From Asbury Park to Boucher Park ...

 

A near ten-hour flight separates Asbury Park, NJ, and Boucher Park, Belfast, but the difference between them is much, much wider.

On one hand you have the mesmerising imagery of boardwalks, carnivals and the Stone Pony, on the other, a park that is basically grass and gravel, next to a generic industrial estate and retail park that could be Anywhere, UK.


Belfast’s Boucher Park is as far removed from rock ‘n’ roll as you can imagine - only the moving canvas of Springsteen t-shirts gave away the fact something extraordinary was happening close to the tile warehouses and garden furniture outlets.


The stop–start early queue which snaked to the gates led to a wristband which led to the front of the stage with tantalising snippets from the end of the soundcheck carrying over the fencing.


I’ve never had the urge to do ‘the pit’ or rollcall - turns out you didn’t really need to do either in Belfast as the wristband got me to within half a dozen rows at the front.I suspect I could have got even closer if I’d moved from stage left to right and back again. Instead, I found a spot to the right, and stuck with it.


That said, I did enjoy the ingenuity of two women walking along Boucher Road who whipped out their own Sharpies and, I swear, wrote numbers on their wrists … guess there’s more than one way to get close to the coveted rail if you really want to!


The fella behind me had album covers by Bruce and Nils which he hoped to get signed, assuming they survived an afternoon at his feet on a dusty, gravel surface, while pre-gig was taken up watching one fan on the rail work with diligence on his sign. Using his mate’s back as an easel, he spent the best part of an hour thickening every letter so it stood out.


We were all intrigued as it offered Springsteen an option - A or B. It paid off when Bruce picked the first option and rewarded him with a harmonica well into the gig. We never did get to see what ’B’ said though …


It also reminded me of a friend, a church minister, who once took his sign to a gig and didn’t get picked. Now, if a man who serves God - and who often quotes Springsteen lyrics in his sermons - can’t be called, then I figured there ain’t much hope for mortals like me, but he did explain: “You see, there’s God and then there is Springsteen…”


The beauty of being in so early is you get to enjoy the buzz of the build up. It’s funny how quickly it passes. As a kid I’d do the same when going to a football match, and become immersed in the growing buzz as the terraces filled up and kick-off came into view.


Gigs are much the same. The lighting riggers may no longer climb to their positions high above the stage, but between the last roadie and tech guy leaving the stage and everyone getting into position in the wings, there is that sense of anticipation which builds to the arrival of the band.


And Belfast was superb. Opening a gig in that city with a song called No Surrender would have been unthinkable a generation ago. Today, everyone belted out the lyrics without a second thought. This beautiful, magical city has come a long, long way …


There was no doubt Springsteen’s cold impacted on his vocals. The tautness of the Cardiff gig was perhaps a notch lower, but he still delivered a three hour set, and only the die hards would have noticed the slightly longer breaks between some songs as he paced himself - and by longer, I’m talking about a few seconds more.


He caught a second wind on the home straight, throwing in Land Of Hope And Dreams in place of Born In The USA to get the first encore underway, and delivering a joyous Twist And Shout before a poignant I’ll See You In My Dreams.


Highlights? For me, Hungry Heart - one of my entry points to Springsteen back in ’81 - remains  infectious and evergreen - and I love that set closing pairing of Badlands and Thunder Road which never fail to soar.


I’m no great fan of arranging gigs in order from best ever down through the rankings. They all have their moments which burn bright in the memory. This one more than delivered on that score.


As I flew back into Edinburgh Airport,  a woman spotted my t-shirt, came up and asked how the gig was - she was booked for London. It felt good to say, yup this tour bristles with energy and sheer joy. The spirit of Asbury Park made it all the way to Boucher Park.


Next stop  the Stadium of Light in Sunderland.


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