Readers Poll: The Greatest Bruce Springsteen Songs

Last weekend we gave our readers the challenge of picking their single
favorite Bruce Springsteen song. It’s not an easy decision. Do you go for an
iconic song like “Born To Run,” or a slightly lesser known (but equally
brilliant) track like “Backstreets”? Do you pick a rocker like “Rostalita (Come
Out Tonight)” or a quiet, acoustic track like “Atlantic City”? Our readers went
for all of the above. Click through to see the winners.

By Andy Greene

10. ‘Racing In The Street’

The devastating loss of Clarence Clemons was clearly on the
minds of some voters as some of his greatest sax work is represented in the list
– which kicks off with 1978′s “Racing In The Street.” While the debate still
rages about whether you can put fuelie heads on a 1969 Chevy 396, the song
is a longtime fan favorite and contains some of the greatest keyboard/organ work
in the Springsteen catalog.

9. ‘Darkness on the Edge of Town’

The title track to 1978s Darkness On The Edge Of Town remains one of
Springsteen’s most powerful statements. He’s performed it solo acoustic, with
various incarnations of the E Street Band and even with the “Other Band” in
1992/93 – but for our money the definitive version was cut under two years ago
at Asbury Park’s Paramount Theater. Shortly after the Working On a Dream
Tour ended in late 2009, Springsteen and the members of the E Street Band
who played on the original (with Charlie Giordano subbing for the late Danny
Federici) convened at theater to play Darkness On the Edge of Town
straight through for a DVD shoot. It culminated with this fiery rendition of the
song. By the end, the veins in Bruce’s head seem to be on the verge of
exploding.

8. ‘Atlantic City’

In March of 1981, mob boss Philip “The Chicken Man” Testa was killed when a
nail bomb exploded under his front porch. He lived about an hour away from
Atlantic City, and owned a bar on the boardwalk where Donald Trump later built a
massive casino. The incident kicked off an incredibly bloody mob war, and
inspired Bruce Springsteen to wrote one of his most evocative songs. In early
drafts of the tune, when it was still called “Fistful of Dollars,” Springsteen
can be heard methodically shaping the tune until he settled on the final form.
It’s the highlight of his stellar 1982 disc Nebraska, though check out
Live In New York City for a amazing live take with the E Street Band.

7. ‘Backstreets’

Like most Bruce Springsteen songs, “Backstreets” is significantly better live
in concert. The tale of lost love wraps up side one of Born to Run, but
onstage it really popped. To many fans, the definitive versions are found on the
1978 tour. Bruce would typically slow the song down in the middle to deliver a
passionate “Sad Eyes” rap, which eventually evolved into 1980′s “Drive All
Night.”

6. ‘Badlands’

Almost no song in the Springsteen catalog gets a crowd riled up like
“Badlands.” The opening track to Darkness on the Edge of Town has a
drum intro so memorable that Best Coast swiped it for their 2010 song
“Girlfriend,” and it just gets more anthemic from there. Earlier this year,
Springsteen performed it in Boston with the Dropkick Murphys. The place went
absolutely insane.

5. ‘Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)’

“Rostalita (Come Out Tonight)” was the highlight of countless Springsteen
live shows during the E Street Band’s original incarnation between 1973 to 1988.
In the 1990s, Springsteen had enough and only played it on extremely special
occasions in New Jersey. In 1999, the reunited E Street Band played a 15-night
stand at Jersey’s Continental Airlines Arena. Most nights the fans held up signs
for “Rosalita,” but Springsteen didn’t budge until the very last night. “It’s
been a great gift being able to stand up here and make this music come alive and
to look out into your faces,” he told the crowd before the final song. “How
could I say thanks? I know there’s a way. I’m sure there’s a way. I haven’t seen
any of those stupid signs. So maybe just once . . .”  It would be another four
years before it became a regular part of the setlist again.

4. ‘The River’

When Bruce Springsteen’s sister Virginia was just 17 she became pregnant, and
wound up marrying her high school boyfriend. Their struggle inspired Springsteen
to write “The River,” about a couple in a similar situation. He debuted the song
in 1979 at the No Nukes concert at Madison Square Garden, and he dedicated the
song to his sister and brother-in-law. Twenty years later, he played the song on
the E Street Band’s reunion tour in a drastically slowed down, sax-heavy
arrangement – making it somehow even sadder. Check it out here.

3. ‘Jungleland’

In his book Big Man: Real Life & Tall Tales, Clarence Clemons
recalled the origins of the Born to Run album. “In the beginning, I
think Bruce was going for a rock opera kind of thing about this character called
Magic Rat,” Clemons wrote. “He had lots of songs and themes that were built
around this narrative he had in his head. Eventually he let that go.” The Magic
Rat did make it into the album’s epic closer “Jungleland,” which contains
Clarence’s most famous sax solo. In the summer of 2009, they played it at
London’s Hyde Park right as the sun was coming down. Check it out here.

2. ‘Born To Run’

In early 1974, Bruce Springsteen was listening to Duane Eddy’s 1960 hit
“Because They’re Young” when a similarly twangy, dramatic guitar riff came into
his head. It soon became the intro for the “exhilarating, orgasmic” new song the
struggling 24-year-old singer-songwriter was trying to create: He called it
“Born to Run.” “I had these enormous ambitions for it,” says Springsteen, now
56. “I wanted to make the greatest rock record that I’d ever heard, I wanted
it to sound enormous, to grab you by your throat and insist that you take that
ride, insist that you pay attention – not just to the music,
but to life, to being alive.” – Brian Hiatt

1. ‘Thunder Road’

When Bruce Springsteen arranged the track order on Born to Run, he
wanted the album to convey the sense of one long, sweaty day in New Jersey.
“There is something about the [piano] melody of Thunder Road’ that
suggests a new day,” Springsteen told Rolling Stone in 2005. “Which is
why that song ended up first on the record, instead of ‘Born To Run.’”
Springsteen spent months slowly tweaking the song before he cut it in the
studio, often playing those in-progress versions on the road. It was originally
called “Wings For Wheels,” but when he saw the poster for Robert Mitchum’s 1958
movie Thunder Road he knew he had a title.

Bruce Springsteen’s Eulogy for Clarence Clemons

‘Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die’

By Rolling Stone

June 29, 2011 1:35 PM ET

Bruce Springsteen has released the text of the eulogy that he delivered
at the funeral of Clarence Clemons on June 21st at Royal Poinciana Chapel in
Palm Beach, Florida. He also performed an acoustic version of “10th Avenue
Freeze-Out” and ended the ceremony by performing “You’re A Friend Of Mine” with
Jackson Browne and members of The E Street Band. “This is a slightly revised
version of the eulogy I delivered for Clarence at his memorial,” says
Springsteen. “I’d like to thank all our fans and friends who have comforted us
over the past difficult weeks.”

I’ve been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring
at that photo of the two of us right there.  It’s a picture of Scooter and The
Big Man, people who we were sometimes.  As you can see in this particular photo,
Clarence is admiring his muscles and I’m pretending to be nonchalant while
leaning upon him.  I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some
ways.

Those of us who shared Clarence’s life, shared with him his love and his
confusion.   Though “C” mellowed with age, he was always a wild and
unpredictable ride.  Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod
sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C’s qualities. I see
his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his
anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness.  But, as you boys
know your pop was a not a day at the beach.  “C” lived a life where he did what
he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may.
Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an
amazing mess.  This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend.
Clarence’s unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of
conditions.  Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress.   “C”
never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He
never went  A… B…. C…. D.  It was always A… J…. C…. Z… Q… I….!  That was the way
Clarence lived and made his way through the world.  I know that can lead to a
lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him,
and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.

Remembering
Clarence Clemons: His Life and Career in Photos

It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons.  Tina, I’m so glad you’re
here.  Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him.  Victoria, you’ve
been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference
in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of “C’s” vast
support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we
thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates.  My pal was a tough act
but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that
love light, it illuminated your world.  I was lucky enough to stand in that
light for almost 40 years, near Clarence’s heart, in the Temple of Soul.

So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled
together, we’d pull up to the evenings lodgings and within minutes “C” would
transform his room into a world of his own.  Out came the colored scarves to be
draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the
herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go,
and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic night, after night.
Clarence’s ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible.  By 69, he’d had a good
run, because he’d already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an
average man.  Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C’s
suitcase.  As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same
trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign
nation that had just struck huge oil reserves.  “C” always knew how to live.
Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in
the Big Man’s world.  I’d wander in from my dressing room, which contained
several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing
wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul;
and “C” presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures.  Being allowed
admittance to the Temple’s wonders was a lovely thing.

Jackson
Browne, Bob Weir, Tom Morello and More Pay Tribute to Clarence Clemons

As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man… no surprise.
To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic
storybook.  He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous
voice sugared with kindness and regard.  And… to Sammy, who was just a little
white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black.  In Sammy’s eyes, “C” must have
appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool,
rolled into one welcoming and loving figure.  So… Sammy decided to pass on my
work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence’s suits and his royal robes.  He
declined a seat in dad’s van and opted for “C’s” stretch limousine, sitting by
his side on the slow cruise to the show.  He decided dinner in front of the
hometown locker just wouldn’t do, and he’d saunter up the hall and disappear
into the Temple of Soul.

Of course, also enchanted was Sam’s dad, from the first time I saw my pal
striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening
up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my
partner, my lifelong friend.  Standing next to Clarence was like standing next
to the baddest ass on the planet.  You were proud, you were strong, you were
excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be
able to do.  You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing
was going to touch you.   Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power
and safety,  and in some funny way we became each other’s protectors; I think
perhaps I protected “C” from a world where it still wasn’t so easy to be big and
black.  Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it.
Clarence’s celebrity and size did not make him immune.  I think perhaps “C”
protected me from a world where it wasn’t always so easy to be an insecure,
weird and skinny white boy either.  But, standing together we were badass, on
any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet.  We were
united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we
were corny as hell and as serious as death itself.  And we were coming to your
town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story
about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I’d written in my
songs and in my music.  Clarence carried it in his heart.  It was a story where
the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass
and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our
friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that… that’s what I’m gonna miss.
The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis,
because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the
two of us.  Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and
dream big. How big was the Big Man?  Too fucking big to die.  And
that’s just the facts.  You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it
over your heart. Accept it… it’s the New World.

Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street Band when he dies.  He leaves
when we die.

So, I’ll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his
glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his
skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace.  But his love and his
story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed
me to tell… and that he gave to you… is gonna carry on.  I’m no mystic,
but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me
to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other
rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god’s
work… work that’s still unfinished.  So I won’t say goodbye to my brother, I’ll
simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once
again pick up that work, and get it done.

Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your
work, your story.  Thanks for the miracle… and for letting a little white boy
slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul.

SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN… ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST.  LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE
MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the
DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT
OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE’S DEAD… YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT
YOU CAN’T!   LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU’VE EVER SEEN!… GIVE ME
A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E.  WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE!
WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! … amen.

I’m gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he
shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour.  As
we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of
the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we’d shared, “C” sat quietly,
taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered,
“This could be the start of something big.”

Love you, “C”.

//

Springsteen and Clemons: Music’s Buddy Movie?

Praise for the interracial friendship between the two E Street Band members was excessive. Like bromance flicks, it was a substitute for relationships uncommon in real life.

By: Samuel G. Freedman|Posted: June 29, 2011 at 12:11 AM

When Bruce Springsteen introduced Clarence Clemons to audiences, he announced him with such titles as the Emperor, the King of the World, the Minister of Soul. As if to match the rhetoric, Clemons often adorned his 6-foot-4 frame in a gaudy three-piece suit and wide-brimmed fedora, flirting with the stereotypes of preacher and pimp.

The tableau of Springsteen, the scrawny white scamp, and Clemons, the great black guardian, made iconic in the cover photo of the Born to Run album, was a calculated pose. As much as the friendship between the two musicians was by all accounts deep and genuine, its presentation was two-dimensional. In the pop-music marketplace, the picture wasn’t photojournalism; it was the logo on a package, and that package ultimately became a brand.

But you would never guess at any of these complexities from the outpouring of eulogies after Clemons’ recent death from the complications of a stroke. The encomiums have gone beyond praise for his musicianship and stage presence in the E Street Band to tributes to him and Springsteen as the very model of transracial brotherhood.

“Clemons, Bruce Bridged Rock’s Racial Divide,” read the headline at newser.com. A writer at the Huffington Post said that Clemons’ impact on race relations for many Americans “will last a lifetime.” A New York Times op-ed columnist lifted up Clemons and Springsteen as “a cultural example of how the divide of race can come together over music.”

These garlands are true in ways their authors don’t understand, and false in ways they don’t recognize. The packaged image of Clemons and Springsteen barely hinted at the meaningful way they did connect, against a backdrop of race riots and white flight along the Jersey Shore in the 1960s and ’70s. The image alone, though, seemed to suffice for plenty of fans and critics. And let’s face it: All, or virtually all of them, are white. If there has been a testimonial to the Clemons-Springsteen bond by a black journalist these past weeks, I have missed it.

The reason is that Springsteen and Clemons were enacting a familiar trope: the buddy movie. From Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier in The Defiant Ones to Bill Cosby and Robert Culp in I Spy; to Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta in Pulp Fiction to Scott Bakula, Ray Romano and Andre Braugher in Men of a Certain Age, we have seen this show before. The entertainment industry, in all its well-meaning liberalism, supplies fictional versions of black-white fellowship to replace the dearth of it in real life.

However laudable their alliance, Springsteen and Clemons hardly offered the first example of interracial rock and roll. Sly Stone, Jimi Hendrix, Booker T. Jones, Carlos Santana and Prince all led mixed bands decades ago. What is different, I’d venture, is the fan base Springsteen reaches — one that is far whiter than those of the other groups, one that finds more novelty and idealism in the mere fact that there’s a black sideman onstage.

At the outset of the E Street Band, Clemons wasn’t even the sole (dare one say, token) black. The group also included another African American, David Sancious, on keyboards, and a Latino, Vini Lopez, on drums. Sancious left, Lopez was replaced and Springsteen’s music after Born to Run veered from the ethnically mongrel influences of soul, pop and even jazz to folk rock inspired by Woody Guthrie. One of Springsteen’s masterpieces, “The Rising,” drew on Celtic and Sufi sounds.

All along the way, Springsteen’s most important alter ego and collaborator in the band was Steven Van Zandt, something that was apparent in last year’s HBO documentary about the making of Darkness on the Edge of Town. No wonder Clemons had less of a role, on recordings or in concert, as the years went by.

I say all this, by the way, as a longtime Springsteen fan who first saw him live in 1976 and who owns most of the catalog. But as a native New Jerseyan, I also have a sense of the backstory of Springsteen and Clemons, the part that really does endow their friendship with meaning.

Both Springsteen’s hometown of Freehold and his musical base of Asbury Park endured racial violence. Asbury Park went into a steep decline thereafter, going from a shore resort to a slum by the sea. Springsteen knowingly describes these ravages in such songs as “My Hometown” and “My City of Ruins,” and the author Kevin Coyne, a Freehold native, writes trenchantly about them in his book Marching Home.

But a couple of honking tenor solos and some onstage shtick, the routine that Springsteen and Clemons trotted out for arena crowds, are no substitute for the tough subtleties of ordinary existence. Nor are they meant to be. Entertainment has no requirement to be social realism, except, I suppose, in the old USSR. In his own political activism, Springsteen has emphasized individual action and personal engagement rather than the passive and self-satisfied reliance on symbols.

So in memory of Clarence Clemons, it’s completely right to listen to “Spirit in the Night” or “Jungleland” or “Mary’s Place.” It’s entirely appropriate to get sentimental about concerts when Clemons, and we, were young. And there the legitimate mourning should end. Bruce Springsteen lost a friend, and that is a tragedy. The rest of us white folk lost an illusion, a proxy, a friendship that we experienced only from a nonthreatening distance, and that is a lesson.

Samuel G. Freedman, a journalism professor at Columbia University, is the author of six books, including Upon This Rock: The Miracles of a Black Church. He is currently writing a book about football and civil rights at two HBCUs in the 1960s.

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Gary Levone Anderson was born in Jacksonville, Florida, in 1939. He adopted the professional name, U.S. Bonds, but quickly changed it to Gary U.S. Bonds as fans thought the name represented a group and not an individual.

While he was considered a rhythm & blues artist, many of his biggest hits moved over into a pure rock ‘n’ roll style and sound. He would produce five top ten hits (1960-1962). Songs such as “New Orleans,” “School Is In,” and “Dear Lady Twist” were all blasts of pre-Beatles rock ‘n’ roll. It really didn’t get much better than Gary U.S. Bonds during the early 1960s.

His biggest hit was “Quarter To Three,” which was released during the spring of 1961. It had a doo-wop beginning, a honking saxophone foundation, and a rock ‘n’ roll center.

“Quarter To Three” reached the number one position on the Billboard Magazine Pop Singles Chart 50 years ago this week, and remained there for two weeks. It was the only chart topper of his career. The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame named it as one of the 500 Songs That Shaped Rock ‘n’ Roll. The song made him a star in the United States and Europe and during his European tour The Beatles served as one of his supporting acts.

During the early phase of Bruce Springsteen’s career, he would regularly use the song as a part of his stage act encore. He would remember Gary U.S. Bonds when he became famous. He and his sidekick, Little Steven, produced and played on his 1981 comeback album, Dedication. Springsteen wrote three of the songs including the hit, “This Little Girl.” A year later Bonds and Springsteen produced On The Line, which included seven more Springsteen compositions and another hit, “Out Of Work.”

Gary U.S. Bonds has released two new studio albums during the last seven years and continues to tour on a regular basis. “Quarter To Three” remains a centerpiece of his concert act and 50 years ago this week it topped the music world.

Read more: http://www.seattlepi.com/lifestyle/blogcritics/article/Quarter-To-Three-Was-Number-One-A-Half-Century-1444670.php#ixzz1QdFsSSSN

After Clarence Clemons’ Death, What’s Next For The E Street Band?

By Jay Lustig/The Star-LedgerThe Star-Ledger Follow

The E Street Band at the last show ever at Giants Stadium, in October 2009

After Clarence Clemons died and fans got over their initial shock, one of the first questions they asked, to themselves and to other fans, was, “Will the E Street Band continue?”

Now, though, the question is more like: “How will the E Street Band continue?”

In a statement posted on his website after Clemons’ June 18 death, Bruce Springsteen indicated that he thought the band had a future, writing that “with Clarence at my side, my band and I were able to tell a story far deeper than those simply contained in our music. His life, his memory, and his love will live on in that story and in our band.”

On Sunday, E Streeter Steven Van Zandt also looked to the band’s future on his syndicated radio show “Underground Garage,” discussing the strong bond among band members and then saying: “We will continue to make music and perform. Let’s face it, that’s all we really know how to do. But it will be very different without him.”

How will the band do it? Springsteen hasn’t said, so all we can do is speculate. But here are some thoughts on the subject.

When keyboardist Danny Federici — like Clemons, an original E Street Band member — died in 2008, the band segued smoothly to its next phase. But that was a totally different scenario. Federici had been suffering from melanoma for awhile, and the undeniably capable Charles Giordano had already been filling in for him on tour. After Federici’s death, Giordano simply stayed on.

Clemons’ shoes are harder to fill. While Federici was one of the architects of the E Street sound, he did not play a big role in the band’s stage show. Clemons, though, was right up front, taking solos (though, admittedly, fewer and fewer as the years went on) and acting as a kind of Springsteen sidekick.

Van Zandt, on Sunday, called Clemons the band’s “second member,” and I don’t think he meant chronologically. He meant that Clemons was the second most important guy (Springsteen always fed into that idea, too, by introducing Clemons last at shows). As has been mentioned countless times since Clemons’ death, it was he — and no other E Streeter — that Springsteen chose to pose with on the cover of his “Born to Run” album. And Clemons’ booming saxophone was a big part of the E Street sound, from “Spirit in the Night” (from Springsteen’s first album, “Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J.”) to “This Life” (from his most recent one, “Working on a Dream”).

The symbolism of Clemons just being there, onstage, was powerful: Here were Springsteen and his cherished friend, still together after so many years, so many tours. Another musician can play Clemons’ parts, but that can never be replaced.

So what can Springsteen do?

The most straightforward solution — hire another sax player — is also the most problematic. Another musician can never offer the resonance that Clemons did, just by showing up.

Some fans have brought up the prospect of Clemons’ nephew — Jake Clemons, who plays sax as well as guitar — stepping into the role. Of course, drummer Jay Weinberg, Max Weinberg’s son, filled in for his father for portions of the 2009 “Working on a Dream” tour, and that worked out well. So that’s one possibility — and one that would at least offer some sentimental uplift.

But there are other ways to go, too.

Springsteen could avoid songs that are sax-heavy, or rearrange them so that they don’t need sax. That was his strategy, more or less, on the 1992-93 band tour he did without Clemons and most of the other E Streeters. He did have a multi-instrumentalist in the band, Crystal Taliefero, who could play sax. But she didn’t play it much.

He could add a full horn section, not just a sax, so that the horn parts could be spread around. This would at least take some of the pressure off the new sax player.

He could really shuffle things up, with various E Streeters playing in several different combinations — electric, acoustic, semi-acoustic — at different points in the show, and the songs getting drastic reinterpretations. I really like this solution: I’m always eager to hear Springsteen reworking things instead of just cranking out songs such as “Badlands” and “The Rising” — great as they are — the same way they’ve always been played.

And Springsteen might have been thinking along these lines before the start of his 2005 solo tour; he reportedly rehearsed with a stripped-down band featuring Federici, guitarist Nils Lofgren, violinist Soozie Tyrell and drummer Steve Jordan before deciding to do the tour solo.

I have my doubts, though, that Springsteen would do something so radical,
especially for an arena/stadium tour.

Certainly, no matter what happens, there will be warm words about Clemons on any future E Street tour, and maybe a video tribute or something along those lines.
It would be great if his sax could be onstage, too, whenever and wherever the E Street Band plays, as a three-dimensional representation of the idea that — as Van Zandt said on Sunday — “The heart of us, Clarence and Danny, will always be there, stage right.”
Jay Lustig: (973) 392-5850 or jlustig@starledger.com

No Glory Days For Sirius XM Radio Covering Clarence Clemons’ Death

BY David  Hinckley
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER

Tuesday, June 28th 2011,   4:00 AM

Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/tv/2011/06/28/2011-06-28_no_glory_days_for_sirius_covering_clemons_death.html#ixzz1QZIyHLmP

Dale Guldan/AP Clarence Clemons and Bruce Springsteen perform in 2002.

The death of Bruce  Springsteen‘s saxophone player Clarence  Clemons last week provided an interesting snapshot of how quickly satellite  and over-the-air radio can react to news that jolts their listeners.

The death of a well-known musician has traditionally been radio’s moment. A  smart station immediately has the hosts play the music, talk about it, take  phone calls and become the place where fans can gather and begin to light their  figurative candles.

That famously happened on the late WNEW-FM when John  Lennon was killed. It happened on WQHT after the deaths of Biggie Smalls and Tupac Shakur, and on  WKTU, WBLS and WRKS when Michael  Jackson died.

Sirius/XM satellite, in theory, was perfectly positioned to be the go-to  station for Clemons fans, because it has a full-time Springsteen channel, E  Street Radio.

But like almost all satellite channels, E Street Radio doesn’t have regular  live hosts. They’re too expensive for the satellite business model, and  satellite has always figured listeners mostly just want the music anyhow.

So after Clemons died, Sirius/XM got a short commentary from Dave Marsh, who hosts a  weekly show (Friday, 10:30 a.m.). It taped Marsh announcing he would do an  extended live edition of his show Sunday night, about 24 hours later.

E Street Radio played that announcement alongside its regular Bruce music, so  Clarence was acknowledged. It just didn’t feel like a live gathering.

On classic rock WAXQ (104.3 FM), it did. The station didn’t go wall-to-wall  Springsteen music, but it played a lot of Bruce songs, particularly those that  featured Clemons. Hosts talked about Clarence and took listener calls.

Ken Dashow talked about Clarence on his Sunday morning Beatles show,  underscoring that sometimes it’s important to know when to break the rules.

Marsh did a good show Sunday. But even though satellite started with an edge,  WAXQ played the radio role better.

Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/tv/2011/06/28/2011-06-28_no_glory_days_for_sirius_covering_clemons_death.html#ixzz1QZIc48Vd

Steven Van Zandt: ‘We Will Continue to Make Music and Perform’

By Jay Lustig/The Star-LedgerThe Star-Ledger

For those wondering if the death of Clarence Clemons will mean the end of the E Street Band: Steven Van Zandt doesn’t seem to think so. In a moving and eloquent tribute to Clemons on his syndicated radio show, Underground Garage, Van Zandt, after talking about the bond that the musicians of any great band have with each other, said: “We will continue to make music and perform. Let’s face it, that’s all we really know how to do. But it will be very different without him.”

Here is some of what he said:

“Rock ‘n’ roll has lost an irreplaceable performer. The E Street Band has lost its second member. And, personally, I have lost a lifelong friend and brother. Rock ‘n’ roll historians will discuss in great detail and lengthy discourse the profound racial implications and effect of a white rock band in the early ’70s having a black man with such a strong featured presence as well as the unmistakeable and dangerously unfashionable … more than just a nod, but marriageto tradition, by the inclusion of, to many, the embarrassingly and hopelessly anachronistic saxophone. It was a time of reaching for the future. Glam had started. And yet Bruce Springsteen decided to keep a firm grasp of the past, as he looked ahead. Commercial suicide for anyone less talented than he.”Band members have a special bond. A great band is more than just some people working together. It’s like a highly specialized army unit, or a winning sports team. A unique combination of elements that becomes stronger together than apart. We become a part of each other and experience marvelous, miraculous moments in life that only we truly share. We will continue to make music and perform. Let’s face it, that’s all we really know how to do. But it will be very different without him. Just as it’s been different without Danny (Federici), our first lost comrade.

“The quality of our lives is diminished every time we lose a great artist. It’s a different world without Sam Cooke, Otis Redding, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Curtis Mayfield, Brian Jones and the rest. But like all of them, Clarence leaves us his work, which will continue to inspire us and motivate us, and future generations, forever. Rock ‘n’ roll is our religion, and we will continue to lose disciples as we go, but we pick up the fallen flag and keep moving forward, bringing forth the good news that our heroes have helped create, their bodies lost, but their spirits and their good work everlasting.

“And for the E Street Band, the heart of us, Clarence and Danny, will always be there, stage right. So thank you, Clarence. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. But I’ll see you again, soon enough. Thank you for blowing life-changing energy and hope into this miserable world with your big, beautiful lungs. And thank you for sharing a piece of that big heart nightly with the world. It needs it. You and that magnificent saxophone, celebrating, confessing, seeking redemption and providing salvation all at once. Speaking wordlessly, but so eloquently, with that pure sound you made. The sound of life itself.”

My 15 Minutes In Spotlight With The Big Man

By Andy Sedlak, Staff Writer
10:49 PM Saturday, June 25, 2011
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a column by education reporter Andy Sedlak who in college had the opportunity to interview the late Clarence Clemons, known as the Big Man. He was the larger-than-life saxophone player for Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band.

MIDDLETOWN — For about 15 minutes — roughly 900 seconds — Clarence Clemons and I worked together professionally.

My mind whipped back to that time when I heard the Big Man — iconic saxman in Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band — died June 18 at the age of 69 after suffering a major stroke a week earlier.

It was 2008 and I was a sophomore at Wright State University. Like most of my father’s generation, I grew up a Springsteen fan and my sole ambition that year was to arrange a 15-minute phone interview with Clemons to air on my weekly college radio show.

I convinced his manager that an interview with Wright State’s radio station would reach the entire Dayton metropolitan area and its surrounding communities. In reality, our signal barely stretched past the faculty parking lot.

Luckily, Clarence had just released an under-promoted album as a side project with a band called Temple of Soul. He needed exposure.

I was his man.

So Clemons agreed under the condition I would not talk about the E Street Band. I was told he does E Street interviews and “Clarence Clemons” interviews.

The day of the interview I’m in the studio and my cell phone rings — private number. I pick up.

“It’s the Big Man, baby, and I’m knockin’ at your back door!” Clemons said in his booming voice.

Clemons was 66 at the time: “You know Andy, I’m not as young as I used to be but in my heart and my spirit I’m a lot younger than I’ve ever felt before.”

“You’re a darn young man,” I told him. “You sound younger than me — and I’m 20 years old.”

“How old are you?” Clarence asked.

“Twenty.”

“God. I’ve got socks older than you.”

We laughed.

He told me he had recently gotten engaged to a woman from Russia. The two were married shortly after.

“I’m a happy man, and when you’re a happy man everything in the universe comes to you happy,” he said. “I’m attracted to happiness right now so stay close to me, baby — and it’ll rub off on you.”

It’s something I think about every day.

Way before the interview — when I was in fifth grade — I played saxophone in the school band. I worked my way up to first chair but quit after a year because music notation is boring and the girls weren’t noticing.

But while I was still gung-ho, I remember my mother asking me — in the most motherly way possible — if I was going to become the next Clarence Clemons.

No mom, not me.

Not anyone.

Jeremiah Tucker: Clemons’ Contributions Understood Too Late

By Jeremiah TuckerGlobe Columnist The Joplin Globe

JOPLIN, Mo. — I feel unreasonably guilty for the death of the famous saxophonist from Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band.

I know I bear no responsibility of Clarence Clemons’ stroke June 12 and his death six days later, but I find it eerie that my column last week was about the resurgence of the sax in popular music based in part on Clemons’ solo on Lady Gaga’s hit single “The Edge of Glory.” At the time I wrote it, I didn’t even know Clemons had suffered a stroke.

Clemons, who is prominently featured in “The Edge of Glory” video released a few days before his death, was simultaneously crucial to Springsteen’s sound, and one of the primary reasons I didn’t like the Boss when I was younger. Something about the sax Ñ its brassiness, the way it would burst into a song like the Kool-Aid man Ñ made me think the music was corny.

(It probably didn’t help that as a teenager I loved Adam Sandler’s hilarious impersonation of Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” on “Saturday Night Live,” which kept cuting to a one-second clip of Clemons goofily clapping his hands in concert.)

The first Springsteen album I ever really liked was the spare and haunting “Nebraska,” which was recorded without Clemons and the rest of the E Street Band.

Over the last few years, however, my admiration of the “Born to Run”-through-“Tunnel of Love” stretch has grown exponentially. What changed is I realized that Springsteen always put his music’s emphasis on an emotional state, a decision that allowed his best songs to unspool cinematically.

Most artists who strive for emotion in their work rely on intuition Ñ “just feeling it” Ñ but Springsteen did so through meticulousness, craft and employing a large, technically gifted band who could give his rock ’n’ roll songs weight. At their best, Clemons’ solos translated the loneliness or joy that lay at the heart of the song.

Honestly, I still think Clemons’ sax solos are fundamentally corny, but that’s only because I tend to find any kind of unguarded sincerity corny. And, man, Springsteen’s music is nothing if not deadly sincere Ñ in a breathtaking, totally awesome way.

Before I’d read that Clemons died Saturday, I’d already been playing Side 2 of “Born in the U.S.A.,” Springsteen’s biggest commercial success. I hadn’t listened to it in awhile Ñ normally reaching for “Born to Run” or “Darkness on the Edge of Town” instead Ñ but if you want to blow the roof off a summer night, throw on Side 2 of that record: “No Surrender,” “Bobby Jean,” “I’m Goin’ Down,” “Glory Days,” “Dancing in the Dark” and “My Hometown.”

Forget about it! So good.

And Clemons is all over those songs. (I especially like his solo on “Bobby Jean.”) His passing seems especially sad considering 2011 could’ve been his biggest year in decades, but at least it looks like we’ll be hearing him most of the summer with “The Edge of Glory” continuing to climb the charts.

Hopefully, someone is keeping an eye on Tim Capello and Lenny Pickett. We can only afford to lose so many rock ’n’ roll saxophonists before the entire species is extinct.

‘Big Man’ Clarence Clemons Leaves Bigger Legacy

Clarence Clemons was a man of many talents.

Yet, fileting fish is one not usually associated with the Big Man.

Clarence Clemons, the longtime saxophonist for Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, died Saturday. / The Associated Press file photo

“We would go on the jetty and I’d catch fluke,” said former E Street Band drummer Vini Lopez of his time sharing a house with Clemons and Danny Federici in Long Branch in the early ’70s. “Clarence’s parents owned a fish market in Virginia and we brought (the fish) home and he cleaned them and cooked them and they were really good. He was a really good chef and we’d sit back and watch ‘Star Trek’ and we were just home. We were home.”

Clemons, the man whose saxophone solos exquisitely framed the songs of Bruce Springsteen, died Saturday night in Florida from complications of a stroke he suffered June 12.

He was 69.

“It was like being on stage with a living legend,” said Jay Weinberg of performing with Clemons. Weinberg is a fill-in drummer for the E Street Band and son of full-time drummer Max Weinberg. “It definitely had an affect on me. It was like looking at an icon.”

Clemons, a Virginia native, was certainly larger than life at 6 feet 6 inches tall and more than 250 pounds. Before music stardom, Clemons worked at the State Home for Boys in Monroe (also known as the Jamesburg Reform School) as a counselor and played semi-pro football on the side. A car accident ended his hopes of playing in the NFL and he turned his attention to a career with his saxophone, playing in Asbury Park bands like the Chosen Few and the Joyful Noyze.

He joined the E Street Band in 1972 and brought the group a shot of old-time rock ‘n’ roll, along with a good helping of soulful R&B, whether by accents, undertones or his riveting solos. Onstage, he served as the Boss’ perfect foil and was often included in Springsteen’s onstage banter.

In addition to being a great musician, Clemons always had the sense of what worked on stage.

“He’s four times as big as me — he was four times as big as anybody — and we worked on a routine where we did the cape bit like James Brown,” said Asbury Park native Danny DeVito of working with Clemons for a benefit show. “We were choreographing it and deciding who would put the cape on who. It was quite a scene.”

Clemons had that indefinable star quality.

“I didn’t know him from Asbury Park because I had left to go to New York and do acting, but I met him later and his spirit lifted everyone around him up,” DeVito said . “He was incredible and as the Boss says, the change was made when the Big Man joined the band. He gave us a warm, wonderful feeling with that sound. I’m going to miss him.”

The Springsteen-Clemons union was statement of friendship and bonding set against the racially sensitive post-riots period of the 1970s. The teaming suggested a striving for a broader unity, of a true love among the races.

Yet, it was different for Springsteen and Clemons.

“We never looked at it like that,” said Clemons in a 2009 interview. “I never looked at it like him being white or me being black — we transgressed the color line just because of the respect and friendship and love of doing what was most important to us.”

“We were having a great time turning people on to what it’s like to be a rock ‘n’ roller.”

Millions were indeed turned on, including Gov. Chris Christie.

“Clarence Clemons represented the soul and spirit of New Jersey,” said Christie in a statement. “His partnership with Bruce Springsteen and the rest of the E Street Band brought great pride to our state and joy to every fan of this music around the world.”

The Big Man’s legacy will live on, Springsteen said.

“He was my great friend, my partner, and with Clarence at my side, my band and I were able to tell a story far deeper than those simply contained in our music,” said Springsteen on his website Saturday night. “His life, his memory, and his love will live on in that story and in our band.”