Boss Time

Today I have a hangover, sore legs, neck and back. I have a headache that won’t go away, and I’m downright drained. I feel like I’ve went five seconds with Mike Tyson’s pinkie toe.

I woke up this morning looking like a contender for bum fights. I was wrapped in the Scottish flag, pakora sauce in my beard, and my hair was stuck to my face. The only sound emanating from my lips was a low guttural moan usually found on the lips of the lamest zombie.

Although I am hanging like a wet washing, I am also very, very happy. I’m the cat that got the cream, I am the morning after the awe inspiring, world shaking, Viagra taking, E-Street Band finally came to Scotland.

Mr Springsteen’s last appearance in Scotland was back in the 80’s, when he played Edinburgh on The Ghost of Tom Joad tour. This obviously bothered me, and my wallet. Any time he would tour, he’d miss out Scotland in favour of Cardiff, Manchester and London.

I’ve always known that he would get a great reception here, and I was not wrong.

I made it to Hampden Park for 11am yesterday. The doors opened at 5.30pm, so I had a few hours of waiting, drinking, singing, waiting and being rained on. I seemed to have had acquired a flag, a cowboy hat and some new friends in those fun hours. By the time the turnstiles opened, I was soaking, and in very good humour.

When we got through the turnstiles, we had to climb a set of stairs, and run down more stairs to get to the standing area on the pitch.

People were running down the stairs, and across the pitch to get to the cordoned off area in front of the stage. Luckily, Shona and I were one of the first there, so we managed to get a spot right down the front. If you’ve ever been down the front at a gig, you’ll know it’s the best and worse seat in the house. It’s amazing from the music point of view. You can’t get closer to the action unless you were on stage yourself, and the chances of interacting with the Boss are very high. All good things, but try and get a beer, or go for a pee! Then try to get back down the front again!

I’ve always been a believer in polite, truthful, and charming methods to get you back down the front at a gig. However, there’s always some tosser that likes to elbow you, because he thinks you’re just trying to push your way to the front. Some people don’t handle crowds well. To them I cast a look that is reminiscent of howling mad Murdoch mixed with grizzly Adams.

Anywhoo, to the gig.

Tens of thousands of Scots cheered as Nils Lofgren, walked out on stage and started playing Flower of Scotland on his harpsichord. The same tens of thousands rose in one voice and sung our national anthem. An uplifting start to a rock gig, that was all down to one man and a harpsichord! Honestly, it was like the first time I saw the E –Street Band in Dublin. Thousands of people all waiting on a big kick off to the show, and Bruce comes out with his 12 string and does an acoustic version of Born in the USA. I was knee deep in joy that day, and it was the same last night.

After Nils milked the crowd of the anthem one more time, Bruce and the band came on and jumped straight into Badlands, and the night’s greatness was set in stone.

Classic followed classic, and Outlaw Pete, among others, was given an outing from his new album. Half way through the gig, Bruce began grabbing signs people made with songs on them. He piled them on stage and chose some at random. First up was Incident on 57th street, then Pink Cadillac. He insisted on playing the first 30 seconds of it himself, which on his first go he messed up. He laughed at himself and said, “What the fuck is that cord again?” He went on to smoke the song, while prancing about the stage with Steve Van Zandt like a couple of teenagers.

His encore was tremendous. Born to run, Thunder road and This land, all were played, and all were adored. However, the biggest surprise of the night had to be his son joining him on stage. He looked proud as punch, and his kid loved every second of it. I predict huge things for Springsteen Jnr. He’s a handsome young guy, and he plays a mean guitar. Add that to the fact that his dad is the best live act in the world, and he can’t fail to be a success.

So today I don’t care that I’m lying around on the sofa writing this blog entry because I’m to weak to play Final fantasy. I don’t care if my brain still feels like mush, and my ears are still buzzing. I’m even happy that it took me two hours to get home last night, when I live ten minutes away by train. It was all worth it for that few hours I got to share the same stadium with the Boss. A true legend of a man.