Last night on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, Bruce Springsteen once again dug out one of his old outfits to sing with Fallon. This time, the two did a new version of “Born to Run,” poking fun at New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie’s recent Bridgegate problems regarding his administration’s involvement in closing down the George Washington Bridge to punish a New Jersey mayor. “Governor let me in, I wanna be your friend. . . .” Check it out.
It had to be a tough blow for Gov. Christie, who notoriously is a huge Springsteen fan even though Springsteen generally sits on the other side of the political divide. But the song is pretty funny.
What is your favorite Springsteen-Fallon collaboration? Leave your two cents in the comments.
Although that day saw the first commercial release, the joint work of Sony and Philips created the new music format several years earlier before the technology became commercially available.
Partly because of a high price tag on the new technology, cassette tapes remained more popular than CDs until the late 1980s. But the CD format eventually took over.
The CD changed the way we listen to music. It featured longer playing times than record albums all in a compact size.
The CD also featured what many thought was a better sound than other formats, although that issue is still debated. The CD format is still very popular, and digital sales did not surpass CD sales until 2015.
Whatever the future holds, take a moment to salute the CD format. It originally gave us great music listening experiences through the 1980s, the 1990s, and into the current century. And I do miss CD stores.
In tribute, lets go back to someone plopping down the big bucks thirty years ago and buying that first CD and turning it on to hear that first song, “Big Shot”. . .
My personal encounter with CDs was still a few years away on that October day in 1982. I recall hearing music on a friend’s CD player for one of the first times years later, around 1986. And I got my first player a few years later. At that time, I made my first CD purchase of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run.
Last night in Gothenburg, Sweden, E Street Band history was made as Bruce Springsteen performed “Jungleland” for the first time on the new tour without the late Clarence Clemons. But the family name lives on as Clemons’s nephew — and new band member — Jake Clemons carried on the family tradition of evoking the pain and joy of the song. Below is his solo in “Jungleland,” which was the next-to-last song of the night (you may watch the entire song from a much further distance here):
“Jungleland will forever be associated with the Big Man Clarence Clemons, but it would have been a disservice to him to abandon the great song after his passing. Although we already had seen Jake play the song with another band in another setting, Springsteen did the right thing by waiting a short time and then bringing the song back with Jake as an unexpected surprise. As you can see in the video, at the end of the big solo, the crowd shows its appreciation. It was a bittersweet moment, as everyone was happy for Jake but also sad to be reminded of Clarence’s absence.
There is only one thing to do in the face of such sadness in life. Pause for a moment, and then get up to dance to the show closer “Twist and Shout.”
What do you think of the new “Jungleland”? Leave your two cents in the comments.
Last night, I was working late when the news broke about Clarence Clemons passing away. I already had a Clemons-related post about his most recent work ready to run but instead pushed that post back to pay tribute to the Big Man with the video of “Paradise by the C,” one of the rare instrumental songs in the Springsteen canon. I was going to leave it at that, as there are several excellent articles out there about Clemons, but I will share one memory. (The other Clemons-related post will run in a few days).
After I left work last night, I flipped around the New York radio stations to hear some songs by the E Street Band, finally hitting on one playing a block of songs that featured Clemons. When I got home and parked my car, I sat in the car with the engine off, listening to the radio play “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out” and “Backstreets.” But when the radio station began playing “Jungleland,” I had to turn it off because I could not hear that song so close to the news of the Big Man’s passing.
Like many people, “Jungleland” is one of the first things I think of when I think of Clemons. It is off Born to Run, my favorite album. The Born to Run LP is one of the few physical albums from my youth that I still own due to space limitations as I converted to CDs and then MP3s. Hopefully, my sister is not reading this post, as I obtained the album pictured at the top when I borrowed it from her more than three decades ago. The album has great music and that iconic cover of Bruce and Clarence that is a photo of human connection. As Springsteen once noted, “When you open [the album cover] up and see Clarence and me together, the album begins to work its magic.”
Parody is flattery.
The album has been there for me through many periods of my life. While I was in school, I listened to “Born to Run” right before every exam to psych myself up. There were times when I was angry and played “Thunder Road” just to sing along to the line, “it’s a town full of losers, I’m pulling out of here to win.” If you cut me open and look at my soul, you will see every song from Born to Run embedded in there somewhere.
But the reason “Jungleland” stands out for me is because of a concert at Richfield Coliseum outside Cleveland in the early 1980s. It was the first large concert I ever attended, and it would ruin all future non-Springsteen concerts because nothing would ever come close. That night, I was in a transition period of my life from school to a new job, and I was unsure what lay ahead for me. Inside the coliseum, though, I was blown away by the E Street Band, and the moment that capped it all was the sax solo during “Jungleland.” As Clemons blew his horn, the lights hit the crowd and thousands of people stood in unison pumping their fists in time with the music. I know it is cliche and corny, but that one moment signifies the power of rock and roll to me, with a community of people bonding at once, feeling hope, resignation, fear, and defiance all together in our lives. My words cannot capture what I felt then or what I still feel thinking about those minutes. But that is the reason we need music — to capture those feelings we cannot describe in words.
And so, last night, I could not listen to “Jungleland,” knowing that the man who played the saxophone that night was now dead. Unfortunately, I have lost track of the close friends who were with me at the concert that night. Yet, Clemons and the band have stayed with me through the years. I had never met Clemons and did not know him personally, so it may be foolish to mourn someone others would label “a stranger” when there are so many good people who die every day. But my connection to Clemons is a bond with the human community where even in our differences, we remain connected. At least it was for that July night in Ohio, many years ago. And I still felt that connection with the man who died last night. Thank you Clarence.
