The Boss

Early on in life, I had little interest in music. I never tried to learn any instruments and had little interest in even listening to music. I tuned into Radio Disney mostly to fit in with the other kids my age (I’ll never forgive myself for that).

That changed at the age of 12. I had moved from California to “Seattle,” with my father remaining in San Francisco. I was no longer able to visit my father on a weekly basis as I had before. It was also around that time that I started listening to the same music my father did.

Looking back on it now, I think it was a subconscious effort on my part to remain close to my father. The music I paid the most attention to was that of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

Some of my earliest childhood memories are of Springsteen songs. I grew up with “Hungry Heart,” “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out,” “Adam Raised a Cain,” “Darkness on the Edge of Town,” “Born in the U.S.A.,” “Atlantic City,” and “Rosalita (Come Out Tonight).” I heard it constantly, but never appreciated it.

I'm not sure a stronger bond now exists between my father and me than our mutual love and admiration for Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

(For those of you who think I have a Springsteen problem, my dad once said of the album Darkness on the Edge of Town: “It’s my opus; even though I didn’t make it.”)

Born in the U.S.A. was the first album I truly listened to all the way through, and I did so repeatedly. I was too young to fully appreciate Springsteen's lyrics and the messages he delivered on the album – working class struggles, disillusionment over fame and success, struggling to maintain friendship and love – but what really caught my attention was the sound of the album. It was a sound I heard again and again on other Springsteen albums I subsequently picked up. The River; The Rising; The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle; Darkness on the Edge of Town; and Born to Run.

Even though the sound subtly changed from the soulful, R&B inspired Wild & Innocent to the straight ahead rock of Born to Run to the gospel infused The Rising, this was clearly a top notch band that knew how to play together and complement one another. That was the sound that came across so well. A team, a band of brothers, put together to share stories through the power of music.

My love of the albums led me to find video and audio bootlegs of concerts from the past. I watched and listened to the playful interactions of Bruce, Clarence, Stevie, and the rest of the band – telling and re-enacting stories together, hamming it up for the crowd, and generally causing a ruckus. You haven’t seen rock n roll until you’ve seen an E Street Band concert (8 and counting for myself).

You could tell how the band played off each other so well. How they were all separate individuals that combined to form a perfect whole. The camaraderie Bruce shares with the E Street Band is unsurpassable. It is especially apparent following the deaths of two founding band members in recent years. Despite the heartbreak of losing two of his closest friends, Bruce still commands the band with the same spirit as before. They still go out together and play for the crowd, for themselves, for their blood brothers that have passed on, and for the love of rock n roll.

The music was the band’s product as a whole, but the stories themselves were all Bruce. At first they were stories of his own experiences. His romanticized love of New York City and the Jersey Shore, those rebellious teenage years (that in his case became rebellious 20-something years, and rebellious 30-something years, and so on), the struggles of growing up poor in New Jersey, and the haunting figure of his own father – a man frequently out of work, out of money, out of patience, lacking love, and generally unsatisfied with life.

As the band formed and grew, and Springsteen started touring the country wide, he saw the similarities that stretched from sea to sea and border to border. Everywhere people yearn for more and make do with what they have. He saw all the glory, splendor, and decay of America. He self-educated himself on American and music history.

Through this learning, more stories formed. Stories that no longer were restricted to the familiar settings of the East Coast, but stories that could take place anywhere – from Youngstown, Ohio to San Diego, California. Springsteen himself has said his music is about, “bridging the gap between the American Dream and American Reality.”

I said music once meant very little to me. Today music is among the things I cherish most. The E Street Band taught me to appreciate music. Listening to music is by far my favorite method of killing time or relaxing – few things are more soothing than good music, and I happen to think Bruce Springsteen is the best.

I now appreciate Springsteen's songs just as much for the messages and stories within them as the sound of them. I easily identify with the characters he depicts as they struggle to enjoy the little things in life in an otherwise tough, even downright cruel, world. The human element to Bruce's music is now my primary factor in declaring him the best. He walks the fine line between sad poet and fun-loving rocker. But I know I might never have come to this realization without first becoming enamored with the sound of Clarence Clemons wailing saxophone, Roy Bittan's tinkling piano, Max Weinberg's pounding drums, Gary Tallent's heavy bass, or Danny Federici's mournful organ.

I know a great many could care less what I think on the matter. I'm sure plenty of people that read this will scoff and chuckle to themselves about Dylan's silly obsession with Bruce and his band. I'm OK with that. Friends have been playfully teasing me for years about my dogged devotion to Bruce and the E Streeters. Hell, I'm now one of the first to make jokes about my love of the band.  But nothing is going to change that.

Just like the people I consider to be my best and most cherished friends, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band have been with me through the good times and the bad times. No matter how low I’ve felt, Bruce and the gang could cheer me up with a fun song or remind me my life isn't THAT bad with a depressing tale or two (never listen to Nebraska if you are already in a bad mood. You'll wind up suicidal by the end of the album).

That is how I come to believe and trust in my true friends – not how good they treat me when things are well, but are they still around when I need them most? Bruce and the band have definitely been there for me (albeit indirectly) through every dark period of my life.

And so there you have it. The answer many friends of mine have wondered for years, “Why is Dylan so freaking obsessed with this Bruce guy?” It’s the stories. It’s the music. It’s the emotions poured out in both. It’s the brotherhood and commitment of the band. And above all else, it is the shared bond between a father and son – my father and myself.