Close encounters of the Bruce kind

With the release of a new cd, his first ever Super Bowl half-time show and a tour starting in April, this is a good time to be a fan of Bruce. If you have to ask “Bruce who?”, you either don’t know me well or don’t recognize the man in the photo. I’ve been a fan since about 1981, when GM brought over a copy of Born to Run and urged me to listen because “he sounds like Meatloaf”. At the time it was a compliment.
Over the years I’ve spent a lot of time and money enjoying his music, both on album, cd and at concerts. Bruce’s music, that is, not Meatloaf’s.
In addition to just the music, there have been a lot of great memories. Sleeping on the sidewalk at Town & Country Village to be in line when the box office opened was one. I know, it doesn’t sound like much fun but looking back it was one of those crazy “kid” things to do. Concert goers these days have it so easy.
Two memories that stand out occurred with my friend, GJ-R. In 1988, during the Tunnel of Love tour, my reading of previous concert reviews showed that fans were being let into the arenas before the show started, usually in time to hear a few songs of the sound check -- that’s the performance of a few songs prior to the show, presumably to check the sound levels and speakers and whatnot.
GJ-R and I both got some time off from work and her mother got us tickets to the show in Tacoma, close to where GJ-R was from. It was my first trip to Washington so it was all pretty cool.
After spending the night with her folks, we made plans to get to the Tacoma Dome early. Waiting for the show to begin, we were able to press our ears to the doors to listen to some of the music, which was pretty neat itself. Then, the doors opened. Baby, we were born to run!
After showing our tickets (I don’t think there was much in the way of security in those days), GJ-R and I ran into the Dome, making our way down to the arena floor and then to the stage.
We were actually at the foot of the stage, looking up to the E Street Band playing a couple of Chuck Berry tunes. The house lights were on and the band members were wearing sweat suits -- generally looking like they had just gotten out of bed.
On a notepad I had (to write down the song list) I hastily scribbled something like “can you play Backstreets for my friend, attending her first Bruce concert?” I wanted to try to hand it to Bruce when they left the stage but for some reason (maybe the big man in the shirt that said SECURITY) I couldn’t/didn’t. Much to our surprise, that song was played a couple of hours later. It was a great show and getting in early was really a treat.
About eight years later GJ-R and I decided to attend two concerts of Bruce’s solo tour. I’d heard he was coming out after the show to meet with fans, so we figured we might have the chance to actually talk to him or something. This time, the logistics were a bit more complicated since GJ-R was now living near Tacoma and Bruce’s concert was in San Jose.
If my memory is correct, I drove down to San Jose while GJ-R flew down. The show was fun but no opportunities to meet the man himself. The next day GJ-R flew back to her home and I drove north to mine. I believe Bruce was playing a benefit in LA that day.
The following day I drove north to Portland and GJ-R drove south to Portland, rendezvousing in the City of Roses -- the site of that night’s concert.
That show was very good, our seats were closer than the previous concert and the sound seemed to be better inside the much smaller venue.
Afterward we went outside and waited (along with a couple of other fans) by the stage door. Yea, just like in the movies.
Some time had gone by when a van pulled up, presumably so Bruce could make a quick getaway. But after he came outside he didn’t get into the van -- he got on top of the van -- and started signing autographs and talking with the growing crowd.
I gave GJ-R the only scrap of paper I had (my ticket stub) and ran a few blocks to the car to get the camera out of the glove box. I returned a few minutes later and got some shots. I do recall shouting out “hey Bruce, how about a nice smile for the camera?” and he looked up, making a cheesy grin as I snapped the picture. I can’t recall how long he signed autographs, but we stayed as long as he did.
Afterward, we drove back to the motel and then walked to a nearby 7-Eleven for some snacks and a chance to soak in what had happened.
I saw Bruce perform again in 1999, going to concerts with TS, MB and GJ-R. GJ-R again came south for the show, and TS and I got stuck in snow on the way back north. TS and I saw two shows and both were very good, but putting up with the crowds and obnoxious people for the chance to watch video monitors from the upper deck just didn’t compare to my previous experiences. That was the last time I went to any of his concerts, not just because the experience has changed but because I’ve changed. I keep thinking to myself “it’s just not worth the hassle”.
Listening to music is a big part of living, I think. But it’s not just the notes and lyrics. It’s the experiences you have, sharing it with friends.
I can never hear The Knack’s My Sharona without thinking of standing with GM on the bouncing floor of Stanford’s Maples Pavilion. California Girls brings back memories of my first karaoke venture with my former roommate and good friend, Tim S. There is no way I can hear Southern Pacific’s A Thing About You without thinking of dancing with TS on the side of the stage at the Expo.
Good music + good friends = good times