27 years on ...
Jun. 1st, 2008 02:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themis1As Broooce arrived on the stage at the Emirates Stadium on Friday night, I heard myself say rather wistfully, "Whatever happened to those 27 years?"
Wembley Arena, 1981. The start of more than half a lifetime of concert attendances, all over England. And two very different concerts this year, on two consecutive nights, at Emirates Stadium, London. Friday we were lower down, the sound quality was poor, but everyone in our block danced the night away with the result I limped painfully back to the hotel. Saturday, we had front row balcony seats almost square on to the stage, sound quality superb (despite the fractional Stadium lag), but I had to save the dancing for the encores since I knew I had to get back to where we'd left our car, and then drive back home.
None of which expresses the sheer joy of watching Springsteen and the E Street Band. Or the rawness of my throat from screaming lyrics back at the stage. Or the absolute delight of singing Thunder Road on Friday night (even if I do seem to have misplaced a few of the lyrics - if I had a decent memory, I might have been dangerous). If I could bottle that moment somewhere in the middle of Born to Run ... well, I'll just have to store it mentally to spit in the face of the next miserable moment.
Thanks, Brooce, and thanks, E Street Band.
Wembley Arena, 1981. The start of more than half a lifetime of concert attendances, all over England. And two very different concerts this year, on two consecutive nights, at Emirates Stadium, London. Friday we were lower down, the sound quality was poor, but everyone in our block danced the night away with the result I limped painfully back to the hotel. Saturday, we had front row balcony seats almost square on to the stage, sound quality superb (despite the fractional Stadium lag), but I had to save the dancing for the encores since I knew I had to get back to where we'd left our car, and then drive back home.
None of which expresses the sheer joy of watching Springsteen and the E Street Band. Or the rawness of my throat from screaming lyrics back at the stage. Or the absolute delight of singing Thunder Road on Friday night (even if I do seem to have misplaced a few of the lyrics - if I had a decent memory, I might have been dangerous). If I could bottle that moment somewhere in the middle of Born to Run ... well, I'll just have to store it mentally to spit in the face of the next miserable moment.
Thanks, Brooce, and thanks, E Street Band.
