Beautiful blog of mine, why do I ignore you so? It's sad, really, how much I just put you off until another day. But life's been getting in the way lately, and as the old saying goes, "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Been making lots of lemonade lately. It's been keeping me very busy. Squeezing lemons takes a lot of time.

Last night's stellar concert experience, though, not only begged to be chronicled here -- it demanded it. Screamed it at me, saying in no uncertain terms, "You must blog me." So here I am. It's gonna be a long one, so... so... there.

Before I get into the good stuff, let me start by saying that I'm not a die-hard Springsteen fan. I really like his music a lot, but even though I'm a Jersey girl now later in life, I wasn't one growing up. I wasn't raised here (although I have actually lived here longer than I've lived anywhere else in my life), and I think that that often (although not always, of course) accounts for some of the rabidness his fans in NJ possess... if you are from here and you like Bruce, you don't just like Bruce... you LOVE him.

But I like his music a great deal, have come to appreciate his prowess as a songwriter, as well as the E. Street Band's glory. Sure, I'd heard everything on the radio that everyone else in the country heard growing up, so I wasn't unschooled in the Boss entirely. However, I didn't experience Bruce live until I lived here, at which point it seemed it had to be done -- to see Bruce in his own backyard. I became a believer (but not a crazy rabid fan) after some stadium and arena shows, as well as some solo Bruce adventures live.

I mention all of this as background, to set the scene. I knew that I would be attending a concert with Giants Stadium packed to the gills with die-hard fans. Even the folks up in the rafters in the nosebleed seats REALLY wanted to be there with a desire that bordered on crazy. Going to a Springsteen show in New Jersey... I can't say I've ever had such concert experiences when I've seen other bands in their hometown areas when the situations have presented themselves, except for perhaps seeing The Tragically Hip up in Canada. There's this electricity, this palpable excitement, this conviviality and focus on the music, this rush... you can feel it. It's hard to explain, really, without going off into very elusive, indescribable territory. It gets into your gut. It feels better than good. Viscerally sublime. It is Bruce. In Jersey. Those goosebumps down your arms when the music starts? Yeah, you feel it too.

Among the folks who travel these highways and byways criss-crossing the Garden State, Bruce is considered by many to be a god. I hesitate to put any musicians on a pedestal such as that one, but others have done it for me by their sheer devotion to the man. There were a stadium full of believers, ready to worship, last night.

Traffic getting there was a nightmare. We left plenty of time, and we still walked into the venue late enough as to be too close for comfort (we thought). Perhaps Bruce heard of the overturned truck that closed the Turnpike up near the stadium and pushed the showtime back accordingly... I'm not sure. The concert-goers seemed oddly content to wait. And wait we did. Bruce and the band didn't hit the stage until 9:30. And there was no opener. There was a lot of waiting going on.

We ended up, with an insane fluke of Ticketmaster luck (never to be repeated if we tried our hardest), with 8th row seats on the floor. Facing the stage, we were off to the right, but on the left side of that section, so the angle wasn't too severe. In front of us was a standing-room VIP and general admission section that wasn't very wide and butted up against some lower-level catwalks that Bruce would traverse at different times throughout the night. We also happened to be on the side where the backstage entrance was, so we were in prime star-sighting land, which also passed the time while we waited for the show to start.

The first sighting was Gary Dell'Abate, producer of The Howard Stern Show. Mike knows him, but didn't go talk to him -- perhaps preferring to let him enjoy his family outing. Shouts of his nickname "Baba Booey" were hollered when people did see him, and some folks did go up and talk to him. Then I heard someone in front of us say "Weeds." Mike and I love that show. Yes, Mary Louise Parker was there, standing right in the VIP section with her "are they on again" dude, Jeffrey Dean Morgan (who many folks around us mistakenly thought was Robert Downey, Jr., they do resemble each other a bit). Standing with them and chatting with them was Tim Robbins. Off to the other side was a former American Idol contestant, Constantine Maroulis (how Mike and I recognized him puzzled both of us because we have never watched an episode of that show EVER in our lives). I took some photos for proof (of everyone except Constantine and Baba Booey - LOL):

Here is Tim Robbins:

And here is Jeffrey Dean Morgan & Mary Louise Parker:

It was almost impossible to get a photo of Mary Louise Parker, simply because people were usually in the way and I refused to walk up there to take a picture. Taking it from far away seemed fine, but I wasn't going to walk closer like other people were doing. I don't roll that way, I guess. They're there to enjoy a concert. Getting in their face to take photos or whatnot just seemed intrusive and wrong to me (although one might argue that taking photos from far away is also intrusive in another way, but I still say it's less so).

After we'd amused ourselves watching some famous folks do nothing more exciting than chat with each other, we were finally graced by the presence of Bruce and band. It was 9:30 and the place was ready to party. I couldn't even tell you all of the songs they played -- I'm not one of those people who knows all of the song titles by a long shot, although I did recognize the vast majority of the tunes. I knew they were playing long sets, but we got, and I'm not kidding here, almost 3 hours and 30 minutes of concert. They were done playing at almost 1 a.m.! Now, usually venues of any size beyond like small clubs and bars have union rules for the workers which institutes a curfew. If the band plays later than a set curfew time, they incur overtime costs for said union workers. Makes sense. Well, obviously Bruce was ready to eat a pretty hefty overtime bill (I would guess the curfew there to be 11 or 11:30), or he's so revered in these parts that he got a free pass (the latter I sincerely doubt to be the case).

It was a blur of fist-pumping, booty-shaking, chills-inducing crowd singalong goodness. Bruce was all over the stage, sweating profusely in the very hot, humid summer night (it was in the 80s even when the sun went down). I know they played Born To Run, Rosalita (the final song), Jungleland, Bobby Jean, Cadillac Ranch, Blinded By The Light, The Rising, Badlands, Radio Nowhere... tons more that my still reeling brain is forgetting (a full set list follows, compliments of Backstreets.com):

July 31 / E. Rutherford, NJ / Giants Stadium
Setlist:
Summertime Blues
Tenth Avenue Freeze-out
Radio Nowhere
Prove It All Night
Two Hearts
The Promised Land
Spirit in the Night
Light of Day
Brilliant Disguise
Pretty Flamingo
Blinded by the Light
Cadillac Ranch
Candy's Room
Night
Because the Night
She's the One
Livin' in the Future
Mary's Place
Incident on 57th Street
The Rising
Last to Die
Long Walk Home
Badlands
* * *
Jungleland
Born to Run
Bobby Jean
Dancing in the Dark
American Land
Jersey Girl
Rosalita

And as per usual, I played rock photographer. I took photos of both the action on stage and the huge video screen in front of us. Not my best work, but I didn't want to do more than set my ISO and have the shutter speed be the only thing I would tweak (if I got into full manual mode, I miss too much of the show trying to get my settings right). Setting the camera on auto at a nighttime outdoor show never works in my experience. I think I got some fun stuff... See what you think:

Ever seen Bruce? What was it like? Ever seen him in Jersey?