The Cowl
March 30, 1977
By Frank Fortin
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3,400 agree: “Juicy Brucey’s’ the Best

Bruce Springsteen melted the varnish off Alumni Hall’s floor last week, and no one complained.
No one complained! After two encores of blistering rock and roll and an orgiastic gushing of energy, we still could stand more! March 20 will be remembered as the date rock and roll came to PC, and never left.
“The Savior of Rock’ they call him. I think he is. After watching about two and one-half hours of a man so totally overwhelmed by his music, you begin to wonder.
You wonder what exactly it is which can turn 3400 people into one can of jumping beans. You also begin to wonder whether we’ve been underrating him these past two years rather than the opposite: a tag which has become the party line. You begin to wonder. You also wonder in awe.
I found myself sitting there at times so washed out by what he had to offer that I was blind to everything else. His second number, written by “an old friend,” was called “It’s My Life and I do What I Want.” Its message is not at all elusive. It could even be argued that he’s beginning simplistic.
There was Springsteen (beardless) impeccably dressed in a black three-piece suit with a whit shirt and no tie. He was alone, at center stage, bathed in a single overhead spotlight. That was white. Everything else was black, save the orange indicator lights on the amps behind him.
And he’s getting this sound from his guitar. It reverberates through the hall. He isn’t plucking or chopping or attacking it. He is coaxing it. His pick, though held firmly in hand, glides across the strings. Not forced. It is soothing. And it is heavenly.
Then he tells this story to the audience. It is the tale of two young men, not old enough to drink, sitting on the curb outside Asbury Park, MJ, nightclubs listening to bands from New York City. Until four am. And catching hell at home for it. And doing it again the next week.
Springsteen and the band chant, “It’s my life and I do what I want.” Simple sounding. But it had an impact.
This was one moment last week which I’ll remember for quite a while.
The lightening was the best I have ever seen. It did more than just focus attention on the featured performer. It made a song as a song more meaningful. There’ve been few times I’ve seen that.
The sound was superb, though loud. Alumni Hall’s notorious echo chamber was tamed by acres of black curtain, and the music was clear and sharp.
Then there were two encores and three songs lasting a good 25 minutes. It’s symbolized by Springsteen actually jumping into the crowd during three of the songs. It’s epitomized by his serenading a “crazy bunch” in the front row. In other words, he doesn’t play with his back to the audience or just wink at the little girls in the cheap seats.
He makes the real, honest effort. Spontaneously or not, you know he loves every second of it.
You know that by his much more than perfunctory encore.
After closing the show proper with “Rosalita,” the audience raises hell for five minutes and gets “Born to Run” for an encore. It would be a perfect ending. Yet we wanted more.
And we got Springsteen alone at the piano for a new song called “The Promise.” This would also be a nice touch to end the night. But as soon as he’s finished, the rest of the band re-enters and an absolutely joyous rendition of “Burnt” by the Belmonts (icing on the cake)
The cake is a gift: it’s also a wedding cake. Springsteen is passionately wedded to his life as a musician. He makes love to music every time he’s out on the stage. No wonder he’s never still.
And he presents his gift to us. The cake, his band and its performance, is to be shared by all of us. The bliss of his marriage is too great to contain—he gives us a taste of what it’s all about.
And we are delirious and become intoxicated from his vapors. You give yourself totally to his dream, and the feeling regenerates itself—feeds on itself. The musician is inspired, and rises. The ultimate heights are threatened, maybe even broached.
Maybe that’s what Bruce Springsteen is all about. “Savior” might not be a bad word at all.

Thanks to Roxann for the review