RIP “Big Man”
I don’t remember when or how I came to own Born to Run. But I can still remember standing next to the stereo in the living room staring at the album cover as the vinyl spun for the first time. Something about the cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on Springsteen’s face as he gazed at that big, black saxophone player he was leaning on, that image seemed the perfect embodiment of the music coming out of the speakers: bold, hip, self-confident. They were going somewhere - together. And if we listened, they would take us too.
I suppose it’s possible to be a Springsteen fan without also being a Clarence Clemons fan. But from the time “the change was made uptown and the Big Man joined the band,” Bruce’s music took off in a new direction; it was no longer possible to dismiss him as a Dylan wannabe, as early critics often did. Clemons brought soul and power and a unique sound to Springsteen’s tracks.
When I saw the band in their last concert at Giants Stadium in 2009, Clemons had to be helped onto the stage - moving was clearly difficult for him. But when he picked up his sax, he was the same Big Man we’d always known and loved. And if he used his final curtain call to shill his recently published memoir - holding it up in front of him as the cameras beamed his image across the stadium’s big screens - I just laughed it off. He’d given us such great music over the years, it seemed the least I could do to watch his silent commercial.
Rest in peace, Big Man. Heaven’s rocking out tonight.
