Travels of an Aging Rocker - Part 2

Walking the streets of Philadelphia

So, this is the second in a series of posts I’m writing about my travels around the globe (although mostly to the USA so far) to see my favourite musicians. Hope you enjoy.

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“Born down in a dead man’s town.” - Born in the USA - Bruce Springsteen

I can’t exactly recall who entered my life first. Springsteen or King. I think it was King. Maybe.

As I mentioned in my article from a few weeks ago, the first Stephen King book I read was The Stand. It opens with one of the verses from Jungleland, Bruce Springsteen’s anthemic closing track from his Born to Run album. However, I think it wasn’t until I read the line above, at the start of King’s magnum opus, IT, that I became fully aware of the musician who I would spend the next forty years of my life listening to.

In fact, throughout all that time, these two giants of Americana have always gone hand in hand for me. Both, in their own way, initially appealing to the teenage boy I was back in the mid eighties, living in a small industrial town in central Scotland, trying to find my way in a dull, bland world whilst, at the same time, desperately wishing I was anywhere else.

Springsteen sang of getting out whilst we were young, falling in love and driving down life’s endless highways in a wide open country. Words that spoke directly to my disaffected soul. And King told me stories about normal everyday people using friendship and determination to stand against all manners of evil. OK, they had to fight monsters and live through some pretty grim times, but at least they were doing something rather than just the same old boring routine. These two visions seemed to be of a life I should have been leading, so naturally I couldn’t get enough.

As I’ve said before, this was in 1985 and the most exciting thing I was allowed to do, aged thirteen and a half, was go to the cinema, for the first time without my parents, to see the fourth instalment in a movie series about a character I had known long before the two legends above had entered my life.

Rocky Balboa was the ultimate underdog. He wasn’t the brightest, was working for a dodgy loan shark, lived in a run down apartment in Philadelphia, but still had dreams of being a great boxer. When chance calls and the Heavyweight Champion of the World, Apollo Creed, likes the nickname “Italian Stallion” for his next opponent, he gets a million to one shot at the title.

I was a huge fan of the Rocky series. The first one was a bit rough for my early years, but the second and third movies were on constant repeat on our VHS player. Until I got my own pair of gloves I used balled up football socks for gloves, had mock fights in the kitchen with my friends and managed to punch a huge hole in the coombed ceiling in my bedroom as I didn’t have a punch bag. I eventually got one, but the damage was done!

Looking back it was clear Rocky IV was the beginning of the slippery slope into utter guff that reached its nadir with the execrable fifth instalment not long after. After that low point, it would take another sixteen years before the series rose from the canvas once more.

However, to the patrons of the ABC cinema in Falkirk, it was the greatest blockbuster since Ghostbusters the year before. It was also a lesson in backing the wrong horse.

Even though he’d been the bad guy in the last two movies, we all shouted, “Apollo! Apollo!” as the super cool, and sadly missed Carl Weathers, strapped on the gloves once more as Apollo Creed to face the evil Russian, steroid taking, Ivan Drago played by the Swedish actor, Dolph Lundgren.

Of course, pre internet, we had no idea that the good guy was going to get killed (spoiler for a 39 year old movie) and you could hear a pin drop when it actually happened.

Even Mickey dying in Rocky 3 hadn’t been this shocking (spoiler for a 42 year old movie) I mean he’d been ancient since the first movie six years previously so that was kind of expected.

Adrian going into a coma in Rocky II, after her horrific brother Paulie shouts at her when she’s heavily pregnant, was upsetting but, ultimately, was used as inspiration for her man getting back in the ring.

I suppose Rocky getting his eye lid cut open was, and still is to this day, a particularly grim scene in the far more gritty than we remember, first movie from 1976.

Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is that this was a movie series that was close to my heart and, particularly for the first two films, the city of Philadelphia loomed large in the story of Rocky Balboa.

So, on my last birthday, when my wife announced that she’d bought us tickets to see Bruce Springsteen play in that exact city, I had two huge reasons to be very excited.

This would be my first time seeing Springsteen live. Even though I had followed him for forty years, I had never managed to get tickets to previous shows. That combined with the fact we would be visiting one of the most iconic cities from my favourite childhood movie series made me look forward to the trip all the more.

Of course, the one annoying thing about going to America from the UK is that you have to fly to get there. It’s not the flying that bothers me, but having to travel with all the other coughing, spluttering, leaning their chairs back (even though it’s a day flight!) folk that always seem to be on long haul flights with me.

Luckily the flight to Philly was only seven hours, give or take, so it wasn’t too bad. I did that British thing of not actually saying anything but just harrumphing a lot at my fellow passengers whilst my wife and son found my general discomfort rather amusing. All that being said, a couple of movies and beers later, everything was fine.

Just an interesting aside on American Airlines the movie selection isn’t the best, but they did have Field of Dreams showing, which was great to watch again. However, I’d forgotten about the scene in their daughters school about some of the parents trying to ban books. The movie is 35 years old so I guess things never change. It’s also contains a wonderful performance by the late, great James Earl Jones as Terrence Mann. He gives such a warm, nuanced performance that shows he was so much more than just the voice of Darth Vader and Mufasa. He will be sorely missed.

Anyway, we made it, and arrived into the city late at night. As I mentioned about us landing into LA for Power Trip last October, I forget just how vast America actually is. Looking out the airplane window at the sea of bright lights below never fails to be awe inspiring.

It had been a long journey so we headed up to our room as the gig was the next day and we wanted to be as fresh as possible. Of course, our body clocks had different ideas.

I read somewhere that it takes you a day per hour of time difference to recover from jet lag. I’m not sure if that is the case, but when we all woke up at 3.30am the next day, I knew by the time of the concert, the last thing we would be was fresh.

We managed to grab a few more hours sleep and then ordered a huge breakfast to set us up for the day ahead.

If you know Philadelphia, the hotel we were staying in was close to City Hall, and we did the thing that folks do when they find themselves in an unfamiliar city and need to be centred. Look for the nearest bookshop.

Luckily there was a Barnes & Noble just around the corner on Chestnut Street, so we headed there to pass some time before we had to get to the gig.

One of the things that I find fascinating is seeing the American covers of books that I already own. Sad I know, but I just think they look cooler. I managed to control myself and not spend a fortune, but the selection was great and I picked up a Stephen Graham Jones novel I’d wanted to read for a while and my wife found some local cookbooks. My son spent the entire time looking at his phone so no change there.

Heading back to the hotel, I was already beginning to get a feel for our surroundings and definitely had an inkling that the city reminded me of somewhere else, but I just couldn’t quite place it.

Anyway, it was soon time to head to the concert and the rail network seemed really decent as there was a station right outside the hotel where we got a train straight to the Citizens Bank stadium.

By this point it wasn’t just me that was bouncing up and down in excitement. We pass on a lot to our kids but their appreciation, or lack there of, our music choices is almost done through a strange form of osmosis as they are forced to listen to it being driven to and from school. My son had become a Springsteen fan in the last few years so also couldn’t wait to see the gig.

The other great thing about travel is you get to visit all the local sports stadiums which is, again, something I find endlessly fascinating and to see the homes of the Phillies and the Eagles, these great monoliths to sporting hopes and dreams, right next to each other was very cool.

We took our seats and waited.

At twenty past seven, as the sun was beginning to set, some dude bimbled on stage, and began chatting to the people at the front of the crowd.

“Is that the support?” my son asked.

As I’ve mentioned before, my eyesight is not the best, and we were quite far away. However, I was pretty sure who it was.

“I think that might be Bruce,” I said uncertainly.

And sure enough I was right. Here was this huge rock star, talking away as if he was just about to play a show at his local bar, rather than in front of fifty thousand people. It was extraordinary. But that set the tone for the night. We weren’t there just to listen. Every one of us were part of this. It was a shared experience between the band and the audience.

Anyway, ten minutes later, the mighty Max Weingberg struck the first notes of Atlantic City and we were away.

“Well, they blew up the Chicken Man in Philly last night

And they blew up his house too

Down on the boardwalk they’re ready for a fight

Gonna see what them racket boys can do.”

Atlantic City - Bruce Springsteen

I probably don’t need to tell you that the gig was great, otherwise I guess I wouldn’t be writing this article. He still puts on an amazing show after, but as well as being swept along by the sheer joy of finally seeing my favourite artist live, it was still surprising at how much of an emotional night it was.

The first part of the set had a lot of the big hitters. No Surrender, Ghosts, Hungry Heart, Spirit in the Night and, my all time favourite, The Promised Land.

However, once they got to the fantastic cover of Nightshift by the Commodores, where Springsteen was joined by the excellent Curtis King on backing vocals, the night took a turn for the soulful and contemplative.

Even though he’s been going for fifty years, it is sometime easy to forget, because his music is so timeless, that Springsteen is not a young man any more. He’s nearly seventy five now and, by his own admission, realises he is closer to the end of this journey than the beginning.

And, as with everyone, the passing years bring more sorrow and grief than we think we can cope with, and yet we have to continue on despite all these losses.

At the end of the wonderfully soaring, Racing in the Streets, Springsteen took to the microphone to talk about how he joined his first band sixty years ago after being invited by his friend, George Theiss and how devastated he was when George passed a few years back.

“Huddled in our cars, waiting for the bells that ring.

In the deep heart of the night they set us loose of everything.”

Backstreets - Bruce Springsteen

Here was a man, when you stripped away all the fame and fortune, looking back on his life and realising, out of that original band, he was the last one still alive and it made the next few songs, Last Man Standing and Backstreets all the more poignant.

Then, we were racing on back into the greatest hits with Badlands, Thunder Road, Born to Run and Dancing in the Dark. Springsteen doesn’t seem to play lead as much as he used to, but I guess when you can call on the likes of Nils Lofgren and Steve Van Zandt that’s no bad thing. However, despite his nephew Jake being a fantastic stand in, the presence of the big man, Clarence Clemons, is still sorely missed.

It was an incredible gig and a genuine privilege to be there. It’s easy for people, who may not be aware of the sheer breadth of Springsteen’s back catalogue, to criticise his song writing as being just about cars and girls, or the image they have in their mind of the head band wearing, first pumping rocker from the eighties. Clearly neither of these are correct. The latter, as Springsteen has admitted, was an image he thought he had to portray to get his fathers approval for what he was doing, and was ditched a long time ago. The former is complete nonsense. There is enough imagery and story telling in one line from Lost in the Flood alone to fill ten great American novels.

Of course, as with every concert, there are songs I wish he’d played. There was no Prove it all Night, Darkness of the Edge of Town, The River or Jungleland but that’s alright, I’m sure he’ll play them next time.

What I will say is my relationship with Springsteen’s songs has changed over the years. As I said earlier, when I was younger, it was all about running away to find that promised land and walking in the sun, but, as I got older, they’ve become odes to the past and our place in it.

And he doesn’t sugar coat how tough living can be. In Racing in the Streets, he tells us, “Some guys just give up living and start dying little by little, piece by piece,” and considers in The River, “Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true, or is it something worse?”

However, ultimately, in his looking back, there must be a promise to face the future head on and confront whatever comes our way.

“Well, now young faces grow sad and old

And hearts of fire grow cold

We swore blood brothers against the wind

I’m ready to grow young again.”

No Surrender - Bruce Springsteen

And that brings me briefly back to King. IT will always be my favourite novel of his because, as well as looking at Pennywise and his horrors, it’s also a book about growing up and being unable to run away from your problems. These two writers will forever be linked to me as I moved from childhood to adulthood. The stories they tell have helped me find the way.

“… he thinks it is good to be a child, but it is also good to be a grownup and able to consider the mystery of childhood ….. or so Bill Denbrough sometimes thinks on those early mornings when he almost remembers his childhood and the friends with whom he shared it.”

IT - Stephen King

Anyway, the next day dawned bright and clear and our plan was to head for the Philadelphia Museum of Art and, more importantly, the steps that lead up to it. However, we thought we’d do a bit of exploring first and get a bite to eat.

We travelled through town stopping at Reading Terminal Market and then on to the 4th Street Deli for some lunch. I keep forgetting the difference in portion sizes to the UK, so after eating a delicious Smoked Turkey Reuben that was about the same size as my head, I was really needing the walk that followed!

“At night sometimes it seemed like you could hear the whole damn city crying

Blame it on the lies that killed us, blame it on the truth that ran us down.”

Backstreets - Bruce Springsteen

As we made our way through the different districts, it occurred to me what city Philadelphia reminded me of. It was Glasgow. Not just architecturally with old historic buildings next to large modern office blocks, but also being a port city with wealthy neighbourhoods being cheek to jowl with the not so well off, where people don’t have two cars and well manicured lawns, but are struggling to make ends meet or even sleeping in doorways and homelessness is a real issue. The grim reality of modern city living for so many people is that you’re just one nudge from falling off track and into the abyss no matter how hard you work.

It’s also reflected in the citizens who may initially come across as brusque, distant and a bit grouchy, but once you get talking to them they are warm and welcoming, but just don’t have any time for bullshit. And that’s certainly what I prefer. Give me a city with grit under it’s finger nails with grounded, honest folks who have none of this fake friendliness that means nothing. My dad always said, take people as you find them, and that’s certainly what you should do here. I really enjoyed our time here and will certainly be back.

I’ve mentioned before about my trips to the US that, because so many places are in movies and TV shows, you do feel like you’re on a film set a lot of the time. And that was certainly the case when we finally arrived at the museum steps.

This was somewhere I had seen numerous times on TV over the last forty five years. Initially when I was a kid watching these movies for the first time, and then, again, just like with my music, when my son became a fan of the Rocky series and I got to enjoy them again through his eyes. So to be standing here really was quite surreal.

We just took one look at the steps and then at each other and said, “Let’s go.”

Now, as he is 35 years my junior, to say he left me trailing is an understatement, but as he raced ahead the strangest sensation came over me.

Running up those steps, I watched my son, with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes, do exactly what I had also dreamt of doing at his age. This time next year he will be leaving home to go to university which is almost hard to comprehend. Surely he is still my five year old boy listening with rapt attention as I tell him a story of dragons and brave knights. But we can’t do anything to stop time, no matter how hard we try. All we can do is our best and I hope I have done that these past sixteen and a half years. I have passed on what (little) wisdom I have, but I also think things like music and film, the joy givers, are hugely important. Life is made up of moments that stay with us and get us through the grim times. The memory of the Springsteen concert along with the story of Rocky Balboa that made us want to sprint up those steps will always be with him, and the fact he first learned about them from his dad makes me happy. The past, present and future all collided on that sunny afternoon in Philadelphia, and as we reached the top and gave our Rocky salute to the city it was the perfect end to a trip that I will never forget.