Rock of Ages Springsteen’s Music Strikes a Primal Chord Among Fans
by Kevin Ott
Staff Writer
Sprung from cages out on Highway 9, chrome-wheeled, fuel-injected, and steppin’ out over the line…
He’s coming.
If you listen, you can hear the tour bus rumbling. If you sniff, you can smell the sweat and diesel fumes. If you close your eyes, you can see the exhaust smoke drifting out over the Jersey Shore.
He’s coming.
Tomorrow night, an ocean of denim will flow into the Bryce Jordan Center as Bruce Springsteen, the Patron Saint of the Garden State, takes the stage. On what seems like the zillionth show of a tour that stretches back to early 1999, fans flood from all over to see him,
The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors and the boys try to look so hard…
To millions from his generation ­ and many from younger generations ­ Springsteen is it. The Stones times Elvis to the power of John Lee Hooker and Buddy Guy. The one good thing to come out of music in the last century, The Boss.
He kicks the spandex-clad butts of most of his contemporaries, says Dave Parry.
“He was the only one of those guys that lived and didn’t go nuts,” he claims.
Parry is a Penn State professor of philosophy and a blues musician. You could call him a Springsteen fan, but the word “fan” implies an excitedness that laid-back Springsteenites are too cool to have. Call him an enthusiast.
“He really is working in the rock and roll tradition,” says Parry, attributing Springsteen’s popularity to a firm understanding of the roots of rock music. “This guy is like a walking encyclopedia.”
But, he says, that’s a scientific reason. It’s not the real reason.
Baby, this town rips the bones from your back. It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap. We’ve got to get out while we’re young…
“He’s almost like New Jersey’s Faulkner,” says Parry.
Springsteen is the voice of the regular people, the people who are in their thirties and still working at photocopy stores or slinging chili sauce at 7-11.
He knows ­ and conveys ­ the feeling of remembering those big dreams you had in high school, the dreams that went nowhere when you got your girlfriend pregnant or your parents kicked you out of the house or that job at the foundry didn’t go anyewhere.
“You’re talking about a guy who really took this stuff seriously,” Parry adds.
Springsteen sang about labor unions and homelessness ­ stuff he probably saw a lot of in Asbury Park ­ when everybody else was too cool or too rich to pay attention. That concern, coupled with his music, gave him a real honesty not too many other rock stars have, says Parry.
The appeal is cross-generational.
Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist…
John Steed is 24. He lives in Harrisburg, but he’s making the two-hour drive tomorrow to see the show. He’s made longer ­ and less convenient ­ trips to see Springsteen.
Once, he flew to Chicago on a Tuesday and returned that night. Another time, he drove from Ithaca to Cleveland, then drove back home after the show.
He owns every CD. He spends all his money on bootlegs. It drives his girlfriend crazy.
Like Parry, Steed thinks Springsteen’s appeal is in his honesty.
“When I first started listening, I thought, ‘hey, this guy can do more than just scream out rock anthems,’” he says.
As a younger guy, he doesn’t think it’s odd that he’s such a big fan. He’s seen younger ­ and much, much older ­ at the concerts he’s been to.
“When you go to these shows, you see all kinds of people,” he says.
That’s why Springsteen will last forever, says Steed. He talks to everybody.
“He always just kind of lingers,” he says. “There’s always a presence.”
We’re gonna get to that place, when we really want to go, and we’ll walk in the sun…
Brian Molnar met Bruce Springsteen once.
It was a few years ago, at a Steve Earle show at the Tradewinds club in New Jersey. Earle is a rockabilly artist who, for several years, was down on his luck and without a job. His own record company rejected him. Springsteen’s type of guy.
Bruce joined Earle on stage during the encore, played some rhythm guitar and sang backup. They stuck to Earle’s playlist; nobody played “Born in the USA.”
“I don’t think he wanted to steal the show from him,” says Molnar.
After the show, Molnar ­ a Jersey native who attends Penn State Altoona ­ was getting into his car. He noticed a black Explorer next to him. Bruce Springsteen was getting in.
Molnar complimented him on the show and made a comment about getting mobbed by fans.
“He just kind of smiled, and said hi, and gave that little nod that he gives,” he says.
A regular guy.
Parry sees Springsteen as one of the roots of rock music. Steed says that, once someone gets to be as much of a star as he is, they never fade away.
Even nonfans offer their respect, he says.
“At a minimum,” he says, “they think, ‘here’s a regular guy, he works hard, and he’s honest.’”
Honest. That says it all.
Tramps like us… Baby, we were born to run…