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Rating: It had been quite a few years since I last saw a concert from this side of the stage. To be exact, it was nine years. Since November of that 1999 which saw the end of my old and beloved band.
Then life brings along all-encompassing and distracting factors, sometimes pleasant, like children, writing, various dinners and feasts, sometimes less pleasant but necessary, like work.
The fact is, the time for making music in a basement or garage with friends, once or twice a week, was always found in these nine years, but never for the stage.
Too much stress, we would say, too many anxieties, too much need to rehearse the pieces well, being careful not to make mistakes, or to make as few as possible. Then the sound check, moving early in the afternoon, not thinking about anything else for many days before, cables that don't work, lights that don't turn on, the sound engineer who makes the sound the way he wants and not how you would like it, electricity you never know if it will be enough, and so on complaining...
Then, two years ago, the idea. The common idea that unites and brings together the seven who are now part of the Hungry Hearts: a tribute, or rather, a homage to Bruce Springsteen.
The only musical culture ground on which we all gladly walk, sow and hunt. One would lean too much towards metal, another listens to singer-songwriters, David Bowie and more, the drummer lives in the cult of the seventies, and Batta's splendid sax plays ballroom music, and everything else as needed.
As for me, I've been listening to the few singer-songwriters I still like for millennia, but above all, I fill my days with jazz and blues, even as a low office background... very low when there are clients, of course...
But the Boss, Him, everyone truly likes. Those who love rock, those who love blues, those who love singer-songwriters, those who love to read and those who love to remember that musically unrepeatable period that spans from the seventies to the early eighties. And so the idea of a homage (not an imitative tribute, god save us from the provincial patheticism of pretending to be others...) to the best Boss, from "Born To Run" to "Born In The USA".
And then we practiced until the natural thought simultaneously dawned in everyone's mind, the idea of playing around. Of getting back to playing around. And on September 19, we had a fantastic time getting angry at the sound check, we were careful not to waste our voice and energy, we thought about it compulsively for at least the whole week before, and we finally got back on stage.
This time there were the smoke machines (never played with smoke machines before...) and a sea of phones filming and photographing. Many friends were waiting for us to get back on stage, many were evidently attracted by a concert with the Boss's music, and the fact is there was a great turnout that made us feel young, beautiful, healthy, and so on.
When we stopped, there weren't all these electronic gadgets, and it was unthinkable that, besides a nice recording, you could have "pirate" videos on YouTube and photos sent to your phone... all exhilarating, in its own way.
The hard part is going back to the office, to hearings, or on the bus or behind a desk, doing accounts and giving opinions. The hard part, with a youthful dream we've always known we still have inside, is returning to normal life.
But the most beautiful thing, really, is realizing that you only live once, until proven otherwise. And that it's worth it.
That we still needed the stage and that fortunately, there was still space for us on it.
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