Racing in the Street

And now we come to the final two songs in what are, to my mind, the finest four song run I’ve ever heard live, the centerpiece of Bruce Springsteen's September 19, 1978 concert in Passaic.

We start with Roy Bittan’s gorgeous piano introduction, proving once again, as if any further proof were needed, of how unsurpassed he is as a rock and roll pianist. Beautiful and just a bit sad, it gives little hint of the song to come. Until he transitions into what many consider Bruce Springsteen’s best song, “Racing in the Street.”

When Danny’s organ comes in after the first verse and chorus, it’s an awesome moment, simultaneously managing to make the music both warmer and more melancholy, something which should be impossible in theory but somehow isn’t in execution.

To kick off the second verse, Max Weinberg begins to click his snare evenly, the metronomic effect imparting a threatening sense of one’s inexorable mortality, a feeling echoed in the tiny changes Springsteen’s made to the lyrics, changing the first “summer’s here” to “summer’s hanging on.”

The song proceeds perfectly, building to a rousing instrumental section, before coming down unexpectedly for the final, subdued verse. Although the narrator has won both the race and, more important, the girl, it’s far from triumphant, as even victory and love have, to their surprise and disappointment, proven insufficient to conquer the difficulties in life. Racing and love beat them back for a while but couldn’t shut them out forever.

Springsteen’s voice in the final chorus is initially determined before dropping down resignedly. And tellingly he once again changes the original “summer’s here,” but this time it’s to a grim “summer’s gone.”

There are a few moments of Roy’s solo piano, before he’s joined by Bruce’s haunting harmonica. They duet briefly until joined by Danny’s soulful organ and Max’s subdued snare. Max adds his heartbeat-like bass drum and then some arpeggiated guitar enters. Garry’s bass and Clarence’s tambourine chime in and without even noticing it’s now the entire band. What had been verging on despondent has become something else, a quiet sense of community. They all may be feeling the same overwhelming and bleak emotions but at least they’re feeling them together.

Meanwhile, Roy has subtly transitioned from his simple yet gorgeous initial chords to some of the loveliest and most searching playing of his career, building, building, always building, intertwining with the guitars lines majestically, twisting in and out but always coming back, always returning to the pack.

And then they all drop out, leaving Roy on his own once again, playing something reminiscent of but not quite identical to his solo introduction. Subtly it begins to change. And Springsteen begins to talk.

 

Racing in the Street_plus (Passaic 1978)

By 1978, Springsteen already had a reputation for the stories he told in concert. Sometimes intense and dramatic, some hysterically funny, often surprisingly personal, many were far, far longer than audiences of the time were used to. And yet none lasted a moment longer than necessary, Springsteen keeping his listeners in the palm of his hand, a master storyteller at work.

 

That’s not what happens here. In just over a minute he gives a little backstory to the next song’s origin and then tells briefly of something related he later encountered. Almost but not quite imperceptively Roy follows him until in perfect sync they move into the next song. And as they begin the song in tandem and the audience moves along with them, you get one of those experiences that remind you, this, this is why human beings create art, for moments of pure catharsis like this. 

Comments

[zombie rotten mcdonald]

Thanks for these, they are splendid. Like I said previously, I came to Springsteen late (turned off by the unnerving success of Born In The USA, not to mention wildly distracted by new wave and punk music) but maybe it is better this way, as I have a deeper appreciation....

Hasn't the intertubes been a boon for music propagation? I have some awesome live recordings of my favorite bands, the Mekons, Genesis, Costello, Clash.... Live music is where music lives, isn't it? Unlike you, however, I love the live experiences (even if my aging back and knees and feet do not tolerate it as they used to. Interestingly, I hardly ever notice the pain during the music, but on the ride home...) The smells and the drunks and the bars, not so smoky anymore, is all part of teh package.

The only time I've seen Springsteen, it is noticeable that he and his band are adept at the ability to both hew to the recorded songs, but also to play off each other to bring new, resurgent life night after night to familiar material. You can see other bands who treat it as routine, but every time I see Springsteen (and this does remind me of the latest time I have seen my beloved Mekons http://empireofthesenseless.wordpress.com/2011/10/07/i-was-tempted-to-believe-i-was-tempted-to-believe/) I recognize that he has never felt that way, and never treated his audience as routine.

Quite a few years ago now, I went to see Blue Oyster Cult in a small club on kind of a whim. I loved that band back when I was in high school, and was a bit unhappy when they got crappy in the 80s. But it was only 15 bucks, to see them in a 300 person club, and the fact that the first time I saw them in a large venue also cost me 15 bucks for a ticket was amusing enough that I went.

And they were sublime. I call it the Cheap Trick Syndrome; a band that had some measure of success, then not so much; some bands break up in acrimony and disappointment. but some bands come to recognize that making music for a living can be its own reward, and every time on stage when someone is paying to watch you work is a treasure and you might as well pull out all the stops because you might be dead tomorrow, and who wants their last review to say "they sucked"?

[zombie rotten mcdonald]

Dammit, I 404'ed the link. Here:

http://empireofthesenseless.wordpress.com/2011/10/07/i-was-tempted-to-believe-i-was-tempted-to-believe/