Glory Days

Bruce Springsteen was born on September 23rd, 1949 in New Jersey, which makes him a couple months younger than my mother (I hope she doesn't mind this admission.  Trust me, Ima, I'm going somewhere with this...)  

Now: my mother has serious amounts of energy for any age -- she is constantly doing/going/planning/cooking/gardening/organizing.  To the point where I need to gently remind, when I visit, that I'm there for vacation.  IE: I need to feel okay with being lazy, so could she just sit down and read a book with a cup of tea in the afternoon for at least 15 minutes...?  That way, I don't feel like such a massive sloth watching her simultaneously polish silver, plant geraniums and whip up a batch of my favorite tomato-fennel soup.  

However!

I think even my formidably energetic mother would be hard-pressed to perform the rollicking 3.5 hour rock 'n roll set that Bruce "Almighty" Springsteen graced Dublin with on Wednesday night.  He. Was. Amazing.  And, even after 30+ years of selling out to massive crowds, delivering multiple critically/commercially acclaimed albums and incessant touring, he still manages to convince the audience there's no place he'd rather be than up on that stage, singing his heart out for them...

At one point, he brought a six-year-old kid up to help him sing a few verses of 'Waiting on a Sunny Day.'  I know a few MASSIVE fans, who would give their left arm/leg/testicle for this very opportunity.  And I can't help feeling that, for that little boy, life can only get more disappointing from here on out...he must have been LEGEND at school yesterday.

 Also, I'm not entirely proud of this behavior -- oh, who am I kidding?  Am secretly delighted with myself -- but a friend and I managed to make our way [sneak] into the pit, despite our lack of blue, purple or any other color wristband.  As easy as "just walk in through that entrance, past the men in hi-viz jackets, and act for all the world like you're supposed to be there..." Sure, we had to spend the rest of the concert hiding our left wrists from view of surrounding fans and stewards, but it was a small price to pay for being in concert-cam vicinity to The Boss.  

He finished his blistering set and encore at 11 p.m. with 'Rocky Ground,' a song he called "a prayer to Ireland" during troubled economic times.   In the final verse, he trades lines with his backing singer, interspersing the bleak with the hopeful. 

"We've been traveling over rocky ground, rocky ground
There's a new day coming

We've been traveling over rocky ground, rocky ground
(I'm a soldier!)

We've been traveling over rocky ground, rocky ground
Oh, a new day's coming

We've been traveling over rocky ground, rocky ground
(I'm a soldier!)

We've been traveling over rocky ground, rocky ground
Oh, a new day's coming

We've been traveling over rocky ground, rocky ground
(I'm a soldier!)

We've been traveling over rocky ground, rocky ground
There's a new day coming

We've been traveling over rocky ground, rocky ground..."

It's testament to Bruce's trademark humility and magnetic, graveled voice that when he tells us things'll get better, we BELIEVE.  The mood of a nation distilled into perfect verse. 

 It also doesn't hurt that he's still a total hottie.  (Damn that groupie gene.)