In 2004, I found out that I was too old for a Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band arena show. Sitting in the nose bleed section of Shea Stadium with beer guzzling Springsteen fans yelling BROOCE just wasn’t that much fun. It seemed like the band was miles away. Only the gigantic television screens conveyed something of what was going on. My friend and I actually left before the encores, eager to beat the crowds on the number 7 train.

And I’m a huge fan of his music. My interest in Springsteen harks back to the early 1970’s when my father gave me a stack of records by performers being heralded as "the new Bob Dylan,"which included Loudon Wainwright’s first self-named album, The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle, and Waiting for the Sky by Jackson Brown.  Wainwright was probably my favorite of the three at the time.  But during college, I grew to love Springsteen’s masterful second album, especially songs like Rosalita and New York Serenade.

After the 2004 Shea Stadium show, I was dubious about seeing him live again. But when my good friend Toby, a major Springsteen aficionado, asked me if I wanted to see Springsteen play a pump organ while stamping his foot for rhythm on a board, I had to say yes.

Toby and I left Brooklyn for Bridgeport at 4 p.m. Wednesday and it was stop-and-go traffic all the way. Why Bridgeport? Because it was the only New York area show. It took us three hours to get to there, but it was worth the trip.

Solo Springsteen is my kind of Springsteen.

Springsteen pure and simple. Minimal. Reduced to the  bare essentials: emotive, even explosive singing; a real sense of narrative and evocative images in the songs; a highly dramatic performance style. With an almost minimalist approach, he was able to keep the fans transfixed for much of the evening.

Springsteen works hard for his money. He performed for two and a half hours alternating between 6 and 12 string acoustic guitars, electric guitar, harmonica, pump organ, electric piano and grand piano.

I felt like I was in Springsteen’s living room listening to the kind of music he plays when he’s really in the mood to play. Performing only his own songs, the stylistic influences  included  Delta blues, work songs, Woody Guthrie ballads, Dylan in a big way, Patti Smith, Roy Orbison and a little Joni Mitchell thrown in because of Springsteen’s penchant for open tunings on his guitar. His acoustic guitar playing was a revelation – he banged the strings, hit the guitar, and used a bottle neck to create overtones. Sometimes it sounded  like a sitar or some middle eastern instrument.

Considering that there were 5000 or so people at the sold-out show, it was a very intimate evening that demanded fair amount of concentration. Springsteen insisted that the concession stands be closed during the show, that nobody exit or enter during a song, and that the audience not hoot, holler, or yell BROOCE during the songs.

A few rowdy audience members could not contain themselves and Springsteen was quick to throw a tough curse their way, with a smile.

The ride back to Brooklyn took half
as much time as the ride up. In the full moon night, we drove down on scary 95, which
felt like a racetrack with the daredevil  motorcyclists and trucks
constantly roaring by. We discussed the concert all the way to Park Slope going over every detail in depth. During the show, Toby kept a list of the songs on an envelope. Here it is. Just for fun, check it against the list on Backstreets, the Springsteen fansite.

Into the Fire, Devils and Dust, Long Time Coming, Highway 29, Empty Sky, The Promise, All That Heaven Allows, The River, State Trooper, Nebraska, Maria’s Bed, Reno, Racing in the Streets, Lost in the Flood, the Rising, Spare Parts, Jesus Was An Only Son, Should I Fall Behind, The Hitter, Matamoros Banks, Ramrod, Bobby Jean, Land of Hope and Dreams, Promised Land and Dream Baby Dream.