The year was 1978. A junior at a suburban Maryland high school, my musical taste, such as it was, ran from Barry Manilow to Hall and Oates and around the bend to the Bee Gees. My good buddy, now known to all as "Uncle Freddie", worked part time at his family's record store. I say "worked" in the loosest of terms as it is my distinct recollection that the good Uncle Fred spent most of his time behind the counter underneath gigantic Kazoo like headphones and listening to the latest Top 40 release all the while popping Goldenbergs Peanut Chews.
With or without the headphones - I really don't remember - it was Uncle Freddie who, while undoubtedly in the midst of a self induced chewy chocolate haze - introduced me to the music of Bruce Springsteen.
I am fairly certain that Badlands was the first Springsteen song I ever heard. I remember clearly having to dig deep - very deep - into my pocket for the six bucks it cost me to buy "Darkness on the Edge of Town". Freddie may have squeezed me a discount, but I cant be sure. The album cover was nothing memorable - just a guy in a leather jacket - looking out at me from some room in a beat up old house somewhere. I got my copy of Darkness, fled from the White Oak Waxie Maxie record store and raced home.
When I got home, I bounded up the stairs, closed my door, peeled off the plastic and dropped the vinyl disc onto my record player. Yes, I did say record player - not turntable, not stereo - a real plastic ten dollar record player with one tinny speaker next to the volume control. Trust me when I tell you that the sound quality -well, it wasnt exactly "Bose" like. I will also tell you, with no hesitiation, that it just did not matter. It seemed to me like every song was better than the last, every one hit a chord in a different way - music by a guy who was talking about life, about love, about stuff that really mattered. I can still spit out that setlist as fast as the dates that my kids were born - Badlands, Adam raised a Cain, Something in the Night, Candy's Room, Racing in the Street, The Promised land, Factory, Streets of Fire, Prove it all Night and Darkness on the Edge of Town.
Up until then, I of course had listened to music. I do mean listened, because until Darkness I never reallly heard any of it. It gave me this "feeling" - cant quite describe it. No journalistic metaphor here. No creative quip. It was just - different.
I saved more money over the next couple of months and built my collection - first with Born to Run, then Greetings from Asbury Park and finally adding The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle.
Over the years, Bruce went through marriage, divorce and marriage again. I bought all the albums, almost always on the first day they were available. From Born in the USA through Working on A Dream. Every one. Some I liked more than others. With each release and every purchase, from album to CD, my routine never wavered. Every time I was back to being that 17 year old kid - peeling off the plastic, looking at the jacket and whatever was inside, reading the lyrics and of course, running through the disc, one song at a time, never playing a song twice and, for god sake, never listening out of the order that Bruce intended.
Most Springsteen fans I know find Born to Run to be his best piece of work. Don't get me wrong, I love that record. And every time I hear The River, I turn it up - something about that song, written about his sister, always makes me quiet. But after all the years and all the music, it is always Darkness that I go back to when I want to just sit back and listen.
A couple of months ago, I read that Bruce was releasing a new "old" album - "The Promise" was to contain the "lost songs" that were written during the Darkness years. Songs that , for one reason or another I guess, never found their way "out of the vault" as they say on satellite radio. With record stores long gone, I put my "pre release order" in at Amazon and waited. My girl Julia tried to torment me when it arrived, holding it just out of reach like a kid keeping the Barbie away from her little sister. Of course, I threw her into a choke hold and snared it out of her grasp. Not really. She just handed it over mumbling something that sounded a lot like " big doofus".
You know the drill. In my office I went, peeling the plasitc, reading the jacket from cover to cover. Listened form start to finish, a few breaks, here and there - after all , I have a responsiblity or two that I didn't have in 1978.
What can I say? A bigger and better version of Racing in the Street? Hard to believe, but true. The Way? How did he not release that one? Reminds me of "colour my World" but with a much longer "slowdance". Truly, a lot of great songs. Some recorded when Bruce had the big voice, the voice that reaches way down and pulls at you if you listen close enough. Others were recorded today - more production, more back up, but still - - - you know, different.
Funny thing. One of the tracks is titled "Gotta Get that Feeling".
Yep. I got it all right. Thanks again, Boss Man.
No comments:
Post a Comment