Who would you sit out in the rain for? Wait for almost five hours while the sky spits hailstones and forks of lighting split the evening sky, after paying hundreds of dollars for the privilege?
The answer is Bruce Springsteen, for thousands of patient but sodden fans who watched his final Australian concert at Hope Estate in the Hunter Valley last weekend.
It was soggy, the location was remote and the food and wine options overpriced but it was all worth it from the moment The Boss strolled on to stage, struck up the chords of Who’ll Stop the Rain and took command of a barnstorming, ass-shaking, riotous, non-stop three-hour set.
There’s something about Springsteen that inspires this devotion. Certainly the warm-up acts tried to plug into that heady power source: Diesel aka Mark Lizotte cranked out his hits such as Cry In Shame and Tip of My Tongue and the recently re-formed Jet pulled out their own stadium stoppers – Cold Hard Bitch, Roll Over DJ, Bring it on Back, Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Rip it Up and more. But, in truth, they were only chipping away at the edges of our attention: we were waiting for the man.
And he’s here – to have a blast. After the opener, he launches into Badlands with its big shouty chorus. Despite the vast field of people, it’s like being in your favourite neighbourhood bar, swilling beer and singing along to a band of old friends as they break into I Fought the Law and Mary’s Place.
Springsteen spars, mugs and fools around with his buddies, particularly the perennially scarved guitarist Steven Van Zandt. The two riff along to You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch) and, during Rosalita (Come Out Tonight), Van Zandt stands behind him, looping his arms through Springsteen’s before slapping, teasing and tapping the face that launched a million teen dreams.
Apart from Van Zandt, almost all of the long-serving members of the E Street Band are in attendance: bassist Garry Tallent, keyboardist Roy Bittan, drummer Max Weinberg and guitarist Nils Lofgren. Only Patti Scialfa, Springsteen’s guitarist wife, is missing – although her close friend violinist Soozie Tyrell steps up, taking centre stage on a stirring singalong rendition of Waitin’ on a Sunny Day.
Also notably absent is the late saxophonist Clarence Clemons, who died in 2011. The band pays tribute to their old friend with their 1975 song Tenth Avenue Freeze-out, his nephew Jake Clemons now taking on sax duties.
The E Street Band is well rehearsed across Springsteen’s vast 40-year-back catalogue. They need to be, with Springsteen happily taking requests from the audience before launching straight into them.
The pace is non-stop: he chases I’m Goin’ Down (“down, down, down”) with a ripsnorting Hungry Heart. Even the purists aren’t disappointed: lesser known songs such as None but the Brave and Death to My Hometown are just a guitar switch and a “1… 2… 3… 4” away.
Much has been written about Springsteen’s fans’ devotion. While there are undoubtedly countless reasons for it – not least his politics, which aren’t on show tonight – a large part comes down to his ability to connect to the struggles and tiny triumphs of life.
Like everyone swaying or jiggling awkwardly in a soggy field, I’ve wept big indulgent tears and nodded ruefully along with his tunes. Somehow he has elevated these shabby times in our lives into something with greater meaning, something that bonds us all. He may be a gazillionaire but hey, we’re all in this together.
And man, he wants us to feel every beat tonight, galvanising us with Working on the Highway, then Glory Days, then Darlington County, before a crowd-rousing version of the song he wrote with Patti Smith, Because the Night. As he told the New Yorker in 2012, he wants his audience to leave “with your hands hurting, your feet hurting, your back hurting, your voice sore and your sexual organs stimulated!”
As he has done throughout this tour and many others, he hauls audience members onto the stage. There’s the wide-eyed pre-tween girl in a Born in the USA T-shirt, clutching his hand as she sings along to Waitin’ on a Sunny Day; the long-haired dude who plays No Surrender as well as he promised, alongside Springsteen; and the lucky denim shorts, white singlet-wearing tanned brunette who gets to stand in for Courteney Cox in Dancing in the Dark, among them.
More than two-and-a-half hours in, Springsteen breaks into a marathon, fast-paced version of the Isley Brothers’ Shout. Sensing the approaching finale, the crowd fist pumps and foot stomps on command. Channeling a gospel preacher, he commands the near-frenzied crowd to “go home tonight and call yo’ neighbours and tell them you’ve seen the legendary, pants-shaking, earth-quaking E Street Band.” The crowd hollers back in appreciation before we all slow for a beat and a few deep breaths.
One more tune (Bobby Jean), then Springsteen ushers the band off the stage. Lowering the harmonica headpiece over his ears, he slings an acoustic guitar over his shoulders and steps up one last time to the microphone, alone in the spotlight.
Those first few bars on the harmonica ring out and we hold our breath as he sings the opening lines to Thunder Road:
“The screen door slams, Mary’s dress waves”.
My throat tightens, tears prickle the edges of my eyes and a swell of emotion sweeps through the crowd as everyone joins in:
“So you’re scared and you’re thinking that maybe we ain’t that young anymore;
“Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night”
And then it’s all over. One or two bellow for “just one more song” over the thunderous applause but most of us are sated by three hours of music, almost 30 songs and layers of old emotions unsettled.
The lights come up and we trundle back to the cars, the buses, the minutiae of daily lives; yet, for three hours, he lifted us above it all.
Published in Guardian Australia on 20 February 2017 as Magic in the night: Bruce Springsteen closes his Australian tour in the sodden Hunter Valley
