fit on the stage, blasting their way through a few well worn songs.

One of the songs they thrashed their way through was 'Born To Run'.  I was 14 when it came out; the age Young Pilgrim is now.  I bought the album in high school, and I believe the vinyl is still in the cases somewhere, in very nearly pristine condition.  You see, I was all about the Metal, and before too long Punk Broke over my sorry head, and well, Bruce Springsteen just seemed to mainstream and too old, you know?

But I'm old now, too; the song, as performed by these drunken bar-band nobodies (at least when compared to The Boss) was oddly and amazingly moving.  The song describes trial and hope and weariness and joy, all together in a story of redemption and hope. Maybe it's getting older, maybe things come around again, maybe the music has always had power and relevance, but I found myself turning to the reissue of Born To Run with a new, more appreciative eye; or ear; whatever.

Supporting a new album with the old E Street band, Springsteen is touring and when a Milwaukee date was announced, I told people that I had bought tickets, to much astonishment.  Maybe astonishment is the wrong word; bemusement?  Confusion?  Out of character, I'd guess.  I told most that it was a show that I thought I should rack up, he had a legendary status as a live act.

But the reality is that I've been finding more and more relevance, solace, and comfort, in his songs, especially his recent stuff like Ghost of Tom Joad and Devils and Dust.  So we went.

It's odd that even without being a compulsive fan, as the band threw themselves into the songs, I could still name most of the members:  Little Stevie, of course; Max Weinberg, Roy Bittan, Nils Lofgren, Clarence Clemons.... all legendary in their own right. As they launched into "No Surrender", the strength, the joyful power of the band and the music overwhelmed me.  Redemption.

During the show, one of the slower periods, he brought out a guest musician:  Richard Davis, a bass player from Madison who played on the original BTR album, to play Meeting Across The River.  Springsteen said he hadn't seen Davis in 30 years, but they played like they had been practicing for months, and when the song ended, embraced with real affection.... and real respect for each other as musicians who shared the commonality of that work they did together, but even more - the commonality of music. One a smart-aleck New Jersey kid who became a rock legend, and the other a black jazz artist who became an academic in the midwest.

Today, Barack Obama made a speech on race; a speech that was the most frank, straightforward public remarks on race I've ever heard.  Hell, as the Rude Pundit said, "...the straightest talk...from a presidential candidate... in (my) lifetime."  The speech was direct without being accusatory or defensive, and yes, ultimately hopeful.  Maybe, even, redemptive.  But more, even more, it provided a foundation, a common platform for decent people of good intentions to begin a long overdue discussion on race relations and how to... heal. 

But watching Bruce Springsteen with his band, with Clarence Clemons and Davis, I remembered many years ago when we'd spend Sunday nights in a predominantly black jazz club watching jam session night, and there were nothing but musicians on stage....  the common ground of music has always been there.  Divides between white and black music, punk, rock, rap have always been the province of record company weasels; musicians don't see those pigeonholes.   Aerosmith played with Run-DMC; Elvis Costello recorded with Allen Toussaint.  Obama's speech was timely, necessary even; but for people who've been able to find common ground, the sentiment may be largely "why did it take everyone else so long?"

Springsteen's music is wrapped up in common ground.  A couple of times during the show, he talked about the nightmare of the last eight years.  But as they ended with an amazing, rousing and jig-inflected "American Land",  only the most wingnutty of wingnuts would have dared to accuse him of hating America, even as he expressed and demonstrated the sentiments and ideals of the Dirty Fucking Hippies.  It's a trick that Obama has apparently learned.

Springsteen and his band ended with a six song encore built around the seminal Born To Run.  The song was brilliant, joyous... redemptive.  The sound of the nine member band roared through the biggest barn in the region, and even though playing the song for the umpty-thousandth time, Bruce (can I call him Bruce now?) still showed the joy of playing as if he was singing the song about himself; after two hours, it could still inspire him to wring every last ounce of energy from his aging body and the band followed him fearlessly.  Redemption.

But you know?  I think maybe those drunken bar-band musicians on that tiny stage in that dive bar in Bayview captured the reality of the song more than possible for Springsteen anymore; playing as if hell was outside the door and their guitars were the only things they owned.  Characters in a thirty year old song were one thing; this was their life.  Redemption indeed; every night, and get back in the van.