Cue Soozie and Roy…

I’ll never forget the first time I heard “Jungleland” live. It was about two hours into a typically energetic Boston Garden Bruce set when things got quiet. Then Soozie’s violin and Roy’s piano promised that something special was about to go down. Close to 20,000 members of the E Street family were about to embark on a twelve-minute odyssey down Flamingo Lane. We were going to ride with the Magic Rat in his sleek machine like some lost outtake from “Midnight Cowboy.” We were going to drink warm beer in the soft summer rain. We were all going to meet beneath that giant Exxon sign (or, being in Beantown, maybe we could make it a Citgo sign for the night). Twenty-thousand disciples were waiting for our fearless leader to tell us where he was going to transport us next. We dodged cops, we flashed guitars just like switch-blades, and we hustled for the record machine. We dressed in the latest rage, but we also struggled in dark corners. We were on a ride like no other.

Down in Jungleland…

It is a truly unique and communal experience to sing those three words. Look to your right: three guys in their mid-fifties, salt-and-pepper hair, arm-in-arm, swaying back and forth. Look to your left: a young girl, maybe 14, with Taylor Swift lip-stick and skinny jeans, singing every word like it was the latest Pitbull hit. Look in front of you at the preppy college kid in the Abercrombie shirt and the Northeastern hat, just taking it all in. For three words, we are all one. Singing at the top of our lungs so that the entire world will know exactly where this epic saga is taking place: Down in Jungleland. Jungleland is not a place for the meek of heart. It is dark, and it is formidable, and it is daunting. But more than anything it is alive. And for the first four minutes of “Jungleland,” we think we couldn’t possibly be more alive than we are at that moment.

Cue the Big Man…

Enter Clarence. Larger than life, even from 50 rows away. I’ve listened to the sax solo from “Jungleland” countless times. I’ve listened to it in my ’83 Ford Escort with a bungee cord holding the door closed. I’ve listened to it while mowing my lawn in 95-degree heat. I’ve listened to it in the shower. But up until that moment I had never heard it live. It is surreal. I was taken somewhere I didn’t know I could go. It filled the entire arena until there was no space left to even breathe. Twenty-thousand people in hushed reverence, all in awe of the Big Man. And when he finished and stepped back into the shadows, I felt exhausted, like I had somehow had a part in what just occurred. In a way I think I did; I think we all did. I’d like to think the audience was some kind of medium between Clarence and the Gods of Music.

Cue the Boss…

As the last note of the saxophone rings through the arena, the Big Man somehow fades into the canvas that is the E Street Band. As Bruce steps up to the microphone, we all know our adventure with the Magic Rat is coming to a close. But even after we watch the Rat get gunned down by his own dreams, and after the girl shuts off that bedroom light, one more thrill awaits. That cry. That furious wail that comes from the most remote depths of Bruce Springsteen. It’s the culmination of this twelve minute movie we’ve all just watched–no, acted–in. Everything we’ve seen and witnessed, in the darkest depths of the city, comes forth in the most guttural way. It’s a cry that carries away everyone in that arena. Where you go is up to you. Maybe you just want to drink beer on the hood of a Dodge. Maybe you want to race across that Jersey state line straight into the heart of darkness. Or maybe you want to go beneath the city, where the unspeakable awaits. But that’s Jungleland, right? Choose your path.

POST-SCRIPT:

Cue Jake…

Fast-forward to Gillette Stadium, Foxboro, Massachusetts, on August 18, 2012. The first time I heard “Jungleland” live since the tragic passing of Clarence Anicholas Clemons, Jr. From all accounts, this was only the second time the band had played this song post-Big Man. Many heads were turning as Soozie and Roy started their two-person symphony. Really? Could we be this lucky? We knew Jake Clemons had chops, but was he ready for this? His Uncle’s signature piece? Four minutes into the song we all found out. Jake delivered a gorgeous, soaring solo that would have brought out Clarence’s huge and beautiful smile. Perhaps the best part was watching Jake’s boss during the performance. He was so proud.

“Jungleland” is the final track  on Bruce Springsteen’s 1975 album “Born To Run”.