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Complex Numbers #548372 added November 11, 2007 at 10:19am
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The Day
And so we're finally here.
In a rare example of good timing, Kirstin and I finished watching The Sopranos last night, ending the last episode
| What the FUCK was up with that STUPID ending, anyway? |
Fortunately, one of the guys talking about it was cast member and E Street Band guitarist Steve Van Zandt. Now, I always liked Miami Steve (or Little Steven, or just plain Steve) - his guitar work was always spot on, and the interaction between him and Bruce on stage is part of the dynamics that make Bruce concerts great. Now, in the early 80s, Steve left the Band - amicably, by all reports - to pursue a solo career; he was "replaced" by Nils Lofgren for the BitUSA tour (now, they're both in the band). He did solo work during that time, as well as working with other musicians.
He's also a radio show host, and is program director for some satellite radio channels, and has been involved in social and political activism throughout his career.
But in the Sopranos interview, he said something to the effect of, "No one comes up to me and says, 'I'm a fan.' 90 percent - no, 100 percent of the time, they come up to me and say, 'Hey, I really like your work; I'm a big fan of Bruce.'" He didn't say it with anger or regret, just kind of matter-of-fact, but it made me think - especially since I would have been one of those people, had I ever met him.
I was thinking, what must it be like, to always live in the shadow of someone else, like that? And it's not just him - Clarence Clemons, who is probably more associated with E Street Band than anyone else, has his own solo work out. I have one of his albums, and it's pretty amazing stuff. Roy Bittan, the band's keyboard player - well, Bittan has played with some of my favorite artists, including Bob Seger, Dire Straits and Meat Loaf, and is the only E Streeter to work with Bruce when there was no E Street Band; Roy seems to be one of those guys who's always in the background, though he's probably the best rock and roll keyboardist ever (with the possible exception of Billy Joel, though it's a stretch to call most of Joel's music "rock," however great it is). And surely you know - hell, even I know this and I don't watch TV - about Max Weinberg's work with Conan O'Brien on late night television. Let's not forget to mention Bruce's wife, Patti Scialfa, who has her own solo career (how she finds time for one is beyond me). These people, and the rest of the Band - Garry Tallent, Nils Lofgren, Soozie Tyrell, Danny Federici - are all accomplished musicians in their own right, and yet they live - perhaps even choose to live - in the shadow of Bruce.
I don't know; they're just people, like you and me, like everyone, and they have their own talents, their own heartbreaks, their own joys, triumphs, losses and insecurites. As much as we like to put celebrities and sports figures up on pedestals, that's something I always try to remember. I can joke around about Bruce being God, but I know it's a joke. What it comes down to, what's really important, is quite simple: I like the music. That's all. I have no musical talent myself, though I have had some training - enough to be impressed.
Life can change quickly. I have few regrets, and mostly they involve music: that I never got a good recording of Boyd Tinsley's pre-Dave Matthews Band work; that I never saw Pink Floyd live, back when they were all getting along; that I never saw the original Led Zeppelin in concert; and that I never had any musical talent of my own. Part of the spice of life is that it may change suddenly, so you have to appreciate what you have when you have it, seize opportunities when they come your way, and, mostly, make choices that you don't regret later. You make your own music, and you put it down on vinyl or plastic, and then it's frozen for all time, warts and all, except when sometimes you can drag it out and play it for a few thousand people. For some of us, those opportunities come only rarely; for others, it's a living. And if you can look back at your body of work and say, "I touched a few lives for the better," then you've achieved a kind of immortality.
As Neil Young pointed out, rock and roll will never die.
I want a thousand guitars
I want pounding drums
I want a million different voices speaking in tongues
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
Is there anybody alive out there?
I was driving through the misty rain
Searchin' for a mystery train
Boppin' through the wild blue
Tryin' to make a connection to you
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
Is there anybody alive out there? |
© Copyright 2007 Robert Waltz (UN: cathartes02 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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