A frontman in his own right, Nils has been happy to play sideman — and secret weapon — for several rock ‘n roll greats.

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Most interactions that occur between fan and Rock star last maybe 1, or 2 minutes. Occasionally, some fans get lucky enough to have a longer period talking with an artist whom they love, with maybe even enough time for a photo or two, too. In those moments, the fortunate fan is elated to a level similar to, or even greater than, the actual experience which makes them a fan to begin with… In either case, meeting an idol, an inspiration, or personal rock ‘n roll role-model is an unusual and rare joy. I got lucky once, when I was invited to meet Stevie Van Zandt in New Jersey. However, despite my big dream that one day I might meet Bruce, I figured that my luck where meeting the musicians who give my life the greatest soundtrack was concerned, was spent.

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With that in mind, as I stumbled through the revolving glass doors of Oslo Gardermoen, into the clean, crisp air of Scandinavia, I had no idea of what was to come.

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Standing beneath the formidable, yet soothingly Scandinavian styled overpass outside the entrance to Arrivals, and waiting for my Norwegian Springsteen fan, turned friend, Mari, to collect me, I felt like I was just waking up after a deep – and rather dark – winter hibernation. The last time I had seen my favourite man with my favourite band, had been some 7 months before, on a string of cool summer’s nights in New Jersey. When I left my last show – the famous Birthday show which posed the potential for Bruce to receive ‘a lightning bolt up [his] ass’ – I couldn’t have anticipated that it would be so long until my next concert. As a ‘hardcore’ Springsteen fan, I live in a constant state of denial… a both chronic and acute refusal to accept that the last show of a Tour leg has passed. Maybe it would be Minnesota, or California… Kentucky or even Nebraska, I was surely going to see them again…

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No. Such. Luck. One very long, and very torturous, 7 month wait later, and here I was – in Oslo.

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While the Americans are stereotypically loud, gun-carrying, pick up driving, red necks, and Brits are all friends of the Queen who drink tea and have very bad teeth, the Scandinavian stereotype – characterised by wealthy, tall, blonde haired and blue eyed people, styled with a sophistication synonymous with Borgen’s Birgitte Nyborg – is scarily accurate. Back in the UK, and U.S, I am used to being at least half a head higher than most other concert goers, owed to me by my 6ft 3 frame. In Oslo, I was merely slightly above average. Driving through the mean streets of Oslo towards the Telenor Arena, and via a gorgeous area known as Bygdøy – where I hope to one day live as a rich & successful Scottish writer in exile (a guy can dream) – where I took a moment to absorb the sheer beauty of the Norwegian capital’s landscape, the Scandinavian stereotype continued to ring true. In times of austerity and job cuts across Europe, Oslo is enjoying the continued effects of an oil- rich economy refusing any invites to cease booming. The once tranquil harbour is now crane-city, erecting towers reaching high into the blue skies over Oslo. Despite this, however, Oslo (or Ooohsshhl-o as it’s pronounced) still has the feel of a vibrant, cosmopolitan, metro-utopia.

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Arriving at the Telenor Arena, music was playing and the usual sight of small pop-up tents, home to – already – straggly concert goers, surrounded the all-important list. After meeting another Norwegian Bruce fan & friend, Nilei, Pit Queuer Number 1, Hans, assigned us our numbers. 37.

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3 nights later, and one of the most magical experiences of my life. The weather was cold. So cold that between roll-calls we embraced one last snow flurry – a reminder that, indeed, we were far up North. As we were frisk searched at the barriers, the first view of Oslo’s Telenor Arena – and the much important E Street stage – came into sight. Whereas in Barcelona last year, I found myself encouraged to run the length of the Olympic Stadium, reaching our spots in front of Bruce’s stage in Oslo was a thoroughly different affair. A brisk walk, at most, security encouraged us to be calm, and slow. Nearly 4 days of queueing, and we had our spots. Front and centre, baby!

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As we sat and waited for the legendary E Street Band to remind us that “it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive”, screaming erupted throughout the 200 or so people in the pit. As everyone ran, I jumped up – and, as I was at the front, on the barrier – simply turned around to see a grey t-shirt clad Bruce Springsteen, standing on the stage in front of me. He took a stroll around the pit, pointing at people, smiling at his fans, and commenting on those he recognised. As he made his way past me, Bruce’s warm brown eyes stared into mine, and gently under his voice he said “I remember you”. My eyes closed as my heart was lifted on up high. When I opened them, Bruce was standing with a black acoustic guitar… Ready to take requests.

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Heaven.

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With gentle force and to the faces of 200 welled up fans, Bruce tore into ‘This Hard Land’, ‘All That Heaven Will Allow’, and despite a ‘broken piano’, ‘The Fever’ (solo acoustic guitar), before finishing with ‘Growin’ Up’… As he stood in front of me on the mini-stage and sang to the hardcore fans who Springsteen dubbed as having “no life”, we all stood together and sang… From chanting

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He’s got the fever, oh he’s got the fever
Nothing a po’ boy can do
When he’s got the fever for a girl
He’s got the fever, oh he’s got the fever
Left this little boy blue

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… to the chorus of ‘Growin’ Up’

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And I swear I found the key to the universe in the engine of an old parked car
I hid in the mother breast of the crowd, when they said “pull down” I pulled up
Ooh, ooh, growin’ up
Ooh, ooh, growin’ up
Hoohoo

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As Bruce encouraged the crowd to sing higher and higher, louder and louder, the whole Arena echoed with the elated crowds of fans who were as close to heaven as is possible. If the E Street Band wasn’t as important as they are to us, then we wouldn’t have waited out in the cold for 4 (and in some cases 6) days to see them. Bruce recognised that, and paid thanks in the most special way. It’s one thing to turn up and rock a stadium, and quite another to make a few hundred people feel as though we were in the front room of the Springsteens, being treated to a private concert. As Bruce left the stage and smiled, telling us he’d be back in an “hour or two”, we all smiled and asked the same question - “did that really just happen?!”.

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It did.

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When Springsteen returned later in the evening, followed by his Band, the crowd roared with musical ecstasy. The spot next to Bruce was empty, and as he beamed down the microphone to the faces of over 25,000 people, he asked “where is Steven?!”, smiling and nodding his head as though teasing a puppy, he continued “Steven has been missing, for many shows now!”, and to laughing cheers added “he was kidnapped by Norway! This is a special night, he is back with us tonight!”, before beckoning Stevie onto the stage… Introducing him by his character name from ‘Lilyhammer’, Bruce had one thing right – the night was going to be very special indeed.

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“Professore…”

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Night 1 began.

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Handing the centre mic back over to Bruce, the Band came alive all over again. ‘Two Hearts’ opened, to the jubilant crowd. My 11th concert of the Wrecking Ball Tour, and this show emphasised Bruce and Stevie’s chemistry best. We were bearing witness to the reunion of two best friends. Their song told us that, their smiles told us that, and the crowd’s reaction told us that too. As the Band powered into No Surrender, Nils pointed at my friend Nilei and I, and gave us the first of many winks.

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The night before, while huddled against the cold wet wind and taking – yet another – roll call, we became alerted via twitter that the great Nils Lofgren, and his wife Amy, were checking out a bar in downtown Oslo. With a couple of hours to kill, and a cheeky desire to maybe catch a glimpse of one of the world’s greatest guitarists, Nilei and I headed out on the Number 31 bus. Like my stage dance last year, there was a noticeable contrast between the thought of executing such a plan, and realising it. When I appeared on stage for Nils’ 61st birthday last year, there was a ‘holy shit!’ moment when it occurred to me that I was on stage in front of 55,000 people under the premise that I could dance. That feeling returned when, standing at the same bar as Bruce Springsteen’s second guitarist, it occurred to me just what we were doing. Trying to be as polite as possible, Nilei and I crept up on Nils and his wife and introduced ourselves – expecting maybe 2 minutes and a quick photo.

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At first, Nils let his wife Amy do most of the talking. We listened to her enthusiastic welcome, aware of how surreal it was to be standing next to “the great Nils Lofgren”. With butterflies in my stomach and a lump in my throat, I introduced myself to Nils as Nilei and Amy got on like a house on fire. To this day I don’t know how it happened, but after only a couple of minutes we were in the thick of conversation. I mentioned how I was a fan of Neil Young, and how on a 4,600 road-trip ‘between Bruce shows’ last September, I heard ‘Albuquerque’ for the first time, in Albuquerque. Nils smiled when I mentioned how I drew the connection, when on ‘Tonight’s the Night’, Neil Young calls his name. Nils and Amy were quick to show Nilei and I photos from a few months ago when Young and a mutual friend visited their home, driving an eco-car which runs on waste. Nils recommended Clive Cussler as a man to check out, in a continuing effort to understand climate change. We discussed everything from love and life, to music, the E Street Band, loss, Clarence & Danny, concert preparation, and even how at 61 Nils manages to perform for over 3 hours without needing the loo, which Amy dubbed ‘toilet talk’. As we laughed, we also discussed the similarities in our lives. Nils was genuinely interested, and also sad, to hear about my Father, though intrigued by his own story as a musician. He told me about his moments “in the dark”, with Clarence and Danny, and how they honour their memory by playing the music which brought them together. Lofgren’s stance on his place alongside Bruce was also massively interesting. I had thought that it would be a hard task to stand on stage without two of his friends and fellow band-mates, but stoically Nils talked about his job as simply to do what The Boss, Bruce, needs him to do. We talked about the intangible nature of music, and how Nils started off playing classical accordion, for 2 years, and how it was through music that he found a voice – similar to how his music, along with E Street, gave me and fellow fans a voice, too. I couldn’t help but ask Nils about my favourite of all his songs, ‘Man In The Moon’, and I asked if perhaps he’d return to my hometown as he did in 2009, to which Amy enthusiastically encouraged me to contact the Concert Hall here and get the ball rolling. Throughout the whole hour we spent chatting, not once did it feel like I was standing face to face with one of the world’s most talented musicians, rather another normal guy sharing a drink in a bar. After all, the Lofgrens did fly commercial over to Europe.

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As the time ticked away, occasionally it dawned on me that surely at some point the conversation would quieten and that would be our cue to leave, but it didn’t. I carried on listening to Nils and Amy intently, as they revealed wonderful truths that I might never have otherwise learned, and responded to comments which Nilei and I made. I was staggered at how generous they were, both with their time and their honesty.

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Throughout my conversation with Nils, from the tender subject of death, to the question of age and continued learning, the one word which kept being repeated was evolution.

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That was the biggest lesson I learned during that hour – the lesson of evolution; that every experience we have, and every moment we spend here – whether it be smiling or hurting – is just another small part of our evolution. Our physical evolution, our emotional evolution, and our spiritual evolution. As Nils said to me – he was once at 0 himself, and when commenting on my writing he agreed that I should never aim for literary perfection, but continue my conquest to tell the truth. And that, he said, is what makes us equal…

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After taking a few photos with us, and commenting on how if the fact that we had been in line for 3 days wasn’t crazy enough, the Swede’s had already started lining for a concert 5 days away, Nils gave Nilei a copy of his newest album, ‘Old School’. Delving his hands deep into his pockets, he then selected the holy grail of music-related gifts – a guitar pic which he has used on stage with the E Street Band. Signing it ‘Nils’, he gave me his pic and that concluded our evening. Nilei and I walked alongside Nils and Amy, to the front door. Bidding him ‘happy rocking’, they went right, and we went left – our hearts filled, and our minds endowed with memories to last a lifetime. Again the question was asked – “did that really just happen?!”.

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Evolution

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As the mighty E Street Band began their mission to bring the power, hour after hour to Oslo, I found myself looking back into Nils’ eyes, and returned the gesture which he made Nilei and I. As the concert progressed, so too do its special nature. With 14 Wrecking Ball shows under my belt, I have been pretty spoiled by setlists. I’ve heard Jungleland 3 times, and my favourite song, Racing In The Street, 3 times too. I’ve now heard Prove It All Night (with the ’78 intro) 5 times, and The River more times than I can remember. Even by that standard, the set of Oslo’s first show blew me away. Standing hand in hand with one of my closest friends, we sang of Better Days ‘shining through’, as Stevie gave us a smile and a wink to tell us that every little thing is going to be all right. No Surrender reminded me why it was that I wasn’t standing in University, rather hundreds of miles away… After all, we learned more from a three minute record, baby, than we ever learned in school. When the Band thundered into the groovy E Street Shuffle, they descended down onto the mini-stage right next to us. We boogied the time away, with the E Street Horns within grasping distance. Returning to the stage, the Arena went dark before a Tour premiere…

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If your heart is restless from waiting too long

When you’re tired and weary, and you can’t go on

Well if a distant dream is a callin’ you

Then there’s just one thing that you can do…

Follow that dream.

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As the song ended, I felt a transient moment of being back in Barcelona, when Bruce stepped up to the microphone and played the intro to ‘The River’. My eyes filled with tears, as I become all too aware of the friend I miss so much. Front row, and centre, I had a close and unobstructed view of Bruce as he played with all his heart. A sang and looked upward, and thought of Pere, my friend, my brother, without whom I’d never had made my first two Bruce shows. As the Band carried on playing, and Bruce broke into the ethereal falsetto which defines his 1980 classic, I was reminded of what made me feel so strongly as to write nearly a year ago “God was in that Stadium“, as the light descended down upon Springsteen, and his words filled the air.

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When the Band played ‘Pay Me My Money Down’, Bruce appointed me ‘time keeper’. 90 seconds, and he guaranteed he would have the whole Arena off their asses, as their brains received a message from their butt telling them to do so. As it happened, Bruce was right… 10 seconds in and even the people at the back were having a dance party, and one of them as it transpires, was Norwegian Prime Minister, Jens Stoltenberg! When the E Street Horns came down onto the mini-stage again, I enjoyed fervently singing with Jake Clemons, while he teased me by semi-acknowledging my Drive All Night sign.

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Bruce and the Statsminister- http://www.vg.no/musikk/artikkel.php?artid=10109645

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The connection with the Band kept coming. When Cindy came to preach during Shackled & Drawn, we sang to one another, for a few moments… I was reminded of what President Obama once said. It wasn’t so much a Rock concert, as communion. When Bruce played his signature intro to Thunder Road, all truths were validated, and all fears cast away. Standing arm in arm with my dear friends, Soozie smiled at me, and I smiled right back at her. To be that close to the Band, was to justify 4 days of queueing. To be a fan of Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band, is to be a part of one of the world’s most special relationships.

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When the encores began, little to no-one could have predicted what was to come. The Band had left the stage, and Bruce walked over to the piano. He thanked Oslo for another great show, and for being so welcoming of E Street to their culture. As he sat down, he mentioned that he had played The Promise a year before, and that tonight he had something special “For You”. A song full of heartbreak, the Norwegians around me in the crowd embraced one another tight, and proved that for such a cold country, the Norwegians I met have incredibly warm hearts.

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Wounded deep in battle, I stand stuffed like some soldier undaunted
To her Cheshire smile I’ll stand on file, she’s all I ever wanted

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At this point it was once again confirmed that Bruce and his Band of 40 years had fulfilled their promise to make something out of “nothing”. 25,000 people who a few hours before had been jumping to Badlands, and dancing to a Seeger/Springsteen classic, were now all stood paralysed by their emotion. Bruce did it so well. He did it like a Boss. My electric surges free…

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As the first night in Oslo came to a close, we thundered through the defining song of the mid 80′s – Born In The U.S.A. Even though I’ve now heard it a few times, I won’t ever tire of that notion that I am singing that song with Bruce Springsteen… Even before I was a fan of Bruce, I knew that song, and I knew how cool it would have been to be at an ’84 Stadium show. For the few minutes the Band played the anthem that the song became, I was transported back to a time 10 years before I had even been born. At song 27, a few minutes short of the 3 hour mark, the Band played their ultimate tribute to Clarence and Danny, 10th-Avenue Freeze Out. As it transpired, this would be the second to last time it would ever be played with the 2 – 3 minute interlude of remembrance for Clarence and Danny. While Bruce stood alone in the crowd paying homage to his best friend, and I stood alone doing the same thing, I took this picture of Nils, and captured what it means to miss someone.

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Leaving the show after night 1 it was an inescapable fact that I had just been a part of something greater than human. It was both an exorcism of bad, and a reminder of good. The message that FAITH will be REWARDED was proven, and the Norwegians – who are famously reserved with showing emotion – left with tears in their eyes. I know I did, and even nearly 2 weeks on, they’re still stinging. The next night came and shook things up. If night 1 was a communion, night 2 was a dance party.

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The show opener was arguably the greatest I have ever heard. A re-jigged version of 92′s ‘Leap of Faith’, fitted Bruce’s voice perfectly, and was like the mechanical build up to the start of something big. The lyrics were screamed by all to high heavens, and the crowd were noticeably more animated than the night before. The tone was set, an 80′s rock-fest as opposed to a 70′s soul excursion. With that said, the set openers included two hits from the Born In The U.S.A. album, including “Downbound Train” which allowed Bruce’s voice to soar. Out In The Street concluded the Wrecking Ball trio, and took me back to the day all those years ago that I heard Bruce for the first time, and fell in love. After – yet another! – rendition of Spirit In The Night, Bruce stepped up to the microphone and gave us a lecture on love, and on Savin’ Up. A song he originally penned for Clarence, as soon as it occurred to me what Bruce was about to play, my eyes got stingy, and my heart jumped. The Boss explained that he was going to become our ‘financial adviser’ for the evening, and talked about Saving Up… Saving Up… Saving Up, but not money! Rather, for something that money can’t buy - love. Springsteen’s voice echoed the rich sentiments of Clarences, and I smiled thinking of my favourite rendition of the song from C’s ‘Live in Asbury Park’. Roy’s piano was painstakingly beautiful, and whilst we missed Clarence with all our hearts – and no-one more than Bruce – as soon as the Band launched into the soul rocking classic, I remembered Clarence’s words “I wanna welcome you all to the Church of what’s happening now, right now… I wanna dedicate this song to all of my rich friends, with everything in their hearts and nothing in their pockets.” You may have diamonds, you may have pearls… The Band played the song perfectly, so perfectly in fact that I could almost feel the salty fresh breeze of Asbury Park, as if I was at that famous gig that I’d missed from way back in 2002.

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Another tear jerker was to come, with Atlantic City. When Bruce sang with a contrasting seriousness to the song before, “maybe everything that dies, some day comes back”, I thought of how true it was that whilst it is ‘only rock ‘n roll’, it’ still ‘all we have’. Open All Night rocked the Telenor Arena nearly to the brink of collapse, and before the encores began we got one of my favourites – Land of Hope and Dreams. To feel the motion of the crowd as they rocked, swayed, and jumped together was extraordinary… the perfect crowd.

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Back in November 2010, I remember distinctly hearing for the first time the – unreleased – 1978 live recording of “The Promise”. I said to myself, “the moment that music became the most important thing in my life just happened”. I was 16. It was the first time I heard the non-acoustic version of “The Promise”, and being in a place of tremendous emotional turmoil, the sentiments of “All my life I fought this fight, the fight that no man can ever win. Every day it just gets harder to live this dream I’m believing in…” rung true. It was a painfully truthful reflection of the way my life was, and became a song I’d listen to almost as intensely as Racing. When, last year in Manchester, I heard it solo piano, my tears weren’t due to the song, but the rudeness of the drunk people around me, who talked all the way through it. This time, however, being supported by someone who means the world to me, I had the perfect view of Bruce performing the perfect song. I simply cannot describe how good, and moving, it was… You simply had to have been there. Staring at Bruce and feeling elevated out of myself, the spiritual cleansing which that moment brought to me and the audience was immense. Not so much rock ‘n roll, as rock ‘n soul.

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After another Born In The U.S.A. came signature Born to Run, and when Bruce came down onto the mini-stage, and thousands of excited Norwegians surged forwards, my friends and I found ourselves strumming Bruce’s guitar once more. Getting a hold of his arm, we retreated slightly when Bruce returned to the centre mic, our hands as wet as he. Jubilant, we felt soul defined as we took part in E Street’s Rock ‘n Roll baptism.

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I don’t wanna go home!

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With another extraordinary night coming to an end, the vibe at the Telenor Arena was much more physically intense than the night before. That morning, while driving to the Arena, Norwegian Radio was commenting that the crowd hadn’t been as animated as they’d hoped, night 1. Maybe Bruce was aware of this, or maybe the show was going to be different anyway, but the second night had every single Norwegian dancing, and moving, in a way which I am told is incredibly unusual. With some Stevie and Bruce ass shaking came Ramrod, which shows off the most fun side of an incredible Band. Tenth-Avenue Freeze Out threatened to end the show, but as the – final – paused tribute to Clarence and Danny came to an end, Bruce shouted “one more for Oslo!”. We had a fair idea which song this could be, and sure enough – the greatest closer to a show I have ever seen. It was so good, in fact, that it made me want to Shout! As giddy as a man 50 years his junior, Bruce smiled and danced and ran all over the Arena, exclaiming the lyrics to a song originally by The Isley Brothers. It was staggeringly good, and reminded everyone (not that you could possibly forget?), that the E Street Band can move people as much physically, as they can emotionally. As the octaves went higher, and the Band got louder… As Bruce got sweatier, and our feet got sorer… The song reached its climax as the Telenor Arena was awash with happy faces, raised hands, sweat-ridden bodies, and rejuvenated souls. The E Street Band had travelled thousands of miles, and fulfilled their ‘solemn vow’ to rock the hoooouuusssee!

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As Bruce looked back one last time before descending down the stairs into the backstage area, he gave Oslo a look as though to say – we’ll be back. Looking behind me, I saw people hugging, laughing, smiling, and thirsting for water. It was evident that the experience had been, for everyone, something more than a ‘simple’ rock concert. It was life-affirming. As my plane taxied down the tarmac a couple of days later, my heart was filled with a sadness. To experience something so special, with people so dear, only to fly away is a hard reality behind touring with a band… However, as the plane pointed its nose towards Sweden, more concerts, and more adventures, I remembered what Nils and I had been talking about all those days before. Evolution… Evolution…

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Evolution.

Categories: Music, My thoughts.

We Are Alive

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on April 9, 2013

He asked, “What makes a writer?” “Well,” I said, “it’s simple. You either get it down on paper, or jump off a bridge.

– Charles Bukowski

A few weeks ago, I stood beneath a dark blue and black sky. The wind was strong, and cold, and the river which lay before me was raging. I stood alone on the grassy embankment, with the bright lights of the city across the water, twinkling, and a tear in my eye. I was shaking. It was cold, much too cold, but that was only half the reason my knees trembled. The moon above me was bright, and the clouds illuminated below its pale white face looked like ghosts, out to remind the world that, hey - we are alive. They were dancing. This was the 5th time I had stood in that spot, beneath an ancient tree, and in the ‘garden of a thousand sighs’. The grass beneath my feet was soft, but unbroken. I knelt down, placed my hand onto the cold withered grass of late winter, and spoke. There were no people around me, but as I closed my eyes I was joined by my Father, and my best friend. Looking at the darkness of the ground beneath me, I witnessed the passing of another year without the man I call my Dad. I stared. I spoke. My voice cracked and my eyes stung. This was the last place my Dad’s physical being had ventured. It was the spot where his ashes were scattered. Now a seemingly unassuming patch of well kept grass beneath a tree a thousand years old, and teeming with the final songs of people who themselves had once mourned, the grey dust which I, as a young boy had knelt and cried over, half a decade before, had long since been absorbed back into the earth that gives us life. But as I stared into the void of my memories, for the first time, my Dad looked back.

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I remembered a moment in September, when, over 5,000 miles away from Scotland, I stood looking out over the desert of New Mexico, on a cliff overlooking the Acoma Reservation. It was my furthest horizon – the land over which the distant sun was setting, was a whole world away from the place I had been running from all my life. Beneath a deep blue sky fading to a dark purple, with orange streaks of the sun’s sacred light casting out in all directions, as if painted by the hand of an Artist who had seen the sun from every angle, I stood – as I was doing now – looking into the sky and seeing the faces of the ghosts who, as Bruce had taught me about over the Tour, would continue to inform me, and walk alongside me, for as long as I should live.

Completely alone, I prayed. But as I prayed, I was haunted. Not by ghosts, but by reality. As it transpires, one really cannot outrun one’s problems. I was thousands of miles away from home, and yet I was acutely aware of all that I was missing. As I thought about my Dad, and about my dear brother Pere, two birds flew past my vantage point, serenaded me, danced, and flew away. Later in the evening, an elk walked in front of our car, glanced at my friend and I, and then disappeared into the night, giving a meaning which only a person of the 10,000 year old Acoma could define, but also a memory which will be with me for life. As our car lumbered peacefully down the deserted highway back to Albuquerque, the sky was full of a number of stars incomprehensible to a mere mortal like me. Listening to The Ghost of Tom Joad, I closed my eyes… Then I opened them, again, and I was back in the Garden of Remembrance.

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As I have written about over the years, and as anyone who has ever known me is aware of, I would not be here if it wasn’t for Bruce Springsteen. His music has been the soundtrack to my life, from the moment I was thrust into adulthood when I should have been basking in the warmth of childhood innocence. My Dad’s death robbed me of my Father, but it also stole away my family, and cast me into a world where I was alone. When I discovered Bruce, I – as I have written about – felt for the first time in my life, that I was not alone. I discovered a voice which told my story, and which gave me the strength to make it from chapter to chapter. In moments of joy, Bruce’s music helped me celebrate. In moments of sorrow, Bruce’s voice told me that I would be OK, and in moments when I contemplated suicide, Racing In The Street convinced me to stay. I knew, with a faith stronger than anything I am yet to experience elsewhere, that I was listening to a man who had felt what I was feeling, but who had survived. I knew that I could, too. And so far, I have.

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I could write a million words, in a million languages, and still would not find a more perfect way to describe to the world how I feel about Bruce, than to say, simply – he saved my life.

Photograph by Julian Broad. (The New Yorker)

Standing that lonely night by the River Tay, I listened to the music which had protected me throughout the years. So many of Bruce’s songs defined my relationship with my Dad; none more so than “Independence Day”. A few epitomised what it felt like to be a child without a Dad, and one even manages to describe how it feels being a 13 year old standing over the dead body of his Father, in the form of “You’re Missing”. That song continues to resonate in my heart, and mind, and I know absolutely that, if my Mum were to listen to it, it would tell her the story of losing her husband, too. The Rising had always been the album I would listen to, for strength, particularly when I was missing my Dad. This remains true in 2013, but what made this Valentine’s Day different, is that, in this past year, I have seen Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band live, 10 times, myself. It was my ultimate dream, and it was realised.

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Also different, was the fact that I stood with a ring on my finger. It was my Dad’s wedding ring, given to me by my Mum before I travelled America. I had placed it on my finger, during Bruce’s speech while playing ‘My City of Ruins’, as immortalised in my last blogpost. At that moment, I found peace with my Dad. And so, as the tears welled up in my eyes, and my body ached with the cold of a Scottish winter’s night, my heart was warmed once again while I listened to the ‘bootleg’ of that show. I relived the moment when I found the Ultimate peace, to the words of a 63 year old man from New Jersey. Whereas year before year I had stood there and cried, this year, I smiled. Because I knew that, for the first time since I lost him, I was smiling up at my Dad, and he was smiling down on me. Actually, he and Pere were alongside me, in the same way I imagine that Bruce felt Clarence, Danny, and the Ghosts of his life alongside him, as he gave to us, his fans, the strength which he has built up throughout the course of his life. I felt healed.

Raise your hands!

If I were given the opportunity to experience again either my 5 week mammoth tour of the United States, or my 5 day trip to Barcelona, I would choose the latter. Whenever I am feeling beat up, as though lying with my face in the dirt while people passed me by, I think about the experience I felt in Catalonia last May. The second show at the Estadi Olímpic Lluís Companys, I heard Racing In The Street. It was the most perfect, and most beautiful moment of my life. It was also the most healing, and liberating. And so, as I stood beneath the moon in February remembering my Dad, I also listened to the moment that from the dark stage of Barcelona’s Olympic Stadium, came the piano of Roy Bittan, and voice of Bruce Springsteen, who, together along with the E Street Band, changed my life forever, by playing the song which kept me alive.

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Since I lost Pere last year, my heart, my mind, and my soul, have been lacking their once permanent connection to my words. I have struggled immensely to write, but, as a Writer, my job is more than to simply put words to paper. It is a Writer’s job to observe, to feel, to see, and to listen. It is my job to tell the truth. And so, whilst I have been quiet for a lot longer than I would ever have wanted or anticipated, when – in an extraordinary and somewhat unusual moment of emotional intimacy – I write a post like this, I do so hoping that my words can have even a fraction of the effect on you, as Bruce’s words have had on me. Indeed, I know that many of you have read this post and smiled, nodded, in acknowledgement that you get what it is that I am saying. After all, 90% of the readers of this blog, come here to learn more about their favourite 63 year old.

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Finally, as the night drew in, and the sky got even darker. As the wind intensified – as though mimicking the gust of rejuvenating breeze which fell upon all 50,000 people at the end of Barcelona’s Racing - and, as the moon brightened, I listened to the final song of the evening; We Are Alive. I remembered with painful vividness discussing hearing that song in Barcelona, with Pere, and how he looked at me in the eyes, patted me on the knee, and smiled, when I told him how that moment had been the closest I had felt to my Dad since he had died. Pere was the first person I met and was friends with who understood the weight of that sentence, and in one flash of his warm smile, he acknowledged me. He acknowledged everything, like no friend had done before.

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Now he is gone, too.

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But I can hear him. And I can hear my Dad. They’re singing… They’re singing a song…

Well, we’d put our ears to the cold grave stones
This is the song they’d sing
We are alive
And though our bodies lie alone here in the dark
Our spirits rise to carry the fire and light the spark
To stand shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart

We are alive.

After all, no good thing is ever wasted.

Categories: Change, Music

Tagged: Adulthood, Adversity, Barcelona, Beauty, Bruce Springsteen, Catalonia, Change, Charles Bukowski, Circumstance, Clarence Clemons, Death, Depression, Dreams, E Street Band, Family, Freedom, God, Happiness, Heartland Rock, Human Condition, Humanity, Life, Love, Lyrics, Me, Music, People, Poetry, Prayer, Psychology, Quotes, Religion, Resilience, Rock Music, Society, Springsteen, Struggle, Suffering, Travel, USA, Writing

Tomorrow There’ll Be Sunshine, and All This Darkness Past

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on December 31, 2012

On the 21st of September this year, an old friend of mine said to me -You’re the luckiest guy I know, Connor!

As I sit here now – on a train to Edinburgh to experience the world famous Hogmanay celebrations which, every year, put Scotland at the top of the list of places to travel – I think about 2012; my travels & adventures, my loves & losses, the sights and sounds I have experienced across the world, the 20,000 miles I have travelled, and the words of my old friend, and how – undeniably – 2012 has been the most exciting of my life so far.

More recently, another old school friend said to me that I had an awesome life. Just like my other friend’s words, this sentiment has also been playing on my mind.

When I consider 2012, the 19th year of my life, I recognise the truth in that statement that I now have an “awesome” life. Unlike my friends who took the bold road of academia & University, I forwent the opportunity to study, in exchange for making the conscientious decision to follow my heart, and not my mind. I knew cognitively that my exams and University mattered, but my heart knew what my soul was yearning for – to follow my passion and love of music & combine it with the other yearn of my life… to travel.

One of the most beautiful moments of my life. At the Acoma Pueblo in New Mexico, over 5 thousand miles from here. (Thanks Steph for the photo)

When last year Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band announced their Wrecking Ball tour, my greatest dream was set to be realised. And so, on May the 17th this year, I saw Bruce and the Band in Barcelona. The first of what transpired to be 10 concerts, in 6 cities, 3 countries, and 2 continents, that moment the Band walked on stage changed my life forever. I felt healed, and I felt liberated. I was freed of years of pain and unhappiness, and my focus and attention altered to see the light in my darkness, embodied by Bruce Springsteen, the E Street Band, their music, and my dear friends I have met through them.

As the year progressed, so too did my adventures, and, also, my struggles. 2012 has not been an ‘easy’ year for me, in many respects, it has actually been the most challenging of my life so far. I continued to listen to my music like my life depended on it, because often, it did. For every victory I accomplished and every friend I made, more trials and adversity hit me, and my family. At times my life was as dark as the solitude and struggle which defined my childhood, yet 2012 brought a light, a happiness, which I never experienced before. For the first time I was enlightened to the tremendous beauty of our world, and the love which can be found between Man. For every concert I attended, and mile that I travelled, I ventured further into the blissful abyss that life can offer. Suddenly the contrast between good, and bad, was exemplified to proportions I have never felt before. So when I consider the words of my friends, I realise that whilst my year has been special at many moments, it has also offered that reminder which all people live with that, at any moment, that light in your darkness can be extinguished.

And so it was that in July, my best friend died.

Pere realising his dream… Backstage with Bruce Springsteen

That was the hardest day of my life, and in a cruel irony it occurred amidst the best year of my life. As we go into 2013, I head towards the 5th anniversary of my Dad’s death. In the near half decade I have had to come to terms with losing my Father, the constant awareness of his absence has transcended pure pain, into an understanding. In New Jersey in September, I stood in the crowd as Bruce spoke about allowing the ghosts of our past to walk alongside us, with us. In that moment, as though with the cool evening wind of late fall, came something which has changed my life forever.

I found peace with my Dad.

Bathing in the emotional protection and liberation which comes with a Springsteen concert, I reached into my right pocket, and pulled out my Dad’s wedding ring, which my Mum had given me rather symbolically before I left for America, to mark the beginning of my independent adult life. I held Dad’s ring tight in my hand, and raised it into the air as Bruce told me and thousands others to raise your hands, and rise up. I closed my eyes, and as Bruce stood with Clarence, I stood with my Dad. I also stood with Pere.

The key thing which has come to define my end of year thoughts is Pere. When I think about him, my best friend, I can acknowledge the fact that the pain of losing him is with me at every moment. It is inescapable, it is at times crippling, and I can’t stop missing him with all my soul, and loving him – my brother – with all my heart. I also feel a strength, a strength in the faith which he helped me discover, and understand. Accessed through our music, it’s the faith in something greater than we can merely see – it’s a faith in love, and something more.

I met Pere in Barcelona, around the time of my first ever shows. Our weekend together concluded what was the greatest few days of my life, and I left Barcelona reborn.

Following those momentous days in Catalonia, I continued my adventure… Despite the raw adversity which July brought with it, I have had some experiences which so many people older than me say they wish they had done too.

I threw caution to the wind, and abandoned for the time being University. I went to Barcelona, and held Bruce’s hand, strummed his guitar, and had the song of my life played right before me.

This gun’s for hire… even if we’re just dancing in the dark

I then danced on stage with Bruce Springsteen and Nils Lofgren, to mark his 61st birthday. I attended soundcheck at Wrigley Field in Chicago, where my dear friend and I heard This Depression at least 8 times, in an otherwise empty baseball park, before embarking upon a 4,600 mile road-trip, through 15 of America’s States. I saw Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, New Mexico – where I fell in love – Texas & the Cadillac Ranch, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Nashville Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, and even walked the streets of midnight Manhattan in New York…

Driving from Colorado into the desert of New Mexico… (Photo courtesy of Steph)

Concluding in New Jersey, I walked the boardwalk of Asbury Park like the man whose music I have loved for what seems like a lifetime, and met Stevie Van Zandt backstage in the ‘Underground Garage’ of the Metlife Stadium, before seeing he and Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band rock the 60,000 people in the meadowlands. Standing under the twinkling stars of New Jersey, and the bright lights of a world famous Stadium, Springsteen took to the stage and shouted “Good evening, New Jersey!”, and as, on the third night, he played Jungleland, I realised that more dreams of mine than I ever even felt worthy of, were all being realised.

With Little Steven, baby!

When I think about those moments, just the few of many, many more, I understand why from anybody’s perspective, I have had an awesome year. I have learned a lot, I have gained a lot, and, indeed, lost a great amount too.

But, as I sit here with the cold light of Scotland’s winter evening fading, I realise that the person I am now is armed with strength, faith, and understanding which took exactly every second of this year for me to acquire. This year I learned lessons which I may never have learned otherwise, and have formed life-connections with friends which normally I might have had to wait a lifetime to achieve. Whilst I have lost a lot, I sit here with a profound and humbling number of reasons to be grateful.

I thank all my friends and relationships, from South Africa, to Sweden & Norway, Denmark, the Netherlands, America, and Canada, not to mention the UK & Ireland, for accompanying me throughout a year which I hope will set the tone for the rest of my life. And that is one of adventure, where I have the courage, and the ability, to follow my heart. To conquer adversity, and similarly allow that adversity and pain to be built into the strength of my character. To remind the special people in my life how much they mean to me, and to never let go of the love I have lost along the way. To walk on up the road that is life, alongside those I have lost due to the mortality which will one day take us all, and to remember the love I have felt for people which is no longer, for different reasons.

I also hope to invest in, and develop, my writing. I owe it to those who read this blog, and myself, to write like my life depends on it, in the hope I can help others and free myself of that which haunts me. I owe it too to Pere, to live a good life and treat people with the unreserved love which defined his.

2012 has been a year of struggle for many. From the devastation on the Jersey Shore which friends experienced, to the atrocity in Connecticut only weeks ago. Life has continued to be unspeakably hard for the people who deserve it less, but I have faith and confidence that together, united, and maintaining our faith in the dreams that unite us, we shall overcome – some day.

As light fades on the last day of December, and 2012, I wish you all peace, love, and happiness for 2013. I hope we can all finish next year with our lives even better than today, and I continue to hope that, together, we can be the answers to the problems of one another’s lives. I hope that with the New Year you find peace in your lives, and an ability to forgive those who have let you down, in the same way you hope to make things right with people who perhaps you struggled to remind of your love.

I hope to work on becoming the best version of myself, and I hope that life is so in 2013 that you can do the same.

To my friends, my readers, and to the people who have made 2012 so special for me – thank you. From Chicago, to New Orleans, from the muscle to the bone… Love, and best wishes to you all.

I will provide for you and I’ll stand by your side

You’ll need a good companion now for this part of the ride

Yeah, leave behind your sorrows, let this day be the last,

Well, tomorrow there’ll be sunshine and all this darkness past

Well, big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams

Oh, meet me in a land of hope and dreams

Categories: Change, Music

Tagged: Adulthood, Adversity, Beauty, Bruce Springsteen, Change, Clarence Clemons, Death, Depression, Desert, Dreams, E Street Band, Edinburgh, Education, Family, Freedom, God, Happiness, Heartland Rock, Hogmanay, Human Condition, Humanity, Life, Love, Me, Music, New Mexico, New Years Eve, People, Prayer, Resilience, Roadtrip, Rock Music, Scotland, Society, Springsteen, Struggle, Suffering, UK, USA

Good luck, goodbye, Bobby Jean

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on August 4, 2012

As the great writer and poet, Charles Bukowski once said, “poetry is what happens when nothing else can”. I have always thought the same of words. So often in my life I have turned to words in moments when nothing else could bring any absolution. Music, the ultimate form of poetry, is the last point of retreat when the world seems at its most dark. Musicians can often stand between the void of darkness and emptiness in pain and desolation, and the undying light of hope which keeps it at bay. When I was young and the world seemed like a dark place, I found the work of a young musician from New Jersey. I listened to The River, and could relate to the pain which propelled this musician to write what now supported so many people’s lives. Through him I found that light which fuelled my desire to keep fighting when nothing else did. More importantly though, than even the beauty of his sound, the power of his words, or the thunderous work of his band, I found through Bruce Springsteen some of the most special people I have ever met. Through Bruce, I met my best friend. Through Bruce, I met Pere.

Abraham Lincoln once said that “it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years”. The same is true of friendship. I know from absolute experience that time can so often be irrelevant when dictating the course of a relationship. When I met Pere in September 2011, as a fellow fan of Springsteen, I could never have known that we would become so close in such a short period of time. Alas, I could never have known how little time we actually would have together. With the notion of life in the years being worth more than years in the life, I can now say with complete conviction that Pere and I shared amongst the greatest of friendships it is possible to have. In a few hours though it will be the 4th of August, which will mark one month since my dear friend, my brother, Pere, died.

In my time with him I never once considered the possibility that I would lose Pere. Meeting him was the first and greatest example of my faith being rewarded, as the music which brought us together so fervently teaches. I have lived a long life in 18 years, and found it hard at school to find people with whom I shared a true connection. With Pere, I found not only the greatest friend I could ever have asked for, but one of the few people I have met who understood me in a way I don’t even understand myself. He was my advocate, my friend, my brother, and one of the people who believed in me most. He saw in me something worth fighting for and caring about, which was an honour as Pere was a great, great man. He was 24 years my senior, and yet possessed an air of excited optimism more befitting of a man less than half his age. He loved life in a way not many people do, which is perhaps the cruelest irony of his death. Pere was a man who found value and meaning in his life living for, and looking after, other people. The degree of love he held for his family, and which they hold for him, inspired me greatly. It still does. It was one of the many great elements to Pere’s character which made him a hugely significant role-model to me, the students which he inspired, and the family and friends whom he loved.

When news broke of his tragic accident, and I frantically tried to gain an understanding of just what had happened, I found myself on the medium of communication where we first met – twitter – reading the posts of newspapers and people of Catalonia alike, describing the circumstance in which Pere died, and the deep hole he left in the hearts of both Catalonia and its people. A month on and I still can’t quite grasp what a shock it was to learn that my dear friend had been killed, over 1,000 miles away from me, and that never again would I receive an email, a personal message, or phone-call from someone who I spoke with daily for nigh on 10 months. When I wake up each morning that news still hits me as just that – news; bringing with it all the pain of missing someone who should, right now, be writing his own blogpost about our trip to Helsinki.

A few nights ago Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band broke the 4 hour mark, setting a new record, and creating a moment in history. The concert is widely regarded as a highlight of the Wrecking Ball Tour, and will be looked at forever more as a concert for the ages. While the Helsinki Olympic Stadium (Helsingin olympiastadion) was being rocked to its very foundations, and the people there were having an experience of rock music at its absolute best, and as the Springsteen and music world looked on in awe and wonder as the 62 year old rocker and his band smashed the 4 hour mark, I was stuck in my hometown unable to escape the reality that Pere and I were supposed to be there together. We had planned the trip on a wonderful moment of spontaneity, when Helsinki was announced as a bonus date to conclude this European leg of the tour. Speaking to Pere one morning as we so often did, the news broke of the July 31st concert, and as quickly as I could ask him if we should do it, he was in the process of asking me the same thing. With that, we bought our tickets, booked our hotel rooms, and our flights, and planned the Springsteen trip of a lifetime. Our experience was going to be especially unique, as we were going armed with backstage passes, which Pere had won in a competition in April; a competition which led my dear friend all the way to New Jersey itself, to meet his hero, Bruce Springsteen.

Sitting at home that night, when I should have been with Pere, I found comfort in only two things. The memories I have of a friend who meant the world to me, and the love and care of someone who means the world to me. As the night progressed, and the Springsteen world was enthralled in the news from Finland, I was reminded not about how much I had lost – though that figured greatly – but actually how lucky I was (and am) to have known Pere. How lucky I am to be able to go through life saying with absolute pride that Pere was my friend, and that I was a friend to him. Similarly, as I opened a gift from 4,000 miles away and a person who means more to me than I can describe, I realised that my reasons to make life good were as strong, if not stronger, than they ever have been before. After all, I owe it to Pere to use the faith which he helped me acquire and understand for the good of myself, and the people I love. A few hours before the concert started, I said that I hoped the concert stood out as a highlight of the tour. Whilst it was no longer our show, and I wasn’t there, I knew that Pere would be. He was, after all, Bruce’s most loyal fan.

One day in April I received a very excited and remarkably surprising message from Pere. He had entered a competition to find Catalonia’s Number 1 Bruce Fan. Starting amongst hundreds of other people, Pere made it to the final, which was broadcast live on TV. I watched the show, and saw the moment Pere guessed “Rosalita” (from a segment of music less than a few seconds long), and won the entire competition. When we spoke after his win, he was truly the happiest person alive. And he deserved it. His prize was one to behold. He was flown with his closest to New Jersey, where he went backstage before the final show in the US, in Newark, and met his hero – Bruce Springsteen. Pere lived his dream, and did so with one of the people who meant most to him, meeting the man who Pere had dedicated so much of his life to the work and mission of.

The moment Pere’s dream came true

When Pere got back, he told me about his trip, about meeting Bruce Springsteen; the moment he realised his dream, and he did so in a way which was so incredibly surprising, and touching. Pere was so sincerely happy, but as happy as he was, he was also modest. Modesty was a part of Pere’s character which was quite defining, and Pere’s air of modesty extended to even meeting Bruce Springsteen. It took until after he had died for me to learn that Pere was actually a Professor at a Catalonian University. I had always been aware of just how clever he was. After spending only a few minutes with him, Pere’s level of intelligence was evident. He paid his mortgage in Japanese Yen for reasons of global economics he tried to explain to me, but which to this day I still cannot understand. Whilst he was supremely knowledgeable, Pere was also compassionate. Two traits which often do not go hand in hand. I had known that Pere was a teacher, but he talked about this so casually and again, with such modesty, that it had never occurred to me that he was a Professor, and so was at an academic level higher than most people ever reach. When he got back from New Jersey, Pere told me about his trip with the greatest example of the modesty I just described. He had the best experience any fan could hope for. He lived the ultimate dream. And he deserved it. Pere was also adamant that he wanted me to have the experience which he had had. Pere believed with absolute faith that it would mean as much to Bruce meeting me as it would for me to meet Bruce. Pere’s own words, he concluded that this was because he believed that nothing touched Bruce as much as meeting fans who found in his music the strength which Bruce himself took from the musicians who inspired him to pick up the guitar.

With Sean MacGovern

Leaving New Jersey as a new friend of Sean MacGovern, Pere had made plans for he and I to go backstage in Helsinki. Whilst he didn’t say too much, he made it clear that if he could, he would do for me what the competition organisers in Catalonia did for him. I had a feeling that he was working on making my dream come true. Though I will never know the answer to that question, I do have faith, and hope, that one day I will meet Bruce Springsteen, hopefully with the person who means as much to me as Pere did, and that when I do meet Bruce, I will tell him that I am a friend of Pere’s, the man who connects us, and I will thank Bruce for introducing me to him, through the music which we both love so much. And I know that, if one day I do have that moment, Pere will be there with us.

When I have the courage, I re-watch that video, and as tears inevitably sting my eyes, I can’t help but also smile. Nothing makes me happier than seeing Pere enjoying some of the happiest moments of his life. I also smile remembering the day he told me about those moments with Bruce. “He was hugging me like a koala!”. Not many people can say that about Bruce Springsteen. But Pere could. Pere could say a lot of things which many people will never be able to. But he didn’t. Pere made the choice in life to only use his unique and special experiences for the benefit of others, and not by way of competition. He wasn’t the fan who has seen 250 shows and never stops reminding everyone else as such. Pere was the fan who was flown half way around the world, to meet Bruce Springsteen, the E Street Band, & their crew, backstage, to share a moment of extraordinary intimacy when Bruce confirmed with his mother, Adele, that indeed they were having dinner together that Friday. Pere himself ate dinner that evening, Bruce saying to him “it’s on me”. And not many people could say that when Bruce Springsteen walked on stage, May 17th in Barcelona, to over 50,000 people, and shouted “HOLA BARCELONA! HOLA CATALUNYA!” - referring not to Spain, but to Catalonia, effectively as a nation in its own right (as it wants to be) – that that was due to them explaining to the greatest Rock musician in the world the desires of the Catalonian people to be Catalonian. But Pere could. In his 42 years, Pere was more true to himself than most people are in a lifetime. He lived by his mantra. Dream. Believe. Dare. Do.

It was with that philosophy that he convinced within me the faith that I should, and could, follow my dream and see, for the first time in my life, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, in Barcelona. I wasn’t even 18 yet, but he believed in me enough that my confidence grew to the point where I bought my tickets for the shows in May, and, only a couple of months into being 18, I flew by myself to Barcelona. Friends here thought I was mad. After all, I had never travelled abroad alone before, I had never been to Catalonia before. I didn’t speak Catalan, and I had never met in person the fans who I would be meeting. Thank God however Pere convinced me otherwise, because my week in Barcelona constituted the greatest few days of my entire life. Had I not gone, I would have regretted it forever, and I do not know what I would have been doing now since going to Barcelona allowed me to meet the special people I did. Walking off my plane 3 months ago, into the hot Catalonian air, I was greeted by Pere in arrivals with the warm embrace of a brother. This was my first time meeting him properly, and yet I had never felt more at ease.

After the two concerts in Barcelona, I had the weekend with Pere. I stayed with him, in his home, and on the Saturday he showed me Barcelona. The next morning, before my flight home, he showed me his hometown of Terrassa. We were so close, and not once did it ever feel like I hadn’t known him all my life. We spoke without pause for our whole time together. From the moment after the show on the Friday night – when I heard “Racing In The Street” and was as happy as I had ever felt – we spoke for hours about Bruce, about Pere’s family, about life, and everything in-between. When he showed me the Catalonia he was so proud of, he did so which such enthusiasm in a way that I knew he was as happy about spending time with me as I was about spending time with him. We ate lunch together, and had dinner on the beach with his Italian friend Mara and her brother. Driving home that night we talked more, and we spoke about my Dad. I explained to him how much emotion I felt at Bruce’s concerts, especially during “We Are Alive”. That had been the closest I had felt to my Dad since he died all those years ago. Pere looked at me in the eyes, smiled gently, and patted me on the knee, acknowledging everything I felt in one moment. Looking back now, that moment in his car heading home was as significant as the moment at the concert which prompted our discussion about my Dad in the first place.

Regrettably the only photo I have with Pere. This was a very, very happy moment.

Whilst we didn’t have much time together in Barcelona that Saturday, we vowed that we would make some real time to see it properly again together. Pere was a very proud man of Catalonia, and loved Barcelona equally. He had every reason to love it so much. Barcelona, like the rest of Catalonia, is stunning. Pere took me up to Bruce’s hotel that morning, only once we knew he had left, so I could see just where the man that is Bruce Springsteen stayed. Perhaps the most significant aspect of that hotel was the view of Barcelona beneath it, one which took my breath away – much to Pere’s delight. Spending our day together, we got home that evening and chatted some more. We were both very excited about Helsinki, and I knew speaking to him that Helsinki would mark the first of many great experiences together. The next morning Pere showed me Terrassa. This trip was much quieter than our day in Barcelona, but I enjoyed it even more than the day before. Though it was tainted by the sadness of having to go “home” that afternoon. Pere showed me where he grew up; his school, his family home, his workplace, and the monastery which was so much apart of his formative years. The school was idyllic, and exactly where I would have imagined a man like Pere to have attended. That morning while we were there, the school was hosting some sort of fundraiser, and as Pere and I walked around admiring the school – Pere telling me about his time there, including playing The River from a hand held radio whilst up a lamppost – he seemed so at peace.

Before I regrettably had to get my flight home, Pere took me to the monastery which I had so looked forward to visiting. Whilst not religious, Pere was deeply spiritual. Though that spirit was more deeply rooted in the music he loved, rather than his Catholic upbringing. Poignantly named The Churches of Sant Pere, my friend Pere took a photo of me there which I will treasure forever.

Posting this photo the Friday after Pere died, I simply wrote:

Right now my dear friend, and brother, Pere, is being honoured in his hometown of Terrassa. He was, to the heartbreak of me, his friends, and family, killed on Wednesday in a motorcycle accident. Pere’s ceremony is taking place in The churches of Sant Pere, Terrassa. He took this photo of me in that very place, unbeknownst to me, in May. I am standing beneath a monument to Sant Pere. Pere was named after him. Love to you, my blood brother.

The few days after Pere was killed, I listened to one of his favourite Bruce songs, over and over. “Bobby Jean”. The song brought out a lot of emotion in me, as I miss Pere desperately. I will never be able to put into words just how much he meant to me, and I wish I had told him that more often. Though I have faith that, like in the photograph above, right now, today, and forevermore I will have him watching over my shoulder. And if he is there right now, all I want him to know is the love I hold for my brother will be there forever, and that I thank him, so much, for being everything to me when I needed it most.

L’amor a tu, el meu millor amic. Gràcies per ser el meu amic. Gràcies per tenir cura de mi. Amb vostè sempre.

The last conversation I ever had with Pere concluded not like all the rest. “Every action has its reaction”. Pere and I never said “goodbye” to one another. Rather we would, at the end of a conversation, say “keep in touch”. Because that’s what our friendship was; it never ended, and it never ceased to be at any moment. There was no room for “goodbyes”, as we would be looking forward to the next time we would speak. After Pere was killed, it dawned on me how poignant his last words to me were. We had been talking about the notion of karma, and with his words of “every action has its reaction”, I now see that the reaction to Pere’s death was an outpouring of love from across the world.

When writing my article on Barcelona, Pere helped me translate what Bruce said in his speech during “My City Of Ruins”; “Ës una història sobre el que perdem i el que queda per sempre” - It’s a story about what we lose and what we keep forever. That is what my relationship with my friend, and brother, Pere, has become. It truly is a story about what we lose, but what we keep forever. Pere will be apart of me forever, and I just know that one day, when I die, I will have the greatest man in the world waiting to greet me in The Land of Hope and Dreams. Until then, I will never stop missing him with everything in my heart. But with that, I also think of the other thing Bruce said that night; “Si vosaltres esteu aquí i nosaltres estem aquí, llavors ells estan aquí també”. If you’re here, and we’re here – they’re here.

Keep in touch, pal.

Categories: Change, Music

Tagged: Adulthood, Adversity, Barcelona, Bruce Springsteen, Catalonia, Change, Death, Dreams, E Street Band, Family, Friendship, God, Heartland Rock, Human Condition, Humanity, Life, Love, Me, Music, New Jersey, Newark, People, Prayer, Resilience, Rock Music, Springsteen, Struggle, Suffering

Summer’s Here and the Time is Right…

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on June 20, 2012

Night 1. Life doesn’t get better than great friends and great music.

Leaving the Estadi Olímpic Lluís Companys on the morning of May 18th, having had my first ever experience with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, and the closest and most meaningful inter-personal experience of my life, I couldn’t ever possibly have believed that anything would come close to that again… Let alone be more special. However what was to come would prove that belief wrong, and reverse that reality. The night of May 17th was simply the greatest moment of my life up until that moment. Of over 18 years of life not one moment had ever come close to my first ever concert with the E Street Band. I had never been as emotionally overwhelmed, rejuvenated, happy, healed, or validated. I left the Stadium with a new found sense of self, and relationships which will last a lifetime. My faith in music, and in love, was confirmed, and aside from God revealing himself to us in that Stadium, the energy which the E Street Band exuded was enough to confirm that I had everything I needed to be sustained in this life, and in the next. Leaving the heat of the Stadium with my friends, and venturing into the cool air of the Catalonian night, I couldn’t process what we had just experienced. I was in a state of shock; something so fervently shared by the dear people around me. Phoning my sister, I was a mixture of half-words and tears, though she was pretty quick to understand – even better than I – what I had just experienced. It was utterly life changing. I went to Barcelona as one person, and left the Estadi Olímpic Lluís Companys as a different person. More correctly, what I left as was what I felt to be the best possible version of myself. Looking into the eyes of the friends around me as we hailed our taxis, I could see in them what I felt in me – a change which would define every day from that day forth, and an appreciation of the absolute depth of power and beauty in music, and in companionship. With this in mind, I was almost certain that nothing could make me feel like that again… Except of course for the Band who we would go and see once more in less than 24 hours.

Early morning at the Estadi Olímpic Lluís Companys.

To quote Steph. “Blood brothers now”.

As light began to bathe the city of Barcelona in a warmth which emulated the awe-inspiring happiness of the night before, I left my hotel room – and Chris! – to meet a smaller but no less wonderful group of people with whom I would share my second night with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. Meeting Steph and Bridget (close friend of Steph’s and new friend of mine), we headed back to the Stadium to queue for another day, before experiencing our second ever E Street Band concert together. Attaining our pit numbers – mine being 414, double that of the day before (the first of many moments of beautiful synchronicity) – we settled down to a great number of hours of anticipation for the Band who we knew would, again, bring the power of music down on us.

While the day progressed I noticed that having now seen the Band live, the fervent excitement which presented itself so wildly the day before had given way, in part at least, to a more quiet excitement and happiness, marked by an acceptance that what was happening was real, and that, despite what I could comprehend the night before, what we were going to experience again would be real too. The excitement was still there, and in many respects amplified by the night before. However, where previously there had been an inability to accept what was happening, there now sat a warm glow inside which reflected the realisation that we could feel what was to come. Talking with Steph and Bridget, trying to understand the night before, I couldn’t help but smile endlessly about what was the greatest of nights. To know that we were in for a second round added a new element to post-concert contemplation; more specifically, the songs which were going to be played, and how they compared and contrasted with the music of the night before. Though night 1 had been greater than even my dreams would have allowed, I could not help but think about whether my ultimate dream – to hear “Racing In The Street” live – would be realised. I already felt like the luckiest man in the world, but there was a burning desire inside me which had been apparent for a long time, which didn’t allow me to stop asking the question - what if?

As with the day before, after we’d had a wonder down through the parks of Barcelona in to the local shopping mall, around of course the roll-call times, at about 3 that afternoon we took our place in the pit queue. Whilst not quite as high as the day before, our numbers still allowed for us to have the opportunity at least to be very close to the stage. Whereas the night before our strategy had been to get to the barrier at all costs, on the Friday we were armed with a new tactic; to forfeit potentially being at the absolute front, in exchange for being central to Bruce. He had paid an inordinate amount of attention to the people closest to him. With that in mind, as the clock struck 5pm, or a little after that, the gates were opened and we made our way into the Stadium, or what was more essentially the place of our dreams. Though the pit was filling, we kept our faith, and as Bruce himself promised, it would be rewarded…

Close enough to touch.

… and – as with the day before - it was. Standing amongst a crowd of more nationalities than I could count, let alone name, Steph, Bridget, and I waited the few hours it took for the Stadium to fill, the sun to sink below the walls, and the warmth of the day to be replaced by the heat of the people within the Stadium. If one emotion presented itself even more than all the others, it was happiness – and that felt good. So good. More specifically, a happiness we had inherited from the Band, from the crowd, and from one another, the night before. Even a month on, that emotional high which I left Barcelona with sustains me. A new capacity to cope with difficulty, and overcome adversity in such a way as I can separate myself from it, was born out of the Band who gave us the two greatest nights of our lives. As we waited for the moment, again, that Bruce Springsteen and the “heart-stopping, pants-dropping, house-rocking, earth-quaking, booty-shaking, Viagra-taking, love-making -Le-gen-dary” E Street Band would ascend to the stage before us, something which preoccupied my head, and my heart, was my question of faith.

Thinking about the years which had so come to define my relationship with the music and people of the E Street Band, I couldn’t help but feel – for the first time in my life – a sense that, in more ways than I ever thought possible, things actually made sense. I realised that it had to take adversity for such a feeling of connection, emotions, and love to present itself. After all, had life been easy, then music would never have come to mean so much to me. Standing in the pit, I was acutely aware that such a reality was shared by so many people across the world. I knew having known fans pervious to the concerts, that the E Street Band had had as much of a life changing, and life saving, effect on them as they had done on me. Realising that, and combining it with my new found sense of understanding of what it actually meant to be at the live concerts, I stood feeling closer to God than I had done in my life before. Not a religious God, but a God who represented the power of faith, and love, and actually – of music. When such a special moment is born of out a complexity which not even science itself could define, the truth in the power of faith was all that could be held accountable for the beauty in current events.

As the music which had been playing to the crowd became thwarted by the noise of the crowd itself, and the people who had for so long been sitting in the pit stood, it became apparent that the moment which we were waiting for was close. With smiles on our faces, and people pushing at every part of our bodies, we had our eyes set on the mini stage before us. Knowing that at the moment the Band ventured out on stage, everyone would move forwards, we made the tactical decision to move to our left. If only we had known what a significant decision this would prove to be.

In reality, it was a pivotal moment in what lead to me being touched by the hand of Bruce Springsteen himself, looking into his eyes, and seeing more love in one person than I had done in any other up until that day.

As the Band came out onto the stage and erupted into “Night”, the crowd exploded as it did the night before. Being central in the pit, we had a near perfect view of Bruce and his Band, and were nearly as close as it was possible to be. Already the night seemed different to the one before. Whereas 24 hours previously I had been truly awestruck in such a way as I stood almost unable to process what was going on, by this point I was truly there. Seeing Bruce and Stevie singing together just a few feet before me, it dawned upon me just how significant this was. Bruce, “the rock ‘n’ roll laureate of a generation”, who had been making music for over 40 years, and who had, in albums such as “Darkness on the Edge of Town” and “Born to Run” summarised so much of my life – like so many fans – before I had even been born, was close enough to hear my screams… Muffled though they were amongst those of many thousands of other fans. Whilst the Stadium was not at full capacity that night, and technically the setlist “wasn’t as special” (according to some of the truly extraordinary songs of the night before – most notably “Prove It”), from the moment the concert started I felt a feeling which was even more special than the concert on the Thursday. I felt truly apart of the crowd, with a spot between Bridget and Steph which was almost in line with The Boss himself. As the concert opened, and “Night” was played into “The Ties That Bind”, I had no idea what was coming.

The first moment, of five times, that I actually touched Bruce Springsteen came, when, during “My City of Ruins”, Bruce came to the mini-stage before us, and sang to us. As everyone lunged towards the man we all came to see, I was one of the few lucky people in that pit to lay my hand upon Bruce Springsteen. Excitement erupted amongst my friends and I, and our fellow pit goers who also had that honour. It was a truly magnificent, and powerful moment. To feel Bruce actually in the flesh, it confirmed what it was that I was beginning to understand – we were finally sharing a moment with him. That was the point at which our two lives intersected, and the man – 44 years my senior who had been the main source of support in my life – was there on the receiving end of our love for him, close enough that – for a brief moment – he felt the hands of me, of my friends, and of the people around us. The fact that he was singing “My City of Ruins”, where he confronts the loss of Clarence and Danny, but also the power of love to sustain our relationships beyond death, was utterly poignant, and – something which is becoming more regular now than ever before – I felt an overwhelming sense that this was just meant to be.

A sense of familiarity was evoked as the Band played their way through the first few songs. “We Take Care of Our Own”, an obvious staple of this Tour, was played into “Two Hearts”. The fourth song of the evening, and the second from the album which will always have the most special place in my heart – “The River” (otherwise known as the first album I bought by Bruce Springsteen). This was amongst the music which I loved most. Even though the setlist itself might not have been, from some people’s perspective at least, as “good” as the night before… For me, it was almost beyond compare. Every song was one which I enjoyed to its full. Though again, this was probably quite due to being able to appreciate the night in all its power, as opposed to the 17th where a lot of my appreciation is retrospective. (I cannot stress enough just how shocked I was!). The music was alive in a way that only the crowd and Band could match. By the 8th song we had “Spirit In The Night”, marked by Bruce’s shouts of “We are going to take you back to the beginning now… Can you feel the spirit? Can you feel the spirit now…?”. Not only could we feel the spirit, but it was alive.

As the concert progressed.

.. Alive in a way which I had not experienced before. As though channeling the very essence of life itself through their instruments, into our hearts, and our voices, the E Street Band proved - again - just what it is that makes them so immeasurably special. Then it hit us, as the horn section warmed up and the Band synchronised themselves into the introduction to… “The E Street Shuffle”, from Bruce’s second ever album. A song which involves the crowd and creates smiles which don’t wear off, Bruce’s singing was met by dancing and the faces of people who were experiencing pure happiness. Whilst the concert was, as a whole, composed of an eclectic mix of music which confronted everything from life’s greatest pleasures, to the pain of its very end, there were as many moments of pure joy as there were of potentially painful contemplation. To take people from the heart-thumping beat of “We Take Care of Our Own”, to the haunting voice of Jack from “Jack Of All Trades”, requires a skill, spirit, and understanding which very few people possess, but which – absolutely – every member of the E Street Band is capable of, especially under the (always present) leadership of Bruce Springsteen. Not only is this capability present, but it is intrinsically apart of their presence on stage, and their effect on the crowd. It is that element of humanity combined with love, and power of music, and faith in faith itself that makes for the musical experience of the E Street Band to extend from simply being in the moment, to being eternal.

The end of “The E Street Shuffle” was marked by the beginning of “Jack Of All Trades”, from Bruce’s newest album, “Wrecking Ball”. Assuming the voice of a man who represents the plight of thousands in this “world gone wrong”, struggling to make a living not for himself – but for the one who he loves, Bruce sang with a poignant simplicity the words to a song which echoed the sentiments of the lives of millions. Backed by his Band who were still smoking after their hard playing during the 1972 hit, when Bruce sang “If I had me a gun, I’d find the bastards and shoot ‘em on sight”, and the Catalonian crowd cheered, a sense of solidarity fell upon the crowd and reinforced the notion that we take care of our own, even if our Governments do not. As that warm cloak descended upon the crowd, contrasting against the cold and harsh truth of the song before us, we were reminded – again – why it was that to ever lose faith would be a loss beyond that of any other. Whilst the song evoked a lot of unhappiness, it left a fighting spirit which will last within all those who were there… Bruce sang with a quiet rage, not one born out of hate, but one of love for the people who he continues to represent. Us.

We were seriously close.

Much to my excitement, and the excitement of those around me, Bruce broke into a performance of “Trapped”. One of my favourite covers which he performs, it offered a great moment for the crowd to hear the full range of the Band’s power. From the quiet beginnings, into the crescendo which typifies their sound, back to the quiet again, before erupting into the chorus which the crowd so magically follows. Following this, and a performance of “Downbound Train”, another treat was in store. “Because The Night”. The story of love and the pain associated with it, Bruce and the E Street Band’s rendition was one to behold. Whilst technically his song, it was co-written and released by Patti Smith. Having known the song longer than I’d known Bruce, there was a great moment when the two met on the stage before us.

As the night progressed, the musical expression and the Band’s interaction with the crowd was much as the night before. The excitement was amplified considerably for us, as there were many moments when Bruce came close enough to us that on more than 1 occasion (I counted 5), we actually touched him. One of the greatest moments of the night came when Bruce sang “Working On the Highway”, staying for the entirety of the song on the mini-stage less than 3 feet away from us. (I do have a video of this, though whether I can upload it or not is another matter). A fun song, Bruce carried with him his acoustic guitar, and I took the photo above. His facial expression is one of the best I’d ever seen, and perfect for a song which really brought a fun tone to the evening.

Up until this point in the show, the night had proved to be even greater than the one before it. I felt apart of the performance in a way I was unable to the night before, and whilst I was still overwhelmed – like so many of those around me – it didn’t detract from being able to appreciate the concert in the moment. Standing with Bridget and Steph, I felt a connection with them as strongly as I did with the Band on stage. The crowd around us were consistently spectacular, and really justified the high place that Catalonian crowds are held in the eyes of Bruce, and fans alike. As the Band played “Waitin’ On a Sunny Day”, where once again Bruce came close enough to us that we got that “magic moment”, one could really feel his energy, as he ran up and down the stage with what seemed like endless energy. It was contagious, and the crowd jumped to the beat of the melody and sentiments of the song together. As the Band finished “Sunny Day”, they moved into “The Promised Land”, which marked the beginning of a moment which gives me tears to think about; the greatest moment of my life, where I felt more emotion than I ever have done before, “The Promised Land” began a set of three songs which created a moment so special that I doubt I will ever experience again.

As Bruce powered into the thunderous harmonica intro to “The Promised Land”, the power which the Band was exuding intensified inordinately. As the harmonica flowed into Bruce’s deep voice singing even deeper words, lines started to hit me in a way they never had done before. I resonated deeply with the sentiments of “Mister I ain’t a boy, no I’m a man / And I believe in a Promised Land”. I could feel as the song progressed a change in me which was defined by independence, contrasting with times past when the same words were used as my battle cry when trying to overcome adversity. Standing in a Stadium with nearly 50,000 people, all singing together those same lines, the emotional energy was immense, and reflected by the sound of the crowd. As the Band played, Bruce ran from one side of the Stadium to the other, carrying the energy with him as he did. People were smiling, jumping, clapping, and singing together. Bruce finished the song with his harmonica, and as he ran back to the stage, he passed me and I held his shoulder for a moment.

I looked to the sky, and during the most emotional moment of my life, said “Please God, play Racing In The Street”.

As the stage went dark, the crowd went quiet. Out of the darkness came Roy Bittan’s piano, playing the haunting introduction to that very song, the one which meant most to me, and the one I had prayed to God himself to hear just a moment before – “Racing In The Street”. As it hit us, what was being played (I write this as the tears well up in my eyes), I shared a hug with both Steph and Bridget. That hug lasted the whole song, as – during the most special, and emotional moment of my life – we listened to the E Street Band playing Racing In The Street, arm in arm, with tears in our eyes. As Bruce stepped back into the stage following his words, the Band took over in what is one of their most famous instrumentals. As the crowd stood in awe, I stood in tears, in the arms of two people who will have a special place in my heart forever. Together, we heard the most beautiful example of music that I know of. We shared a moment which might never happen again, but one which was more emotionally moving than just about anything else possible to experience. Looking into Bruce’s eyes – who was almost perfectly in line with me, Steph, and Bridget – I felt more emotion and love than I ever had done. Feeling the Band’s power at its peak, not only did I experience more than I ever even dreamt about, but it also confirmed exactly the reasons I, like fellow fans, love Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band so damn much. It was, unquestionably, beyond a human experience. God was in that Stadium. Coincidence would never have allowed for such beauty and perfection in events. Something greater than that caused “Racing In The Street” to be played. It was unspeakably moving, and will most likely never happen again – but that is okay, because what I experienced with Bridget & Steph will be apart of me forever. We shared something which most people can only dream about, and for the rest of my life I will remember that moment with all the intensity and meaning in reflection, as I did a month ago when it happened. To this day I still can’t believe it happened, but it did – and it was beautiful.

As the song finished, I felt a release of pressure which had been inside me for years. It was at that moment that I was reborn. As the Band finished the song, and the crowd cheered, there was a gust of wind, a breeze, which was symbolic of the spirit which had been present during the 10 minutes before. I had never felt as close to anyone as I felt to Steph & Bridget as the Band played “Racing”. I felt a connection to the music beyond that which I had ever even experienced before, and I had never felt so close to God.

For the first time in my life, when I listened to “Racing In The Street”, I didn’t hear it alone. Before that moment, I had always turned to “Racing” at the very last moment. It was the song I turned to when I had nothing else. Listening to that song hurt nearly as much as the pain which lead me to fall in love with it, and lean on it so much during my life. It was my everything, because it was also my nothing. In Barcelona, the Estadi Olímpic Lluís Companys, and in the arms of two very special people, I heard Racing In The Street live, and finally the truth in that song switched from the words of Bruce, to the overwhelming instrumental which takes over. I was no longer stuck in the pain of the words, rather the release of that pain, in the form of the music. Hearing the song live allowed me to move past whatever it was which had been holding me back, to be free in the same way as the Band were playing. There now lives in me a happiness which had been gone for so long, and I associate that with Bruce Springsteen, the E Street Band, my favourite song, and the two people I stood “shoulder to shoulder, and heart to heart” with.

As though not already perfect enough, Bruce elevated the crowd to new heights by playing “The Rising”. This was essentially perfect, as we were now experiencing a song about overcoming adversity, and fighting back. The chorus “Come on up for the rising / Come on up, lay your hands in mine / Come on up for the rising / Come on up for the rising tonight” were sung with absolute power by everyone in the Stadium. As the ground shook, and the lights on the stage were illuminated, Bruce sang with the crowd as the noise behind him increased, and amplified the sound before him. It was a magical moment. Taking us on a journey, from the person who would “feel so weak I just wanna explode / explode and tear this whole town apart / take a knife and cut this pain from my heart”, to the person who “stares off alone into the night, with the eyes of one who hates for just being born”, before propelling tens of thousands of people upwards, through the rising, towards the “sky of love, sky of tears”, we were taken on a journey which represented life. Adversity, standing up to it, faltering under it, but then rising again and overcoming it.

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band’s message was clear – it was time to “come on up for the rising”.

Before the encore… We’ll be seein’ ya.

The encore was as pure-rock as the night before. “Born In The U.S.A.” was played again (I’m sure for a certain couple of American girls), before rocking into “Born to Run”, then an absolute favourite – “Bobby Jean”, which had the crowd going for yet another song. Taking us into “Dancing In The Dark”, where we danced and sang together, the concert ended with another moment which I will remember forever. The energy was, again, electrifying, as the heat ranked up and the crowd jumped to the pulse of the heart of music before us.

Playing their final song of the night, and their ultimate tribute to Clarence, “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out” marked the 28th and last song of the concert of well over 3 hours. For yet another time, Bruce stood directly in front of us, and in a moment of extraordinary intimacy, we shared with Bruce Springsteen the moment he himself honoured his best friend, his Big Man, Clarence Clemons. Standing just behind him as we all shouted and cheered for “C” beneath the giant video montage, the moment came when Bruce screamed “From the coastline to the city, all the little pretties raised their hands”, as he did so leaning right down into where I was standing.

Unrivalled passion.

Seeing the tears in Bruce’s eyes, we could also see the fearless passion he held for life, and the eternal love he held for Clarence. Singing with an intensity which rivaled even the most sonically powerful moments of that night, Bruce looked right at us, before turning his attention back to the crowd who were together raising their hands. As I stood with Bridget & Steph, looking up at Bruce Springsteen who was singing with every last ounce of soul in his body, I felt an ability to appreciate the night for what it was – the greatest of my life, and one which will always be so highly regarded.

Leaving the stadium after the show, I knew I walked out into Barcelona as the happiest and most strong version of myself. I left with relationships which, whilst new in some cases, would be with me for as long as I lived – at a level much greater than I had experienced before. I live each day missing the people I shared Barcelona with, and count down the days until I see them again.

With Bridget and Steph, at the end of the greatest night of our lives, with the LEGENDARY E Street Band.

- In Tribute to Clarence Clemons -

*Note: Videos are soon to be uploaded.

Categories: Uncategorized

Hola Barcelona! Hola Catalonia! (Night 1)

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on June 18, 2012

“FAITH will be REWARDED”

- Bruce Springsteen

As life progresses I find that increasingly the main source of faith invested in me comes from the same people who support my writing and anticipate my new posts. This blog has always provided a great diversity in terms of content and message. I write about music, and I write about life… Most fundamentally I try to find that moment at which life and music intersect, in such a way which defines their dependence upon one another. That is, our dependence upon music in life, and music’s dependence upon life to be meaningful. It is in music we that find the definition of beauty, it is in music that we seek shelter in our moments of pain, and it is in music that we ultimately find ourselves, and one another. One can tell so much of a man’s character by the music he turns to, at his greatest moments of need. As a fan of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, I consider myself privileged and honoured – in the very true essence of the words – to be apart of what is, unquestionably, the greatest fan community in the world. All too often the sanctity of music is abused by corporations wishing to exploit sound and people to turn over a profit. This is not to negate the presence of truly revolutionary, beautiful, and relevant music within current society, but it is a fact that when the charts are dominated by people who don’t truly represent the essence of – at least what I consider to be – music, it can be hard to remember that, in some sections of society at least, music remains both fundamental to survival, and pivotal in helping give our lives meaning. Furthermore, music gives us the ability to find life’s very spirit itself. As a fan of Bruce and the E Street Band, I find myself apart of one of the greatest examples of people united by a shared love, set of ideals, and morals by which we live. Through the fan community lives are as changed as they are enhanced, in a way which is reflected only by the music which unites us in the first place. Whenever the world seems like a dark place, the Springsteen fan community serves as a prime example that to lose faith would be an immeasurable loss. Second only to the music we love, our fan community takes the music experience from the level of sustaining us, to the level of making our lives more beautiful than they could otherwise possibly be. As Bruce Springsteen himself put it, “The best music, you can seek some shelter in it momentarily, but it’s essentially there to provide you something to face the world with.” So too it is true that the best people, through the greatest of all fan communities, can come together and not only provide mutual support for those who may falter during the hard realities of life, but more essentially can – as a community, and as people with relationships within that community – bring a depth of meaning to life as an eternal entity above and beyond just about anything else.

Four weeks ago I experienced the greatest possible intersection of life and music. The ultimate fulfilment of the dream which sustained me, to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band live in concert, was something which went from being the hope which kept me going, to the reality which reminded me I was alive. The most significant, the most emotional, and the most overwhelming moment of my life came at the point when the notion of faith being rewarded became the truth in my life, and in the lives of the special people around me. That was the moment that the E Street Band ascended to the stage only feet in front of me, followed by the man who held the key to my survival through the hard times, words to the good times, and provided me with the soundtrack to my life. I had always known that experiencing the E Street Band live, in all their power, would be overwhelming. As an 18 year old leaving Scotland only a few days before the concerts, I anticipated a life changing moment, however the experience which came was beyond that which I could ever have possibly even imagined. What I felt was a depth of emotion, connection, and love which – before that moment – had been beyond both my cognitive and emotional comprehension. For the first time in years I felt like I was the person I was meant to be, with the people I was destined to be with, doing what I was born to do. I felt happiness, and I felt a release of pain which for so long had defined me. To say that seeing Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band was a life changing moment would be an understatement. I was reborn. I also was not alone. The music which represents a Band with 40 years behind them, the words which are the soundtrack to the lives of the fans who adore them, and the power which makes them the legendary E Street Band, combined, make for a force greater than anything else. From the moment the band played “Badlands”, the song which opened my first ever concert, 55,000 people jumped together, sang together, smiled together – and many of us cried together. Tears not reflecting unhappiness, rather a realisation that what we were experiencing was real. And my God, was it overwhelming. For weeks now I have tried to find words to represent the nights of May 17th and May 18th, and so far have failed. However, summer’s here, and the time is right…

From the moment in December that I bought my tickets to see the E Street Band in Barcelona, I was intrinsically aware that I needed to be in the pit. With over 50,000 people due to attend, I was committed to spending my first show as close to Bruce, and the band, as I could possibly be. Seeing them meant the world to me. Beyond my hopes for family and friends, it was my greatest dream. I at times lived for that moment, and was certain beyond doubt that I would do whatever it took to be firmly at the front of the thousands of fans, so that the moment that Bruce and the E Street Band took to the stage, I would be there. Originally intending to queue from 5am or thereabouts, upon arriving in Barcelona and meeting my buddy and fellow fan Chris, we established that the pit entry system would be based upon numbered entry and interval-oriented queuing. With that in mind, at 8pm on the Wednesday I acquired the most significant number of my life so far – 207. Technically queuing for 26 hours, the notion of “Faith will be REWARDED” kept us going…

… and so it was. We did it. Taking our places at the mini stage, below where Nils Lofgren and Sister Soozie would play, with a perfect view of where Bruce would sing, and of the Band as a whole, I realised with absolute certainty that the greatest night of my life so far, was going to be even more special than I ever had anticipated. And that was before the band came to the stage. Separated from Chris – who took his spot in the central crowd of the pit – I stood with five people who will have a special place in my heart forever, for it was with them that I would realise my ultimate dream – one which they so passionately shared.

The anticipation of seeing the E Street Band was overwhelming. As the stadium began to fill, and the sun began to set, my hands began to shake… Thinking back to all the moments where I only had the music of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band – experiences which defined their importance to me – it was an utterly emotional thing to comprehend that within a matter of hours that very man, with his band of 40 years, would be literally only feet before me. That was the first of many moments that tears came to my eyes. We stood pushed against the rail, close enough to the stage that it was within arm’s reach. Little did we know, but that very detail would be key for what was to come. With the light fading, and the stadium filling – so quickly in fact that, and much to the amusement of my Chicagoan friends, a mini human avalanche took place on the steps entering the stadium - the anticipation and fervent excitement manifested itself ever more extremely. It was an emotional overload, and even when the sound technicians and the lighting guys were scuttling around the stage, the crowd went wild. The energy in the stadium, even hours before the concert began, was electrifying.

Over 12 hours before, I had had a rendezvous with a great friend of mine and massive Bruce fan from Chicago, Steph, who had brought along with her three friends all making their European Springsteen pilgrimage. Standing with them – and John, a veteran of live shows – I could see reflected in their eyes the very same emotions which I felt, and which had brought us together in Barcelona to begin with. My tears were the tears of thousands, and their tears were the tears of my own. As the excitement of years waiting for what was now happening turned into a realisation that this was reality, the sun sank lower behind the stadium walls, and the crowd began to intensify. There was a spirit in the night and an atmosphere which echoed the unified love and hope, not to mention anticipation and excitement, of thousands. There was also the ever present sense of something awe-inspiring and life changing to come, that feeling that the moment the E Street Band came to the stage, they would rip the whole fucking place apart. And so it was, that just after 21:45, the E Street Band walked out onto the stage, followed by The Boss himself, and they did just that.

Seeing Nils Lofgren, and Soozie Tyrell, heading in our direction, and Roy Bittan and Garry Tallent heading to their half of the stage, time froze. Mighty Max Weinberg appeared at his drums, and Stevie Van Zandt made his way onto the stage, armed with the smile which he is famous for. The music which had been playing as the crowd waited, stopped, replaced by a cheering louder than even the soundcheck we had heard hours earlier. It was at that moment that Bruce Springsteen took his place on stage with his band, and my dream came true. Half the crowd were screaming uncontrollably, the other half chanting “Bruce, Bruce, Bruce…”. I stood with my jaw dropped, trying to squeeze out my own cheers, despite the massive lump in my throat. As Bruce and the Band quietly acknowledged the crowd, through smiles and the occasional wave, that moment which we had all been waiting for finally came. Bruce shouted, with a smile I have never seen before, “Hola Barcelona! Hola Catalonia! Hola Barcelona! Hola Catalonia! 1, 2, 3…” BADLANDS. The crowd erupted, and simultaneously jumped to the beat of a song which summarised the very sentiments of that which had taken me 1,000 miles to Barcelona, and that which I do believe every fan of the E Street Band believes in. To stand with some of the greatest people I have ever met, before the best band in the world, hearing the following words, live, was not only a dream come true, but it was the greatest moment of my life up until that point.

“But there’s one thing I know for sure girl
I don’t give a damn
For the same old played out scenes
I don’t give a damn
For just the in betweens
Honey, I want the heart, I want the soul
I want control right now
talk about a dream
Try to make it real
you wake up in the night
With a fear so real
Spend your life waiting
for a moment that just don’t come
Well, don’t waste your time waiting”

As the song progressed into the chorus, over 50,000 people sang together “BADLANDS, YOU GOTTA LIVE IT EVERY DAY…” , another moment which gives me goosebumps just to think about. Strum after strum, line after line, cheer after cheer, the Band whipped the crowd into a frenzy. As “Badlands” intensified, so too did the crowd, with lines such as “Poor man wanna be rich / rich man wanna be king / And a king ain’t satisfied / till he rules everything” resonating deeply, whilst being met by rapturous applause with singing to match, with it’s underlying tone of truth inspiring such an emotive response from the crowd. Interspersed with the chant, “Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh Oh”, synonymous with the song which opens “Darkness On The Edge Of Town”, the opening few minutes of the concert set the tone for the rest of the evening. And personally, when Bruce sang with all the power in his voice, matched by the thunder of his band;

“For the ones who had a notion,
a notion deep inside
That it ain’t no sin
to be glad you’re alive
I wanna find one face
that ain’t looking through me
I wanna find one place,
I wanna spit in the face of these badlands”

I realised that I was one of those people who had a notion deep inside, that really it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive, and that the faces that ain’t looking through me were the ones of the people on the stage before me, and the friends who stood with me. ”Badlands” truly marked the beginning of my emotional reconstruction, my spiritual enlightenment, and the best night of my life up until that day.

Below is a video taken at the moment I described, by a fellow concert goer who was on my side of the stage but right at the back of the pit. I know having watched that video many, many times that there are a few moments when I can spot what I know to be my arm. My friends and I were literally just below Nils, on the barrier by the mini stage (literally, at the front) – where Bruce visited later in the show. The video also shows the first moment that we made eye contact with one of the Band. Nils can be seen jumping to his right, and looking right down at where I was standing during the first song (1min 42). I remember that distinctly, and still get goosebumps. It re-affirmed the notion that it was real, contrary to what every fibre in my body could accept. With that one jump by the 60 year old rocker, the opening song by the 40 year old Band, and the awe-inspiring vocals of our 62 year old Boss, began the night which changed everything.

Flowing into “We Take Care of Our Own”, something else occurred to me.

“Where’s the eyes, the eyes with the will to see
Where’s the hearts, that run over with mercy
Where’s the love that has not forsaken me
Where’s the work that set my hands, my soul free
Where’s the spirit to reign, reign over me
Where’s the promise, from sea to shining sea
Where’s the promise, from sea to shining sea”

I realised that the eyes with the will to see, the hearts that run over with mercy, the love that has not forsaken me, the spirit, to reign, reign over me, and the promise, from sea to shining sea, were here, in Barcelona, on the stage in front of me, and in the hearts of those around me.

As the night progressed, so too did the emotions, the excitement, and the realisation that what was happening was reality. Something I had always heard of but obviously never experienced before my first show was just the level of energy in a stadium with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. It was unbelievable. I had been told by fans before me that during my first show I would be stood in a state of shock and awe, and that was entirely true.

Being overwhelmed was an emotion which was defining the first time I saw the E Street Band, that night. I was in a perpetual state of either tears, or being on the verge of them. I wasn’t unhappy -

Taken from brucespringsteen.net

completely the opposite. Emotionally overwhelmed, but happy. More happy than I had ever been before. There were moments of reflection, which were marked by tears of sorrow – but quickly replaced by those of hope and love. Introducing “My City of Ruins”, Bruce spoke for a few moments, and whilst I didn’t understand what he was saying in Catalan, I could feel the power of his words. Translated by my close friend Pere, Bruce’s words are as follows: ”Hola Barcelona. Hola Catalunya. Com esteu? Com esteu? Bé. Aquesta cançó és una història d’holes i adéus, del viure i del morir. Ës una història sobre el que perdem i el que queda per sempre” – [Hi Barcelona. Hi Catalunya. How you doing? How you doing? Fine. That song is a story about 'hellos' and 'good-byes', about living and dying. It's a story about what we lose and what we keep forever]. If I were to choose one sentence to summarise what it is that I felt that night, I would say “Ës una història sobre el que perdem i el que queda per sempre” - It’s a story about what we lose and what we keep forever. As Bruce finished roll-call, he spoke again. ”Trobeu algú a faltar? Trobeu algú a faltar? Si vosaltres esteu aquí i nosaltres estem aquí, llavors ells estan aquí també. Puc sentir-los en les vostres veus!” – [Are we missing anybody? Are we missing anybody, now? If you're here, and we're here - they're here. I can hear them in your voices!". This was met by an explosion of emotion, an intensity of love and devotion for the Big Man Clarence Clemons, and for Danny Federici, and also, for those who we love ourselves, who have died. One of the many things which separates Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, from the majority of other Bands, is the level to which they can, and do, take crowds emotionally. On May 17th, and for the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to have the power of music brought down on me. And it felt good.

One of the most emotional moments of the concert for me came at only the seventh song. Bruce and the Band played "Out In The Street" - the first song I had ever heard. At that moment I felt the beginnings of the release of many years of struggle. Hearing the song for the first time only shortly after I lost my Dad, I was taken back to that moment and reminded of just how much I had leant and relied upon Bruce Springsteen for getting through the hardest years of my life. When I first heard "Out In The Street", I realised that I would never be alone again. That was a promise I invested a lot of faith into, as I knew that - for lack of anyone else - I'd always have the Band to see me through hard times, and so it was that on the night of May 17th I was not alone. I was with some of the greatest people I had ever met, doing the greatest thing of my life up until that point. As the song began, marked by a high-five from Steph who knew of the significance of that song for me, I welled up - again - as I felt the emotions streaming out of my body, being enhanced and replaced by the power and love of the Band who saved me. A Band who were literally feet in front of me. Captured here is the moment Bruce visited the mini-stage right before us.

Up until this part of the show, to say that the excitement of the reality of which we were apart was overwhelming would be an understatement. A few times Bruce had toyed with us, stepping down from the upper stage, moving closer to the crowd. There had been moments when he had headed in our direction, but so far he hadn’t been close enough that we could have the “magic” moment. The anticipation of seeing him, close enough to actually touch him, was uncontrollable. That was, until during “Talk To Me”, Bruce Springsteen came close enough to my friends and I that we touched his guitar. Feeling the neck of one of Bruce’s signature guitars, with him literally inches before me, was absolutely, unquestionably, the most exciting moment I had experienced up until then. I could feel the surge of thousands of fans behind me, everyone pushing their way closer to The Boss. It was a truly special feeling, having Bruce before us with his guitar in our hands. A moment I will never forget, and one which most certainly will never stop making me smile. Watching the video below, I can’t help but feel completely excited. I mean come on – I TOUCHED HIS GUITAR!

One of the songs which I looked forward to hearing live most was “Waitin’ On a Sunny Day”. Whilst not a song I feel a massive emotional connection to personally, within the context of a concert Bruce and the Band playing that song involve the crowd in a way which is more vocal than perhaps at any other time. That is what I looked forward to. The excitement, hope, and happiness of tens of thousands raining down upon the stadium is a truly magical moment. It’s a given that the Band will play “Sunny Day”, and sure enough at song 16 (of 29), they did. The surge of happiness was matched only by that of the crowd, as everyone stood and sang together, with Bruce running around the stage with the energy of a man less than half his age, and a dignified air of optimism which so defines that song. Once again, he paid a visit to our section of the stage… And just look at what happened.

From Bruce’s official website – the hand next to his, is mine.

One beautiful moment of the evening was when, closing “The Promised Land”, the stage went dark and the Band played “The River”. The title track of the first album which I ever heard, there was a beautiful moment when the spotlight shined upon Stevie with his guitar, and Bruce started to play his haunting and heartbreaking harmonica intro. I had, for a moment as the stage darkened, thought that maybe, just maybe, the Band would play my all time favourite and most personal song, “Racing In The Street”. Alas, when they instead played “The River”, I was grateful because I knew not many songs could have lived up to what I felt was coming at that moment. However, not only did “The River” make up for the lack of “Racing”, but it took the concert to a new level in its own right. Perhaps most significant was the knowledge that one of the very special people I was with was experiencing in her world what I knew I’d be experiencing in mine if Bruce had played “Racing In The Street”, and that in itself made that moment something which will have a place in my heart forever.

Since getting home from Barcelona, I have been inundated with people telling me about what a special setlist I got for my first show. Perhaps the best example of just how special the setlist was is “Prove It All Night”, with the ’78 Intro. The moment Roy’s piano started, and the crowd worked out just how special this moment was, a cloak of that sense one gets of history-in-the-making descended upon the crowd. Only the second time played in this format since 1978, one could not escape the sense of how special the night had become. For some people that moment was even more special than others… Steph let out a scream which I do believe is captured on a few of the videos; a great physical manifestation of the excitement we were all feeling inside. This was only the second time that “Prove It” had been played with the prolonged intro of 1978, and man – was it special.

At well over 3 hours, the concert never ceased to be anything but extraordinary and the most positive and exciting thing I could ever have possibly imagined, and beyond. Many highlights though there were, some of the moments which will stay with me eternally are the times at which Bruce reminded me of what it was that had brought me to his music in the first place. Finding him at the hardest moment of my life, I developed a relationship with his music which at times left me relying completely upon his words and the sound of his Band. Where my friends would perhaps receive emotional advice, leadership, and strength from their Fathers, I received such life important learnings from Bruce Springsteen; whilst never once relinquishing the love which I have for my Dad. With that in mind, perhaps the most special element of Thursday’s concert was the connection I felt with my Dad. Most emotionally during “We Are Alive”. I hadn’t felt as close to my Dad since before he died, as I did when Bruce came to the front of the stage and started to sing that song. It’s moments like that which defined the evening as being so unimaginably spectacular, life changing, and rejuvenating. When reflecting upon that moment I have to say, there is truly something more than human about what the E Street Band does. Night after night, people travel sometimes even thousands of miles, to be healed, to to be loved, and to have fun. They go to the E Street Band, and now I truly understand why.

Bruce, during “Thunder Road”.

As the setlist closed, before the encore, I was overjoyed to hear Bruce play perhaps his most famous intro to a song with a harmonica. The warm start of “Thunder Road”, the intro of which echoes the sentiments of the song. A new beginning, life, freedom, the realisation of dreams, and the presence of love, and escape. Key elements of the song itself, Bruce manages to emulate the lyrical beauty of his song with the harmonic sound of his harmonica, before the Band joins in and magic happens. Together, with over 50,000 people, I sang “The screen door slams, Mary’s dress waves…”. As my eyes began to tear up for what seemed like the millionth time that night, I realised that I was experiencing the best life had to offer. It dawned upon me that what my friends and I were experiencing was that which we had always dreamt about. As the crowd sang and the music played, looking up at the Band, and around at the crowd, I got the overwhelming sense that this was life at its best. Over 50,000 people together singing a song written 37 years ago – each and every one of them believing in the message of the song, and standing together showing love and solidarity. “It’s a town full of losers, we’re pullin’ out of here to win”.

As the encore came to be, another dream was realised. As Bruce screamed “Barcelona, are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready? 1, 2, 3, 4″ BORN IN THE U.S.A. Massive goosebumps. This was a pure rock moment. I had seen endless clips from the Born In The U.S.A. world tour, where crowds rocked so hard stadiums shook, and now I was actually experiencing that power – and it was awesome. The Band was playing so hard, so loud, that I could literally feel the music coursing through my body. As the crowd sang the anthemic chorus of “Born in the U.S.A…” broken up by Bruce’s lyrics which were as angry and raw as they were 28 years ago, it was completely apparent that this was the coolest rocking moment of the night up until that moment. Pure power, pure rock ‘n’ roll. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at their loudest, and amplifying their best – a level of musicianship and talent which had sustained a show of over 3 hours. I was witnessing the greatest band in the world, with the greatest people in the world.

Almost seamlessly flowing into Bruce’s most famous song, and definitively one of his greatest, “Born to Run”, the crowd continued to sing, the smiles continued to grow, and the power grew even greater. Over 50,000 people taken to a level which transcends the constraints of life, living together in the moment with nothing but a desire to fight, to love, and to have fun. The sax solo which Clarence left was played by his nephew Jake, and a poignant and beautiful moment came when, at the end of the sax solo, Jake raised his saxophone to the sky. The presence of Clarence’s spirit had been alive all night, but no greater than at that moment.

The fun never seemed to end. “Bobby Jean” was then played, flowing into “Dancing In The Dark”. This was an encore to behold! And we were there! The crowd was alive, as we all sang and danced together, with the E Street Band. I ask myself the question – does life get any better? And truthfully, my answer to that question is – no. It was unspeakably fun, and whilst the night had confronted issues of dreams versus realities, love and loss, life and the eternal after it, for the last few songs before the finale, fun was on the agenda. I don’t think anybody does it quite like the E Street Band.

Finally, as one of the two greatest nights of our lives came to a close, we joined with Bruce and his Band in paying tribute to the BIGGEST man you’ve ever seen, the late and beloved Clarence Clemons. “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out”, “When the change was made uptown / And the Big Man joined the band”, marked the end of the near 30 song set, and what was the beginning of a new life. As the video montage of Clarence was played, and the crowd sang and cheered for him, I felt within a sense of acceptance for all the bad times I had experienced. For I realised, that without them I would never have been the 18 year old who would travel over 2,000 miles return for a Band who brought me together with the best people I had ever met – people I will hold close to my heart forever. Standing with the E Street Band, under their guidance, surrounded by some of the most special people I had met, and the love of thousands, living and breathing the spirit of Clarence & Danny, and all the people we love who are now beyond this world, the sense of acceptance was then superseded by one of thanks for having the E Street Band in my life, and even more so for bringing me together with people who will be apart of my life forever.

Thanks to Ruby, Gina, Bridget, and Steph for making the first of my concerts so special. Thanks too to John (who isn’t pictured here), Chris (for not murdering me in our hotel room), and Pere (for making my trip to Barcelona as a whole so enjoyable)

Leaving the stadium that night, I didn’t expect that anything could be more special than what I had just experienced. I had no idea about what was to come the next night, something which was even more special than the first – and believe me, that in itself says something.

●

- In tribute to Clarence Clemons -

Categories: Music

Tagged: Beauty, Bruce Springsteen, Change, Clarence Clemons, Death, Dreams, E Street Band, Family, Freedom, Happiness, Heartland Rock, Humanity, Life, Love, Music, People, Rock Music, Springsteen

Ain’t That Young Anymore

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on March 17, 2012

“So you’re scared and you’re thinking
That maybe we ain’t that young anymore”

- Bruce Springsteen, Thunder Road, 1975

This is the last post which I will ever write as a “child”. In less than 1 hour I will be 18 years old. 00:00, March 18th 2012 marks the moment at which my childhood will officially end, being replaced by the void which is my future as an adult. I stare the rest of my life in the face, and reflect upon what has been – almost – 18 years of life. When I think about everything which I have experienced, both individually, and as part of my family, and society, I am staggered that, as opposed to coming to the end of adulthood, I am merely just beginning. With this in mind it should seem fitting that I would feel able to embrace adulthood from any moment, yet the truth is that tonight I sit here, with 54 minutes until I become an adult, with unquestionable trepidation – although that should not detract from the fervent excitement I feel at the possibility of realising my dreams.

My childhood has thrown upon me more experiences than I would have expected the whole of life itself to, and whilst it is arguable that I was thrust into adulthood some years ago, only now am I about to become 18 – and for whatever reason, that “official” age which represents adulthood being associated with me is frankly surreal. It seems like only yesterday that my best friend Liam and I were “playing” soldiers in the fields behind my house. Liam is now a soldier in the 9th/12th Royal Lancers of the British Army, as a vehicle mechanic. Many of my friends are now embarking upon careers, whether academic or within jobs. Many are now driving, and most are experiencing the joys of getting pissed in bars and clubs. School will soon be over, and the fact is that we are all growing up.

Had you asked me a few years ago about where I expected to be at this point in my life, I would have responded by telling you of my intentions of pursuing a “professional” degree, for a “professional” career. I would have expected at this point to be in the process of accepting a place at University, and despite getting 5/5 offers from University a few weeks ago, I will soon be leaving school not to pursue academics, but rather my dream of seeing Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band on their World Tour (which kicks off the moment I become an adult), and my intentions of travelling to New Jersey, the Land of Hope and Dreams, and heck – if I don’t end up staying there (*fingers crossed for an opportunity to arise*) – I will dedicate more time to just doing what makes me happy. I am more than prepared to get a ‘punch in, punch out’ job, and will spend my hard earned cash travelling, and of course I will enjoy the pleasure of writing wherever it is that my ventures take me. There are some who disagree with my decisions regarding my life and future, but that’s just it – they are my decisions to make. I am following my heart, and the first time in a while am looking forward to enjoying life to the full.

I could sit here and spend the last 32 minutes of my childhood talking about the experiences which have made my childhood the rite of passage which it has been, but that can wait for the future. At this moment, despite all that has defined the past few years – a lot of which I have written about here, I am making the conscientious and active decision to enter adulthood in the way in which I intend to embrace it – with optimism, excitement, and determination to make my dreams real.

People have asked me how I intend to mark my transition into adulthood, and whilst I know it is considered tradition to go out and get totally drunk when one becomes 18 (which I won’t be doing for obvious reason, ha ha. Although – “like father like son”!), I am going to mark my 18th in the most special way I know. At 3 minutes to midnight I am going to play “Jungleland”, and so it will be the magic, beauty, and soul of Clarence Clemon’s famous Sax solo which takes me into the future. I will spend my last moments of childhood, and my first moments of adulthood with the BIGGEST MAN YOU’VE EVER SEEN.

I have faith in the future, and as Springsteen so passionately proclaims - FAITH will be REWARDED. And even though I’m scared and thinking that maybe I ain’t that young anymore, The Boss reminds me to Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night… You aint a beauty, but hey you’re alright. Oh, and that’s alright with me.

Categories: Change, Childhood, Music

Tagged: Adulthood, Beauty, Birthday, Bruce Springsteen, Change, Clarence Clemons, Dreams, E Street Band, Education, Family, Freedom, God, Growing Up, Happiness, Heartland Rock, Human Condition, Humanity, Life, Love, Me, Music, People, Rock Music, School, Society, Springsteen

"If you've ever doubted the power of rock (or music for that matter), you can renew your faith by reading Born to Run… And Write"*

“Evolution”

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on May 12, 2013

We Are Alive

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on April 9, 2013

Tomorrow There’ll Be Sunshine, and All This Darkness Past

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on December 31, 2012

Good luck, goodbye, Bobby Jean

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on August 4, 2012

Summer’s Here and the Time is Right…

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on June 20, 2012

Hola Barcelona! Hola Catalonia! (Night 1)

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on June 18, 2012

Ain’t That Young Anymore

Connor Kirkpatrick

Posted on March 17, 2012

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