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One, two, three, four.
I'm in the middle of a 45-year conversation
with these men and women I'm surrounded by and with some of you.
Now, with some of you, I suppose, we've only recently started speaking.
But either way,
I've tried to make that conversation essential, fun and entertaining.
I started playing the guitar
because I was looking for someone to speak to and correspond with.
I guess that worked out better than my wildest dreams.
All I know is after all this time,
I still feel that burning need to communicate.
It's there when I wake every morning.
It walks alongside of me throughout the day.
And it's there when I go to sleep each night.
Over the past 50 years, it's never once ceased.
Owing to what, I don't really know.
Is it loneliness, hunger, ego, ambition, desire,
a need to be felt and heard, recognized,
all of the above?
All I know is that it's one of the most consistent impulses in my life.
As reliable as the rhythmic beating of my own heart
is my need to talk to you.
Gentlemen, congregate.
Get your notepads. Start your notepads.
Get your notepads and congregate.
My notepad. Got it.
Better than yours.
Man, it's snowing.
-It is. -It's snowing.
Last night I was sitting outside till nine o'clock in my front yard by the fire.
Today, it's snowing.
That's Jersey weather in the fall.
The end of it, anyway.
-Eight bars of one, right? -Yes.
Then two bars of six, two bars of one, two bars of four.
Neath a crowd of mongrel trees
I pulled that bothersome thread
Got down on my knees Grabbed my pen and bowed my head
Tried to summon All that my heart finds true
And send it in my letter to you
All right, try it.
One, two. One, two, three, four.
No foot yet.
I think we're going too long there, Roy.
I think it's one, two, three, four. One chord.
Roy, you're going to the E minor too soon.
-That's the breakdown. -No--
Not--
Yeah, there-- Yeah, there's... eight bars of one.
The E Street Band is a finely tuned instrument
of great flexibility and power.
One, two, three. One chord.
They can float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.
Our years of playing together
have created a shorthand and an efficiency in the studio
comparable to that of a finely tuned racing engine.
Foot.
We are a unit 45 years in the making, decades in the refining,
and we bring that power to bear when we engage with you.
Neath a crowd of mongrel trees I pulled that bothersome thread
Wait, wait, wait.
The intro progression is only the intro progression.
It never happens again. Then you gotta stick with the song.
We perform in service to our audience.
The pay is great, but you're the reason we're here.
That's big news.
Now, there's one thing we could try.
In my letter to you
It is our commitment that hardens our purpose,
our sense of do or die.
It's a little extra riff, but I don't know if it's in the way.
The E Street Band is not a job. It is a vocation, a calling.
It is both one of the most important things in your life,
and, of course, it's only rock and roll.
All right, E Streeters! Let's do this thing.
These are my friends, the men and women I work with:
Steve Van Zandt...
Max Weinberg...
Roy Bittan...
Garry Tallent...
Patti Scialfa...
Nils Lofgren...
Charlie Giordano...
Soozie Tyrell...
Jake Clemons.
And there are two members in absentia...
Danny Federici and Clarence Clemons.
This is the E Street Band.
Neath a crowd of mongrel trees I pulled that bothersome thread
Got down on my knees Grabbed my pen and bowed my head
Tried to summon All that my heart finds true
And send it in my letter to you
Oh!
Things I found out Through hard times and good
I wrote 'em all out in ink and blood
Dug deep in my soul And signed my name true
And sent it in my letter to you
In my letter to you
I took all my fears and doubts
In my letter to you
All the hard things I found out
In my letter to you
All that I've found true
And I sent it in my letter to you
I took all the sunshine and rain
All my happiness and all my pain
The dark evening stars And the morning sky of blue
And I sent it in my letter to you
In my letter to you
I took all my fears and doubts
In my letter to you
All the hard things I found out
In my letter to you
All that I've found true
And I sent it in my letter to you
I sent it in my letter to you
Sounds good. Really good.
-Should we listen? -Yep.
One, two, three, four.
Roy, give it more music box, pal.
E Street, E Street, E Street!
Want me to play it up higher?
-Don't play it up higher. -Okay.
Just don't play so low.
We're having fun, damn it.
Is there a waiter in this joint?
Nope.
Well, we gotta get back on our Beatles schedule.
Three hours a song, that's it. It's what the Beatles did.
That's a good call.
If we work Saturday and Sunday, we'll get a double album.
My letter to you
All right, hold on.
For some reason my guitar is roaring, and I have no control over it.
It's just 30 times the volume of yesterday.
-We lost it. -All right, hold on.
Garry's got a problem.
All right, well, let's take a few minutes and work on it.
It's thin today. It sounds thin.
-You can just scoot those over. -Yeah.
I like it when I "doo" with him,
and then he's alone, and then I come in on top of him.
Um, was that-- Can I just hear that entrance again?
We wanna hear the harmony that's on when Bruce sings, um...
I'll see you in my dreams
This is my cousin Frank. See, make sure we get this.
Hi, guys. How are ya?
Championship jitterbug dancer of the entire Jersey Shore
and the man who taught me my first chords on the guitar.
Wow.
These are all my original guitars.
My Kent, first guitar.
You had one of those Sears and Roebuck ones, didn't you?
Uh...
George Theiss had one in the case.
Yeah. One of the--
George Theiss had one where the speaker was in the guitar.
Oh, in the guitar?
But we also had one where it was in the case.
You know, you got the Sears and Roebuck's old...
Oh, Sears.
Both horrible. The one in the guitar with--
Look, it's a speaker right here.
Horrible-sounding.
We all had one of those.
On a sunny July day,
there I stood at the bedside of my old bandmate from the Castiles,
George Theiss.
George, at 68, was in the final stages of lung cancer and lay very near death.
George was the man who dated my sister Ginny
and pulled me from my house on South Street one afternoon,
where I would embark on one of the greatest adventures of my life.
I'd join my first real band, the Castiles.
The Castiles lasted for three critical, historically explosive years
from 1965 to 1968,
an eternity in the '60s
and an epic three years of historical and cultural events.
It was a powder keg of a moment to be in a young rock and roll band.
That was a long time ago.
But some things imprint themselves on you and never let you go.
They're a life sentence.
With George's death,
I was the last living member of the mighty Castiles...
the last living member.
I thought about it... for a long time.
And those meditations ended up being the songs I've written
for Letter To You.
Music just comes.
Sometimes... and only sometimes,
this is the way it happens.
This music, these songs,
reminded me of the debt that I still owed my Freehold brothers-in-arms.
So this goes out as a deep and heartfelt thank you to Diana and George Theiss,
Bart Haynes, Frank Marziotti, Curt Fluhr,
Paul Popkin, Bob Alfano and Vinny Maniello.
My friends, bandmates and fellow students
in my first and greatest school of rock, the Castiles.
This is "Last Man Standing."
Faded pictures in an old scrapbook
Faded pictures that somebody took
When you were hard and young and proud
Backed against the wall Running raw and loud
Snakeskin vest and a sharkskin suit
Cuban heels on your boots
You kick in the band and side by side
You take the crowd on their mystery ride
Knights of Columbus and the Firemen's Ball
Friday night at the Union Hall
Black-leather clubs all along Route 9
You count the names of the missing As you count off time
Rock of ages lift me somehow
Somewhere high and hard and loud
Somewhere deep Into the heart of the crowd
I'm the last man standing now
Out of school and out of work
Thrift-store jeans and flannel shirts
The lights go down As you face the crowd
The last man standing now
Lights come up at the Legion Hall
Pool cues go back up on the wall
Pack your guitar And have one last beer
With just the ringin' in your ears
Rock of ages lift me somehow
Somewhere high and hard and loud
Somewhere deep into the heart of the crowd
I'm the last man standing now
One, two, three, four!
Hey!
That sounded like a good take. Yeah, that's good.
What do you say, bro? What do you say?
-Welcome. Welcome! -Two times was good.
The king, Jonny Boy Landau.
Ah.
Live and in person.
Gentlemen and ladies, here's to the road!
Yeah.
-San Siro! -San Siro!
-Opening in San Siro. -Oh, San Siro. Here you go.
-First of four nights. -First of four nights.
-Oh! I like that. -Right?
Four nights in San Siro.
-That's half the Italian population. -Why not?
Whoo!
-It's the entire population-- -And that's just the matinee.
-Here we go, everybody! -Yeah.
I remember one time they were singing "Promised Land" when we stopped,
and you had trouble starting the next song,
because when you hear that all together, who wants to stop that?
We played in Naples.
They were singing internal riffs of "Rosalita."
Like, the internal-- little, weird internal earworms.
Not-- You know, not the obvious ones.
Weird little ones inside the song, you know, you heard people singing.
The entire population down there is so incredibly musical.
That's where Mom and Dora and Eda and--
We are sitting here today because those are our people.
Yeah.
Frank, did you play guitar?
Uh, little bit. Not much. I'm starting back.
He's-- He's got a new guitar.
There'll be a spot for him onstage with the E Street Band one day.
If I were you, I would take advantage of that.
I know.
For me, from the beginning, pop was always a raucous meditation.
We all have our own ways of praying.
I restricted my prayers to three minutes and a 45-rpm record.
The power of pure pop, the beautiful simplicity of melody.
A complete character study in a matter of minutes.
Life in 180 seconds or less.
If you get it right, it has the power of prayer.
Dreamy afternoon neath the summer sun
We'd lie by the lake Till the evening comes
I run my fingers Through your sun-streaked hair
Baby, that's the power of prayer
Summer nights, summer's in the air
I stack the tables with the chairs
It's closing time Then you're standing there
Baby, that's the power of prayer
It's a fixed game without any rules
An empty table on a ship of fools
I'm holding hearts, I'll play the pair
Darling, it's just the power of prayer
It's a fixed game without any rules
An empty table on a ship of fools
I'm holding hearts, I'll play the pair
I'm going all in 'cause I don't care
They say that love Love comes and goes
But, darling, what, what do they know?
I'm reaching for heaven We'll make it there
Darling, it's just the power of prayer
Baby, it's just the power of prayer
Darling, it's just the power of prayer
Last call, the bouncer shuts the door
"This Magic Moment" Drifts across the floor
As Ben E. King's voice fills the air
Baby, that's the power of prayer
Great work, gents.
E.
A.
C-sharp minor.
G-flat.
I think we should come right out of the sax solo into the, uh...
the verse where you sing every line.
We got the-- We got the-- a different lick on it, is all.
An opening for "Letter To You," we're talking about?
Neath a crowd of mongrel trees
-Like that? -You can even do it shorter.
It's a build and then a big crescendo. You know what I mean?
Big crescendo into-- 'Cause he's coming in singing hard.
-On the cymbal? -Yeah, yeah.
Yeah, let it go in. Let it go.
The E Street Band makes me dream, think and write big.
When I am amongst my friends,
I allow a certain part of my mind that seems to be reserved for only them
to be set free,
and I dwell in a house of a thousand dreams.
What happens in this house matters to me.
We've not been made perfect by God,
but here I try to speak in the voice of my better angels.
We have been given the tools and the property of the soul
to be attended to and accountable for.
And that takes work.
Work that we might build on the principles of love, liberty, fraternity,
ancient ideas that still form the basis for a good life
and a humane society.
What happens in this house matters.
So, brothers and sisters, wherever you are...
let's light up this house.
The blood moon shines across the vale
Bells ring out Through churches and jails
I tally my wounds and count the scars
Here in The house of a thousand guitars
The criminal clown Has stolen the throne
He steals what he can never own
May the truth ring out From every small-town bar
We'll light up The house of a thousand guitars
Well, it's all right Yeah, it's all right
Meet me, darling, come Saturday night
All good souls from near and far
We'll meet in The house of a thousand guitars
Here the bitter and the bored
Wake in search of the lost chord
That'll band us together For as long as there's stars
Here in The house of a thousand guitars
Yeah, it's all right Yeah, it's all right
Meet me, darling, come Saturday night
Brother and sister, wherever you are
We'll meet in The house of a thousand guitars
So wake and shake off Your troubles, my friend
We'll go where the music never ends
From the stadiums To the small-town bars
We'll light up The house of a thousand guitars
House of a thousand guitars House of a thousand guitars
Brother and sister, wherever you are
We'll rise together Till we fire the spark
That'll light up The house of a thousand guitars
Well, it's all right Yeah, it's all right
Meet me, darling, come Saturday night
All good souls from near and far
We'll meet in The house of a thousand guitars
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
A thousand guitars A thousand guitars
-It's good. -You wanna listen to it?
Yeah, let's listen to it.
What a group sound we got going here on this stuff.
Just sounds great.
-Thank you. -Feel like we never left.
Well, we left, but just to get better. Then we came back.
That's right.
Professor, do what you were born to do.
Play the glockenspiel.
Play that glockenspiel.
I will as soon as I get some headphones.
In the spirit of Dan Federici, please.
Dan Federici.
Ghost is haunting us.
Tomorrow we will be cutting songs that are 50 years old.
Uh, I recorded them acoustically at the time for the John Hammond demo,
pre-Greetings from Asbury Park.
-Get ready for some wild lyrics. -Yeah.
-I got one idea, Bruce, for you. -Go ahead.
On the chorus where you're going, "And Papa rode shotgun for the Fargo line,"
then they hold, how about you just play,
"There's still too many bad boys," and then they come in on,
"Work the same line."
So it's just you there.
Papa rode shotgun on the Fargo
There's still too many bad boys Trying to work the same
-Bam. We can do that. -Exactly.
There's a light on yonder mountain
And it's calling me to shine
There's a girl O'er by the water fountain
And she's asking to be mine
And Jesus is standing in a doorway
In a buckskin jacket, boots And spurs so fine
Says, "We need you, son Tonight up in Dodge City
'Cause there's just too many outlaws Trying to work the same line"
Now if Jesus was a sheriff And I was the priest
If my lady was an heiress And my mama was a thief
If Papa rode shotgun on the Fargo line
There's still too many bad boys Trying to work the same line
Well, sweet Virgin Mary Runs the Holy Grail Saloon
Where for a nickel She'll give you a whiskey
And a personally blessed balloon
And the Holy Ghost Is the host with the most
He runs the burlesque show
Where they let you in for free
And they hit you when you go
Mary's serving Mass on Sunday
And she sells her body on Monday
To the bootlegger Who paid the highest price
Well, he don't know He got stuck with a loser
She's a stone junkie What's more, she's a user
She's only been made once or twice
By some kind of magic
Yeah, if Jesus was a sheriff And I was the priest
If my lady was an heiress And my mama was a thief
If Papa rode shotgun on the Fargo line
There's still too many outlaws Trying to work the same line
Well, things ain't been the same In heaven
Since big, bad Bobby came to town
He's been known to down eleven Then ask for another round
Me, I got scabs on my knees From kneeling way too long
It's about time I played the man Took a stand where I belong
Yeah, forget about the old friends And the old times
There's just too many new boys Trying to work the same line
Well, if Jesus was a sheriff And I was the priest
If my lady was an heiress And my mama was a thief
And if Papa rode shotgun On the Fargo line
There's just too many outlaws Trying to work the same line
Well, there's a light on yonder mountain
And it's calling me to shine
There's a girl O'er by the water fountain
And she's asking to be mine
Jesus is standing in a doorway
Six-gun drawn and ready to fan
Said, "We need you tonight, son Up in Dodge City"
Told him I was already overdue For Cheyenne
Yeah, if Jesus was the sheriff And I was the priest
If my lady was an heiress And my mama was a thief
And Papa rode shotgun On the Fargo line
There's still too many bad boys Trying to work the same line
If Jesus was the sheriff And I was the priest
If my lady was an heiress And my mama was a thief
And Papa rode shotgun On the Fargo line
There's still too many bad boys Trying to work the same
Yeah, if Jesus was the sheriff And I was the priest
In the summer, it had an outside patio. You'd play outside. It was beautiful.
It was the first teenage nightclub anyone ever heard of.
-Who ever heard of that? -Unbelievable.
It was like a country club for teenagers.
Kids were all solidly middle and upper class, you know?
You had rah-rahs.
So if you got a gig, particularly from where we were from,
it was-- it was a deal.
Freehold band that got into Teendezvous?
You were legit. You were legitimized.
To have that and then six other hullabaloo clubs you could play at
on the same weekend,
-not to mention the VFW halls... -The beach clubs.
...the union halls, the Legion halls, CYOs.
-These were all venues for rock bands. -Common dances, fraternity dances.
"Ghosts."
A rock band is a social unit
based on the premise that all of us together
are greater than the sum of our individual parts,
that we can achieve something that we could not achieve alone
and that, together, higher ground awaits.
While, in our band, the songs and individual vision are mine,
the physical creation of that vision
into a real-world presence belongs to all of us.
We are a band.
The joy I feel when I work with my band is a hard thing to describe.
Ideas tumble around the room.
People talk over one another. There are false starts and stops.
Confusion often reigns.
And then suddenly...
dynamite.
"Ghosts" is about the beauty and joy of being in a band,
and the pain of losing one another to illness and time.
"Ghosts" tries to speak to the spirit of the music itself...
something none of us owns but can only discover and share together.
In the E Street Band, it resides in our collective soul...
powered by the heart.
I hear the sound of your guitar
Ringing in from the mystic far
Stone and the gravel in your voice
Run through the dreams and I rejoice
It's your ghost
Leading through the night
Spirits filled with light
That chorus before the break you don't need, I think.
You can go from "ghosts" right to the break, then the buildup.
You mean that drumbeat buildup.
-Yep. -You're leaving out this chorus?
Sixteen bars of chorus to the drumbeat buildup.
-So it goes, A, AB, AB, C. -B, C.
That's the verse. B is the ghosts. C is the chorus.
Yes, and again.
A is the verse, B is the ghost, C is the chorus.
We still have the stop before the third verse.
-No, we stop before-- -Third verse.
-The third verse is-- -That line alone,
and then the stop at the end there.
There's still a third verse with those stops.
Anybody wonders where the stop is, watch me.
I'll give you a cue, all right?
Otherwise, don't stop.
Old buckskin jacket you always wore
Yeah.
Good time there.
There. Now.
-Yeah, so the opposite. -Yeah.
Take me here.
All right. Try it.
Just to have it. Then they can **** around with it.
Alive
All right.
I'm alive
And I'm coming home
Yeah, I'm coming home
One, two. One, two--
Clap.
Let's get the claps and get the la-da-das.
I hear the sound of your guitar
Coming from the mystic far
Stone and the gravel in your voice
Come in my dreams and I rejoice
It's your ghost
Moving through the night
Your spirit filled with light
I need
Need you by my side
Your love and I'm alive
I can feel the blood shiver In my bones
I'm alive
And I'm out here on my own
I'm alive
And I'm coming home
Old buckskin jacket you always wore
Hangs on the back of my bedroom door
Boots and the spurs you used to ride
Click down the hall but never arrive
It's just your ghost
Moving through the night
Your spirit filled with light
I need
Need you by my side
Your love and I'm alive
I can feel the blood shiver In my bones
I'm alive
And I'm out here on my own
I'm alive
And I'm coming home
Your old Fender Twin From Johnny's Music downtown
Still set on ten To burn this house down
Count the band in Then kick into overdrive
By the end of the set We leave no one alive
Ghosts running through the night
Our spirits filled with light
I need
Need you by my side
Your love and I'm alive
I shoulder your Les Paul And finger the fretboard
I make my vows To those who've come before
I turn up the volume Let the spirits be my guide
Meet you, brother and sister On the other side
I'm alive
I can feel the blood shiver In my bones
I'm alive
And I'm out here on my own
I'm alive
And I'm coming home
Yeah, I'm coming home
One, two One, two, three, four
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da, da
La, da, da, da Da, da, da, da
Perfect! Perfect!
The songs from 1972...
were and remain a mystery to me.
They were just the way I wrote back then. A lot of words.
Matter of fact, Clive Davis,
the man who signed me to Columbia Records with John Hammond,
called me briefly after our record Greetings from Asbury Park was released
and said someone had called him and told him if I wasn't careful,
I was going to use up the entire English language.
And he said that that was Bob Dylan.
Now, Bob was always my mentor and the brother that I never had,
so I took these words quite seriously.
But all I know is these songs hold a very warm place in my heart.
"Song for Orphans" is about someone overcoming their fears,
their doubts, their times.
It's about fighting for a place of their own.
And, for a kid, I thought a lot of myself in 1972,
despite my towering insecurities.
I was an experienced guitar-playing young lion,
and I felt I had a job to do,
demons to vanquish, a world to claim.
My world, whatever that might be.
And that time I felt I was on the Earth for one thing and one thing only:
to meet, confront and confirm my destiny.
To come out on that stage and change your life,
if I could.
I'd overcome my own emotional abandonment,
my late teenage orphaning,
and I was building with my own hands, and some help,
a place that was mine.
The confederacy is in my name now,
and I would take the responsibility and the accountability for it.
This would be done.
Because I was young and hard and hungry, and I needed it.
I was 22.
Well, the multitude assembled
And tried to make the noise
And black blind poet generals
And restless loud white boys
Times grew thin And the axis grew somehow incomplete
Where instead of child lions
We had aging junkie sheep
Well, how many wasted have I seen
Signed "Hollywood or bust"
They're left to ride Them ever-ghostly Arizona gusts
Cheerleader tramps And kids with big amps
Sounding in the void
High society vamps Ex-heavyweight champs
Mistaking soot for soil
So break me now, Big Mama
As Old Faithful breaks the day
Believe me, my good Linda
The aurora will shine your way
The confederacy is in my name now
The hounds are held at bay
The axis needs a stronger arm
Do you feel your muscles play?
Well, the doorstep blanket weaver Madonna pushes bells
From house to house I see her
Giving last kisses and wishing well
Tell every gypsy mystic hero That the kids might find a place
Who've been lost forever To mom and pop
On their weekends out in space
Well, sons, they search for fathers
But the fathers are all gone
The lost souls search for saviors
But saviors don't last long
Those nameless, quest-less Renegade brats
Who live their lives in song
They run the length of a candle
With a good night whisper Then they're gone
So break me now, Big Mama
As Old Faithful breaks the day
Believe me, my good Linda
The aurora will shine your way
The confederacy is in my name now
The hounds are held at bay
The axis needs a stronger arm
Do you feel your muscles play?
Whoo!
Well, the missions Are filled with hermits
They're looking for a friend
The terraces are filled with cat-men
Just looking for a way in
There's orphans Junked on silver mountains
Lost in celestial alleyways
They wait for that Old tramp dog man Moses
He takes in all the strays
Now don't you grow on empty legends
Or lonely cradle songs
Billy the Kid was just a Bowery boy
Who made a living twirling his guns
The night, she's long and lanky
And she speaks in a mother tongue
She lullabies her refugees With an amplifier's hum
So break me now, Big Mama
As Old Faithful breaks the day
Believe me, my good Linda
The aurora will shine your way
The confederacy's in my name now
The hounds are held at bay
The axis needs a stronger arm
Do you feel your muscles play?
The confederacy's in my name now
The hounds are held at bay
The axis needs a stronger arm
Do you feel your muscles play?
Another masterful day in the studio.
Cheers to the mighty E Street Band.
Halfway done.
More, I think.
-Nice. -Ah.
There were trains, passenger and freight,
that came through Freehold in the '50s.
During long summer afternoons,
we waited for them to jump and ride from one end of town to the other
or just to lay our pennies down on the rails
and pick them up hot and flat.
Those trains came and went as sudden as death.
When I was a child, I got pretty used to death
due to the many Irish and Italian wakes in our family.
By six or seven, you were expected to go with your parents
through the doors of the funeral home with your hand in theirs,
make your way through the crowded room to the coffin.
Then kneel at its side and stare death briefly in the eye.
Your parents would raucously mingle.
Then after a while,
you rode home with a strange sense of terror-filled accomplishment...
filling your young soul.
Back home, you knelt at your bedside and recited,
"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to God my soul to keep.
And if I die before I wake,
I pray to God my soul to take."
"For if I die before I wake."
I never cared for that part.
It impressed upon my young mind...
that someday we will close our eyes
and the gray evening sky will unfold above us...
bringing that long and endless sleep.
Big black train comin' down the track
Blow your whistle long and long
One minute you're here
Next minute you're gone
I lay my penny down on the rails
The summer wind sings its last song
One minute you're here
Next minute you're gone
Baby, baby, baby
I'm so alone
Baby, baby, baby
I'm coming home
Autumn carnival on the edge of town
We walk down the midway arm in arm
One minute you're here
Next minute you're gone
I thought I knew just who I was
And what I'd do, but I was wrong
One minute you're here
Next minute you're gone
Red river runnin' along The edge of town
On the muddy banks I lay my body down
This body down
Footsteps crackling on a gravel road
Stars vanish in a sky As black as stone
One minute you're here
Next minute you're gone
One minute you're here
Next minute you're gone
One minute you're here
We've been here for-- This is our fourth day.
I was gonna come earlier, but I had a cold.
-Said, "No. Wait, wait, wait." -No sweat. Anytime is good.
We're just... recording them and listening to them.
That's good.
Jake Clemons involved in his first official recording,
-solo with the E Street Band. -Wow.
No pressure.
You guys played beautifully.
You hear these tracks back, they sound incredible.
So hopeful. You guys deliver it.
-Yeah. -Cheers.
To my new boss.
-Yeah, baby. -Here's to hope.
-Let's not forget The Big Man. -Big Man.
-To The Big Man. -The Big Man.
-Danny Federici. -Danny.
-Danny Federici. -Danny Federici.
Where do we go when we die?
Maybe we go nowhere...
or maybe everywhere.
Maybe our soul resides in the ether,
in the starless part of the sky
and resonates outward like a stone dropped into a still lake
whose circles are the lives of people we've touched
over the course of our lives.
No one knows where or how far their soul may sound, may travel.
Or maybe it's all just bones, dirt, clay and turtles all the way down.
I don't know.
But I've grieved at the thought
of never seeing some of those I've loved and lost again.
But those passed never completely disappear.
We see them on familiar streets,
in empty clubs...
and in late nights of long ago.
They move in shadow, glimpsed only from the corner of our eyes.
We see them in our dreams.
See you in my dreams
When all our summers Have come to an end
I'll see you in my dreams
We'll meet and laugh again, my friend
I'll see you in my dreams
Yeah, up around the river bend
For death is not the end
And I'll see you in my dreams
Chorus.
I'll see you in my dreams
We'll live and laugh again, my friend
I'll see you in my dreams
Yeah, up around the river bend
For death is not the end
And I'll see you in my dreams
That's the whole deal. Very basic, all right?
The road is long
And seeming without end
The days go on
I remember you, my friend
And though you're gone
And my heart's been emptied it seems
I'll see you in my dreams
I got your guitar
Here by the bed
All your favorite records
And all the books that you read
And though my soul
Feels like it's been split At the seams
I'll see you in my dreams
When all our summers Have come to an end
I'll see you in my dreams
We'll meet and live and laugh again
I'll see you in my dreams
Yeah, up around the river bend
For death is not the end
And I'll see you in my dreams
I'll see you in my dreams
When all our summers Have come to an end
I'll see you in my dreams
We'll meet and live and laugh again
I'll see you in my dreams
Yeah, up around the river bend
For death is not the end
And I'll see you in my
See you in my
See you in my dreams
Oh!
La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la la, la La, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la La, la, la, la
And I'll see you in my dreams
Nice.
It's, uh...
It's got that magnificence to it.
-Steven? -I'm good.
-Everybody's good? -I'm good.
-We're good. -All right, what can I say?
We're taking this thing till we're all in the box, boys.
Till the wheels come off.
-There you go. -Till we're all in the box.
All I can say is the greatest... thrill
continues to be that the greatest thrills in my life
is standing behind that microphone with-- with you guys behind me.
This is the best playing on record, I think--
It's just gotten better. Blows my mind.
To have everybody playing together at the same time in the same room
and to have it just come out sounding like that.
You know, uh, it's--
it's just one of the deepest experiences of my life.
-I love all of you beyond words. -Thank you.
-Beyond words. -Starts with the songs.
It's all about the songs. Right?
And the inspiration for those songs
comes from what I know you guys are gonna be playing.
We're gonna have a lot of fun.
Mr. Landau, you don't do such a bad job either.
All right.
Sitting here and listening, you know. It's tough work.
-Let's do it. -Let's do it.
Mm.
Age.
Age brings perspective in the fine clarity one gets at midnight
on the tracks looking into the lights of an oncoming train.
It dawns on you rather quickly...
there's only so much time left.
Only so many star-filled nights, snowfalls...
brisk fall afternoons, rainy midsummer days.
So how you conduct yourself and do your work matters.
How you treat your friends, your family, your lover.
On good days, a blessing falls over you.
It wraps its arms around you,
and you're free and deeply in and of this world.
That's your reward: being here.
That's what gets you up the next morning...
a new chance to receive that benediction.
While you're buttering your toast, getting dressed or driving home from work,
you stumble into those moments
when you can feel the hand of God gently rest upon your shoulder.
And you realize how lucky you are.
Lucky to be alive,
lucky to be breathing in this world of beauty, horror and hope.
Because this is what there is: a chance.
A world where it's lucky to love, lucky to be loved.
So you go until it fills you,
until the sweat, blood and hard tears make sense.
You go until the light from the fading distant stars
fall at your feet.
Go, and may God bless you.
Zero's my number
Time is my hunter
I wanted you to heal me But instead you set me on fire
We were out over the border
I washed you in holy water
We whispered our black prayers And rose up in flames
Take me on your burnin' train
White sun burnin'
Black wings beatin'
I ran my fingers 'cross The hollow of your stomach
As you lay breathing
With our shared faith
Rising dark and decayed
Take me and shake me From this mortal cage
Take me on your burnin' train
Something's shining In the light neath your breast
The thick smell of you on my chest
On your bed of thorns
I brought you shining gifts
Wiped the sweat from your brow And I touched your lips
Sheets stained with sweat
Outside the endless rain
Darling, I'm blessed in your blood And marked by Cain
Take me on your burnin' train
Yeah.
All right, this was--
this was the first song George and I wrote, I think,
called "Baby I."
Baby, I don't need your tender kiss
Baby, I you'll never miss
Baby, I
Something.
Baby, I
'Cause I got someone new
Somebody better than you
Somebody who'll be true
Somebody better than you
I'll have to go home and practice that.