The ‘for one night only’ showing of the movie ‘Springsteen
and I’ in cinemas around the UK on 22 July will have attracted an audience of
dedicated fans. The creation of this
‘crowd sourced’ film has been known in the world of Bruce fandom for some time,
and many people whose contributions didn’t make the cut will have submitted
their home made videos explaining what Bruce means to them. I considered getting involved; after all I
have been a fan since the 1970s; I love his work and live shows and have twice
contributed papers to an international academic symposium on Bruce (Glory Days,
at Monmouth University, New Jersey). But
this was different. Telling the world
what Bruce means to me was somehow just too personal, too emotional, and perhaps
just a little weird. I’m not obsessive
(no really, I’m not), but his music has been a soundtrack to my life – to highs
and deep lows, and it is something that gives me huge comfort and energy. But as soon as you start to put it into words
there is an element of the train spotter trying to explain their hobby to a
nonplussed world.
But I was curious to see the film and immediately recognised
so many of the sentiments and reactions of others describing what Bruce means
to them in three words and hearing the repeated refrains around: joy; passion;
commitment; hard work; integrity; dignity; honesty etc. A minority of contributors were focused on
the physicality or sexiness of the man himself – the vast majority spoke about
the music and the power of feeling connected to major life issues:
relationships; work; struggles to make ends meet; responsibility and belief.
There was a lot of laughter in the audience – some of it at
the warm recognition of sentiments they also hold, and some of it in appalled response
to statements from those at the more extreme end of the spectrum (such as the
woman who coached her young child to say ‘Daddy’ when shown pictures of
Bruce). The biggest laughs were probably
for the long suffering husband of a woman from Manchester who drags himself
along to the shows because he loves his wife but really doesn’t get Bruce and
just longs for each performance to end so that they can get the train home.
The most joyous moments were those shared by fans who had
managed to have a personal experience with Bruce – like the girl who had
fulfilled her dream to ‘be his Courteney Cox’ and danced with him on stage
during Dancing in the Dark. Or the show
in Philadelphia where fan and Elvis impersonator Nick Ferraro turns up in full
costume and a sign asking if the King can perform with the Boss, and Bruce
invites him on stage. The look of
astonishment on Bruce’s face, and more especially on Nils Lofgren’s, during the
performance of ‘All shook up’ was priceless.
Once he got started Nick was reluctant to surrender his moment in the
limelight and Bruce brought proceedings to a close after the second impromptu
song with a joking but firm directive that ‘Elvis has left the building!’ Springsteen seems to
understand the importance of these moments in fans’ lives and to get pleasure from
being part of them. He too knows what it
is to be a fan and to have heroes – the time when he finally shared a stage
with Paul McCartney at the finale to his performance at London’s Hard Rock
Calling in July 2012 (before it was hit by the curfew and the show organisers
pulled the plug), saw Bruce smitten with the same giddy joy and disbelief
(“I’ve waited about 50 years for this moment”) that his own fans habitually
exhibit.
People think they know Springsteen because they know his
songs. His fans often think he
understands their lives because they recognise their situations in his
stories. And there is some truth in
that, and the manner in which he allows fans to connect to him only builds and
intensifies such attachments. The man in
the film whose girlfriend finishes with him the day before they were going to a
Bruce gig goes on his own but makes a sign to tell Bruce (and everyone else) he
has just been dumped, and Bruce spots the sign and immediately recognises this
universal pain. He invites the guy on
stage, gives him a big hug and assures him that everything will be OK. It is both touching and funny and relieved of
becoming too mawkish when Bruce turns the moment around by telling the
audience he has been dumped by girlfriends in the past, before adding ‘bet
they’re sorry now!’
What must Bruce make of all this attention? If he is embarrassed by it, he hides it well;
it seems that he has created a persona of ‘Bruce Springsteen’ that he
recognises is different from the person he is, but nonetheless has a lot of his
characteristics. And there is a large
part of him that needs and craves for what he gets back from the audience. On stage he often adopts the style of a
revivalist preacher in stoking up the crowd’s emotional intensity; it creates
an energy which he draws on to sustain him through the legendary extended sets,
but it also connects him on an almost primal level. Some of the detailed close up shots of
Springsteen on stage reveal a man hugely moved by the experience and almost
overwhelmed by his sense of connection both to those on stage around him, but
also to his audience. And it seems
entirely genuine.
The epilogue to the film provided the most revealing and
touching story of how Bruce had watched the rushes of the film and apparently decided
to give something back. A group of fans
who have told their stories in the film are given surprise backstage
invitations and get to meet their hero.
One of these, a Danish fan (John) who has told the story of how as a
nine year old boy he first saw Bruce perform describes how great it was to meet
him, and then adds an extraordinary anecdote.
Having met with the group Bruce leaves the room, but returns shortly
afterwards as if he had forgotten something, and he heads straight for John and
wraps him in an intense hug. They stare
at each other, and John thinks Bruce wants to tell him something but can’t, and
then Bruce unwinds the leather cord from his own wrist and places it around
John’s and tells him it is “for brotherhood”.
It is an intensely emotional moment for John to recount, and for the
audience to share, and a perfect – extraordinary - coda to the entire film.
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