"I'm On Fire" by Bruce Springsteen

Singalong 003: A valley through my skull

Confession: I hated the Boss's music well into my 40s.

“…is your daddy home? Did he go away and leave you all alone?”

For this latchkey kid, coming around to Bruce was a long process. Mostly one of me overcoming some serious hangups. I expect no grace, Let me just say I was taught growing up that sounds like the ones he made were not good ones. Suzuki cello classes will do that to a kid, as did my obsession with jazz vocalists and my daily addiction to playing free-flowing new age piano improvisations for hours at a stretch.

I lived in a cocoon of my own creation, it was a hiding place. I just didn't make time for songs that brought people together, especially if gnarl and rasp figured prominently. I also thought (and still think) that the hooks were pretty banal. A little heavy on the one-five-ones.

“Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull, and cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull”

I was scared of Bruce because I was scared of people in general, introverted. And I felt highly put-upon by the other kids in school who outwardly loved the man. I perceived them to be bullies. In retrospect, my little seige mentality agains the Boss was probably due much more to shyness and misguided pride on my part than hostility on theirs.

But I had taken on some snotty tastes: the tapes shuffing in and out of my Jansport backpack were a mishmash of Bobby McFerrin ("The Voice"), A-Ha, Pete Townsend ("White City"), Genesis, Herbie Hancock's "Rockit" and Paul Young singing "Everytime You Go Away". Then I added lots of downtown NYC improvised music: a lot of John Zorn and Henry Threadgill. Everyone needs to hear cellist Hank Roberts’ early albums if you can find them. Actual rock came in later when I got into Led Zeppelin and Living Colour, but I remained pretty aloof to the rest of rock.

Embarrassing to say, but I just had a different freight train running through the middle of my head.

“Only you can cool my desire”

Alas, my latent love for the Boss suffered from poor timing: Reagan was a scary president. He was threatening to blow up the whole world, nuclearly, in the name of American dominance, at the time of my first contact with Bruce. This took the form of getting repeatedly bulldozed by "Born In The USA". Never mind that the lyrics belie the relentlessly anthemic hook, I had no context. I couldn’t hear the dissent. He just sounded like a hairy cheerleader.

First impressions are brutal. My ears broke out in a rash, so I decided I hated everything about Bruce and his music. It took me decades (and the compassionate lobbying of many very patient friends) before I finally got around to giving the man a proper chance.

Fast forward to 2016 and I'm standing on the floor at the Meadowlands taking in a five hour show. And yes, I also cried watching the Howard Stern interview.

Mea culpa. But here we are, late but not never.

“Oh oh oh I’m on fire”

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