Across the River on the Jersey Side

Yes, another one. I've lost count of how many Springsteen concerts I've been to at this point, particularly in the last few months. Hopefully this won't be the last one before the E Street Band takes a reported two-year break -- a show in Madison Square Garden in November has caught my eye.

The show on Saturday night, as expected, was terrific. New Jersey shows reputedly have an added buzz and energy. This is, after all, the Boss's hometown, and he has sold out something like 38 straight shows there, including 10 in one marathon two-week stretch.

I'd been in the state of New Jersey a couple of times before -- once sober, once very decidedly not and sort of by accident. ("Why are we in the Lincoln Tunnel?" is something I remember asking in a sort of panic whilst in the cab).

New Jersey is nice like an old frat house is nice. That is to say, not really, but it has a certain charm and character that at least merit interested observation. Most of what I saw in Jersey consisted of Marc pointing out the various industrial sites and their attendant swamps. There is, incredibly, a great variety of swamps -- a biosphere botanists would undoubtedly find fascinating if they overcame their bodies' natural instincts and actually ventured into the oddly luminous waters.

And hey, you know what? It actually was nice, and I very much look forward to future site visits to Atlantic City and the Jersey Shore. Perhaps in eight months, when I lose hope and need to do a little favor for someone like the Chicken Man.

To return to the concert. We did this one right, which meant tailgating and lots of it. Beer, burgers, hot dogs, and even birthday cake obtained from the very nice couple parked next to us. It was their daughter's birthday and they had more cake than they could eat -- a problem I'm always happy to solve.

The show itself was terrific. Bruce is on a let's-play-entire-albums on the stage kick, and we got the Born in the USA show. This, of course, includes the title track -- my entrance song in my on-again, off-again career in illegal basement boxing. I wish I was kidding.

"I'm on Fire" and "Long Walk Home" were stand-outs. The 15-minute "Kitty's Back" was especially awesome, showcasing each member of the band in a solo -- an arrangement of which Roy Bittan took advantage on the piano to go absolutely insane.

But the highlight of the night was undoubtedly "Jersey Girl" -- This is a Tom Waits original, but by now Bruce has made it his. By far the most popular request of the night, it was a sight to behold:



I'd also be remiss if I didn't say hello to a new friend of ours. We had general admission tickets, and wound up standing next to a little fella, somewhat into the middle of his age, with enormous glasses and a thick cashmere sweater, standing all of five feet nothing and looking as excited as someone in a financial accounting class. He appeared to have come alone. Occasionally he seemed to remember he was at a rock concert and bobbed his head not-quite-to-the-rhythm ever so slightly. For the most part, however, he chose to stand stock still with his arms either folded across his chest or deep in his pockets.

So here's to you, Rick Moranis! Perhaps we will meet again someday at another concert and again you will fail to notice Marc and Cooper singing into each one of your ears and dancing perilously close to your person. Hell, you might even smile. After some Parcheesi and some brie at room temperature, if you start dancing, maybe other people will join in. Until next time.