The Monmouth Arts Center,
Red Bank, NJ
presents...
BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN
& THE E STREET BAND
1st August 1976
2nd August 1976
3rd August 1976
5th August 1976
6th August 1976
7th August 1976
" In August 1976, Bruce and the E Street
Band played a series of shows at
the Monmouth Arts Center in Red Bank, New Jersey.
I don't remember which
show I attended, but I believe it must have been during
the last half of the
six-music business of the kind usually reserved for
Rolling Stones tours or
new Bob Dylan albums. In fact, the anticipation and
excitement were similar
to the effect of Bruce's weeklong stint of shows at
the Bottom Line in New
York in 1975, with one crucial difference: Out there
in Red Bank, he was no
longer the crusading knight coming to convert the
infidels; he was drawing
all the movers and shakers right into his own turf,
deep in the heart of
Jersey.
I remember the stage lights being
incredibly theatrical, like nothing
I'd ever seen at a concert before: West Side Story
with a rock 'n' roll
attitude. Streams of pin lights rained down as Bruce
moaned his sorrowful
ballads, and then suddenly the stage was awash in
jubilant moving color for
his transcendent rockers. The E Street band had jelled
into one of the
tightest bands around with even their individual monikers
moving into mythic
territory. Little Steven, Mighty Max, the Big Man.
This was nohot band of
studio cats backing a gifted singer-songwriter - it
was a goodgodalmighty
rock 'n' roll review, complete with a horn section
and a front man who was
not afraid to move or sweat.
Bruce Springsteen was riveting that
night, performing longer and
stronger than anyone I'd ever seen before. By the
end of the night, all the
jaded music-biz pooh-bahs were up on their feet dancing.
I believe Bruce had
taken a long leap of faith to get to that triumphant
moment in theMonmouth
Arts Center, and now he was pulling us all with him
over to the promised
land. No longer sporting his beard, he looked as fresh
and vulnerable as
James Dean, dressed in an electric-blue '50s blazer
and dancing as loose as
Elvis Presley in Jailhouse Rock. Bruce performed cinematic
originals like
"Thunder Road" with Brando-like intensity, playing
the lead role in every
song-story he wrote. Even when he covered classics
like the Animals' "It's
My Life," it was as if the songs were written
for nobody but that Jersey
boy, on that stage, that night.
The interplay between Bruce and
Clarence Clemons was what American race
relations always should have been: They laughed, cheered,
hugged and kissed
each other. Can I saw it was Huckleberry Finn and
his cohort, Jim, all over
again and still be politically correct? Although now
Jim was free as a bird,
blowing sax like King Curtis, lifting his boy Huck
higher and higher till he
was prancing on the piano top. That night the Mississippi
River was reborn
as the Garden State Parkway, and we all crowded onto
the raft as if our very
lives depended on it.
I recall the scene in the dressing
room after the show: Bruce surrounded
by music-biz honchos, seeming as if he'd rather be
anywhere else but there.
We were finally introduced, and neither of us could
think of anything
momentous to say to each other. Finally, I asked if
he wanted a beer - one
of his own dressing-room beers - and after serious
reflection, he replied,
"Yeah, I'll take a taste." I thought that was pretty
cool. Still do. "
Elliott Murphy, Paris 1998
Published in Live Magazine April 1998
