thunder road (live at the hammersmith odeon) -- bruce springsteen

The screen door slams,
Mary's dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
as the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely,
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again
I just can't face myself alone again
Don't run back inside,
darling you know just what I'm here for
So you're scared and you're thinking
that maybe we ain't that young anymore
Show a little faith there's magic in the night,
you ain't a beauty but hey you're alright,
oh and that's alright with me

You can hide 'neath your covers
and study your pain,
Make crosses from your lovers
throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
for a saviour to rise from these streets
Well now I'm no hero,
that's understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl,
is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now ?
Except roll down the window,
and let the wind blow
back your hair

Bruce Springsteen, you're lucky that I am heterosexual and that you are far away from me both geographically and socially because otherwise I'd fucking kiss you. This whole evening has been a walk across a field deep with mud: nothing feels appealing; the world can screw itself over; so can schoolwork and ambitions; so can society and civilisation itself. It's been one long low that I've just wanted to end by retiring to a warm bed and stay there for a while, but given all the things I need to do that would have been highly irresponsible.

So how to solve it? Live through it and reincarnate the next day? Give up and go to sleep?

Hell no.

Turn on the eminent record Hammersmith Odeon, London '75 by The Boss, lie back and listen. Yes, the joyfully performed ode to youth Spirit in the Night is a gem, as is the hard-to-interpret but oh, so enjoyable and grimy Lost in the Flood. The best, however, is and remains Thunder Road, opening track of the CD and an elegic song about love, hope and cars. When hearing Bruce Springsteen wailing how he ain't young anymore I am close to starting screaming myself. It's such beauty, it's such poetry and it's got something undefinable that makes my blood stream properly in my veins again when everything frankly feels like shit.

Music is a force in itself. I guess that makes Springsteen Yoda, at the very least.

Hell, you'll never read this, Bruce, but hear me on this: some days I wonder how the hell I would keep walking with my back straight without you and the E Street Band accompanying me through the soundwaves. Thank you.

/w.