Springsteen played Houston twice on the Darkness tour: the first show was July 15, 1978, in the Sam Houston Coliseum, and the second show was December 8, 1978, at The Summit. The first show was less than one week before the Rolling Stones were to play the Coliseum on their Some Girls tour so it was one heck of a week for Houston concert fans.

It took some time to get used to his cleaned up image since it had been three years since Springsteen last played Houston next door at the Music Hall. There was some concern that as he changed his look maybe he had also changed his style of performance. But when he came onstage with the words “Gimme some lights. Houston long time, no see”, all doubt was gone. The show rocked — it was a classic multi hour show.

When he returned to Houston less than 6 months later playing to a much large crowd at the Summit, it felt as if the world was getting in on the secret. As a side note, a large billboard was erected over one of Houston’s freeways. Allegedly, Bruce and a few others scaled it in the middle of the night and added their own art work.

Bruce Kessler
rockinhouston.com

July 15, 1978- SAM HOUSTON COLISEUM, HOUSTON, TX
Set list

1. BADLANDS
2. NIGHT
3. SPIRIT IN THE NIGHT
4. DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN
5. FOR YOU
6. THE FEVER
7. THE PROMISED LAND
8. PROVE IT ALL NIGHT
9. RACING IN THE STREET
10. THUNDER ROAD
11. JUNGLELAND
12. PARADISE BY THE “C”
13. FIRE
14. CANDY’S ROOM
15. ADAM RAISED A CAIN
16. NOT FADE AWAY – SHE’S THE ONE
17. GROWIN’ UP
18. BACKSTREETS
19. ROSALITA (COME OUT TONIGHT)
20. THE PROMISE
21. BORN TO RUN
22. BECAUSE THE NIGHT
23. QUARTER TO THREE

December 8, 1978 – THE SUMMIT, HOUSTON, TX
Set list

1. BADLANDS
2. STREETS OF FIRE
3. IT’S HARD TO BE A SAINT IN THE CITY
4. DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN
5. SPIRIT IN THE NIGHT
6.  INDEPENDENCE DAY
7. THE PROMISED LAND
8. PROVE IT ALL NIGHT
9. RACING IN THE STREET
10. THUNDER ROAD
11. JUNGLELAND
12. THE TIES THAT BIND
13. SANTA CLAUS IS COMIN’ TO TOWN
14. THE FEVER
15. FIRE
16. CANDY’S ROOM
17. BECAUSE THE NIGHT
18. POINT BLANK
19. MONA
20. PREACHER’S DAUGHTER
21. SHE’S THE ONE
22. I GET MAD
23. BACKSTREETS
24. ROSALITA (COME OUT TONIGHT)
25. BORN TO RUN
26. DETROIT MEDLEY
27. TENTH AVENUE FREEZE-OUT
28. YOU CAN’T SIT DOWN
29. QUARTER TO THREE

Jason Mendelsohn and Eric Klinger
PopMatters: The Magazine of Global Culture

Klinger: For nearly 40 years, Bruce Springsteen has given countless rock critics a reason to get out of bed in the morning. His sincere sound is fully rooted in rock traditions, and his lyrics are usually reaching for Big Statements (except when they’re not, in which case they’re considered knowing riffs on party rockery). In fact, Springsteen is such a darling of the criterati that it’s more than a little surprising to me that it’s taken The Great List this long to get back around to one of his albums. The mathematical vagaries could have delivered us to the mega-hit Born in the U.S.A. or the grim, acoustic Nebraska (the Springsteen album that’s OK for indie types to like), but somehow we landed on 1978’s Darkness on the Edge of Town, Springsteen’s hard-earned follow-up to Born to Run.

I’m inclined to say that this choice seems about right. Darkness on the Edge of Town to me sounds like Springsteen in quintessence, what we talk about when we talk about Bruce Springsteen. The twinkly piano of Roy Bittan playing off the golden-toned organ sounds of Danny Federici, the lyrics chronicling the travails of blue-collar life, and the comfort we take in knowing that there’s a Clarence Clemons saxophone solo just around every corner. And epic conceptual pieces like “Jungleland” were given the old heave-ho. For years, when anyone did a Springsteen parody, loving homage, or blatant rip-off, this is the sound they drew from. So having said all that, Mendelsohn, your past experience with Bruce left you cold, but that was a long time ago and I’m sure you’ve grown considerably since then. Are you on the trolley this time around?

Mendelsohn: I can’t find my ticket. Well, that’s not entirely true. I just didn’t buy one. I spent all of my money on candy and whiskey. So . . . I’m just going to drunkenly chase the trolley down the street, jump on the back, and hope no one notices while I hang off the platform and wash down the rest of these Pixie Sticks with whatever is left in this bottle.

My appreciation for the Boss has increased since our last go around over two years ago. And while I have enjoyed my time with Darkness on the Edge of Town, I found myself going back and forth between real exuberance for this record and something registering slightly above complete apathy. What it really came down to was what song was playing at the time. I think I only really like certain things the Boss does while I can’t stand other aspects of Springsteen’s songwriting nature. I have a hard time taking Springsteen as a whole. I’m much more apt to really enjoy the raw energy of “Adam Raised a Cain” as opposed to the soaring melodrama of “Something in the Night”. In between those two aspects of Springsteen I find something like “Badlands”, and I’m trying to figure out if it’s the Springsteen I like or the Springsteen I could do without. Why do I have such a problem seeing the Bruce from the Springsteens?

Klinger: OK, let’s start out by saying “Badlands” is the Springsteen you like. Trust me.

But I think I see what you’re saying. Darkness on the Edge of Town marked the point where Springsteen started moving away from romanticizing his experience (and the experiences of the people he grew up with) and began more actively chronicling it. Born to Run was all mythology and the notions of a young man who was breaking free. And there are still some vestigial elements of that here on this album—“Something in the Night”, which you mentioned, “Streets of Fire”, maybe the title track.

Those numbers that are lyrically unvarnished are, I agree, the strongest, though, and that may be a function of the process by which this album came into being. After the success of Born to Run, Springsteen ended up embroiled in a protracted legal battle with his manager, Mike Appel. As a result, he was effectively barred from recording, and that artistic (and financial) frustration had to have taken a toll on him just as he was surely hoping to take a victory lap. There’s nothing romantic about endless contractual disputes, and that dismal drabbery had to be informing his approach.

Mendelsohn: Darkness on the Edge of Town is indeed a much bleaker album than Born to Run. I think that’s what I like about this record. Born to Run was too glossy in its over-romanticization of suburban escapism. The escapism is still present in Darkness on the Edge of Town, but it has taken on a much darker tone as the harsh truths of reality start to creep in around the seams. I find it sad in a way that real life beat the untarnished, optimistic escapism out of most of his songs. But those songs that move away from the mythology into the darker side of real life feel much more true to my ears. “Candy’s Room” is one of those songs that cuts closer to the truth, as Bruce details a young man’s naive love of the damaged Candy.

For me though, the true masterpiece on this album is “Factory”. There is something Dylan-esque about Springsteen’s take on the working life, and like all good Dylan songs, there is a twist at the end of “Factory”, that hits me every time I hear it. I like that dose of realism, I like the fact that Springsteen has muddied his escapism with the sadness and desperation of reality. Like real life there are the high and lows, the desperation and redemption. I know that’s what Springsteen was ultimately trying to achieve, and I like it much more than I thought I would.

Klinger: Well, good. For a long time I had been worried that younger generations were having trouble seeing past Springsteen’s baggage (the terrible ‘80s videos, the fact that people seem to want to call him “the Boss”). But Darkness on the Edge of Town might actually be a pretty good point of entry for the uninitiated. For one thing, Bruce made a conscious decision to favor guitar solos on this album—he felt they were less in your face than sax solos, and it also helps dispel some people’s preconceptions.

I must disagree with you, though, and state for the record that the album’s defining moment is in fact “Racing in the Street”. I’ve been listening to this album for going on 30 years, and it’s only recently hit me how powerfully constructed that song is. It’s a straightforward enough drag racing ballad at first, but then at 2:37 (right after the Martha and the Vandellas drop), there’s a joyous little interlude. Then thirty seconds later, it’s gone and we’re in a tale of a sad young couple—two people who bought into the beautiful sucker myth of “Thunder Road”. Suddenly the same Martha and the Vandellas reference at 4:43 takes us into a mournful build-up as these people solemnly make their way toward some form of redemption. And it’s all the sadder because you kind of know they aren’t going to make it. Springsteen and the E Street Band create those little moments throughout the album (the constant escalation of tensions in the first part of “Candy’s Room” is a great example), but I was taken aback by the subtlety on “Racing in the Street”. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m a little choked up right now.

Mendelsohn: Dry your eyes, Klinger. Seeing a grown man weep at the beauty of rock ‘n’ roll makes me feel weird.

It’s not that I don’t agree with your interpretation of “Racing in the Street”—I do, I agree wholeheartedly. “Racing in the Street” is the song that anchors this album. As the last song on side one, it will leave you thinking as you pull yourself from the chair to flip the record, questioning whether or not you want to continue living in Bruce Springsteen’s world (even if there is much less saxophone). But then all of that sadness seems like a distant memory as Springsteen tears into the optimistic “The Promised Land” (and its sweet, sweet guitar solo—followed by the obligatory sax solo—followed by a surprising harmonica solo).

I will maintain, however, that the song “Factory” remains the true emotional centerpiece on this album. After the uplifting “The Promised Land”, “Factory” starts off with what sounds like an ode to steady employment, but ends with the realization that the monotony of such jobs can be soul crushing while breeding disdain, desolation, and violence. And if you want to talk about a great little moment created by Springsteen and the E Street Band, I would direct your attention to the last verse of “Factory” when Springsteen sings, “And you just better believe, boy, somebody’s gonna get hurt tonight”. On the word “hurt” Max Weinberg hits the crash cymbals to add just enough extra emphasis to send shivers down my spine. Every time I hear it, Klinger, every time.

Klinger: Well with all the shivering and welling up, this has turned into a curiously emotional Counterbalance. But that’s not surprising, I reckon. The 1978 Springsteen was a raw nerve, coping with the frustrations that arise when romantic dreams become day-to-day realities. That’s what comes through on Darkness on the Edge of Town—that realization that even when you do get what you want, you still got to live it every day.

Discover the limited edition Bruce Springsteen book, The Light in Darkness.
The Light In Darkness is a collector’s edition, we are almost sold out. Less than 200 copies remain.
A great companion piece to The Promise box set, it focuses on the 1978 Darkness on The Edge of Town album and tour.
Read about the iconic concerts from fans who were there – the Agora, Winterland, Roxy, MSG, Capitol Theatre, Boston Music Hall, The Spectrum and over seventy more!
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The Light in Darkness

On Aug. 9, 1978, Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band played the Agora in a performance broadcast live on WMMS. It has since become the most famous Springsteen bootleg of all time. The show was part of a free small-club tour Columbia Records hoped would revive The Boss’ fame, after it began to fade following Born to Run. The man who made WMMS into an FM rock giant, John Gorman, brought Springsteen to town for that show and was in the audience.

The Agora was the best rock club in America. I’ve been to rock clubs in a lot of cities during the same period of time and nothing compared to what we had at East 24th Street.

Cleveland was in chaos at the time. City services were falling apart, the crime rate, everything. … 1978 was the best of times and the worst of times. But the one thing that was happening — the most positive thing in Cleveland — was rock ‘n’ roll. If you were young, you knew you were living in the hotbed of rock ‘n’ roll.

Springsteen played much longer than he was supposed to. You can always tell a person who was really at that show because they get so passionate they’ll talk your ear off. I’ve seen many, many, many concerts over the decades, and nothing compares to the electricity I saw that night. It was one of those things where the audience and the band were in a mind meld. Watching that show, it was just like one high after another. It just kept building and building, and building and building. … Max Weinberg, the drummer, said it was the best concert they’d ever done in their life.

The only thing that went wrong that night is Springsteen did a second encore, which was “Twist and Shout,” that did not get broadcast originally. Luckily, they ran tape on it. If you listen to the bootlegs, you’ll hear that it’s slightly different fidelity than the rest of it.

In those days, radio ratings were different. … We were only rated for 16 weeks out of the year and this Springsteen concert happened outside of ratings. I remember it being a hot, sticky, rainy, kind of terrible August evening. So, people weren’t outdoors. They were inside. Those radios had to be cranking everywhere.
We were already calling ourselves the rock ‘n’ roll capital of the world. But that night with that Agora concert, we proved it. The only thing I could say after that concert was: “What are we going to do next? How do we top this thing?”

— as told to Jim Vickers
Clevelandmagazine.com

Discover the limited edition Bruce Springsteen book, The Light in Darkness.
The Light In Darkness is a collector’s edition, we are almost sold out. Less than 200 copies remain.
A great companion piece to The Promise box set, it focuses on the 1978 Darkness on The Edge of Town album and tour.
Read about the iconic concerts from fans who were there – the Agora, Winterland, Roxy, MSG, Capitol Theatre, Boston Music Hall, The Spectrum and over seventy more!
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The Light in Darkness

A quiz on Bruce Springsteen’s 1978 classic fourth album, Darkness on the Edge of Town. Questions are gleaned from the album itself, the 2010 documentary on its composition, and several other sources.

Click here to take the quiz now: Darkness Quiz

Discover the limited edition Bruce Springsteen book, The Light in Darkness.
The Light In Darkness is a collector’s edition, we are almost sold out. Less than 200 copies remain.
A great companion piece to The Promise box set, it focuses on the 1978 Darkness on The Edge of Town album and tour.
Read about the iconic concerts from fans who were there – the Agora, Winterland, Roxy, MSG, Capitol Theatre, Boston Music Hall, The Spectrum and over seventy more!
Click Here to Order Now and Save on Shipping:
The Light in Darkness

I connected with Darkness on the Edge of Town, Bruce Springsteen’s 1978 follow-up to Born to Run, before I ever heard a note.

The album cover grabbed me while I was thumbing through a sea of records I inherited from my father. I wasn’t a Bruce Springsteen fan at the time — I had heard a few choice hits like “Born to Run” — but I hadn’t connected with him, his music or his vision of the American Dream.

But Darkness grabbed me before I heard a single note. Springsteen’s eyes, dog-tired-but-intense, stare defiant from the cover. That feeling, of fatigue and resilience, of exhaustion and heart, set the tone for my first listen.

I sat down on my floor with headphones on, drink in hand, and spun the record. It was love at first listen — it felt older and wiser than Run. It sets up Bruce’s later body of work; his first ode to an unromanticized working class with big dreams.

Darkness tells stories about troubled people who never quite make it — they all want to get out of their current situation because they think life has more to offer, but they’re struggling to get where they want to be. Instead of whining, they spit in misfortune’s face and hit the road to finally find a little more of whatever they’re looking for.

The opening track, “Badlands,” is my favorite. It’s the perfect example of a twenty-something who knows life isn’t perfect or fair, but who still has the youthful heart and drive to change. It’s hard not to roll down the windows and sing it at the top of your lungs.

My friends pick on me — they say I filter everything out for the positive. I’m sure there are plenty of people who hear Darkness as a record of sad stories, but I can’t help but be inspired. I love the grit of the characters. I love their defiance.

We peek in on these characters in the middle of their “American Dream” story; they haven’t achieved it, but they’re doing the best they can. You can see that as sad, but I see it as inspiring. It’s nice to hear stories about people who are trying their best to better themselves rather than giving up — Bruce’s characters rarely give up.

patrick mears

Discover the limited edition Bruce Springsteen book, The Light in Darkness.
The Light In Darkness is a collector’s edition, we are almost sold out. Less than 200 copies remain.
A great companion piece to The Promise box set, it focuses on the 1978 Darkness on The Edge of Town album and tour.
Read about the iconic concerts from fans who were there – the Agora, Winterland, Roxy, MSG, Capitol Theatre, Boston Music Hall, The Spectrum and over seventy more!
Click Here to Order Now and Save on Shipping:
The Light in Darkness

In 1978 Bruce Springsteen embarked on a grand tour that would prove legendary; a tour that would create a mark for all other tours to reach. The 29 year-old Springsteen had just released his fourth album, Darkness on the Edge of Town, a bleak and darkly realistic version of his breakthrough previous album Born to Run. Unlike its predecessor, Darkness on the Edge of Town did not capture youthful spirits and set them alight. It took youthful hopes and dreams and turned them into ashes. There is to this day speculation as to why his next album was such a departure from the album that cast him into the limelight; whether it was his legal dispute with former manager Mike Appel or if it was something more personal and private no one knows for sure. What is certain, however, is that Darkness on the Edge of Town was not only a wild departure but a dangerous one. After the unheard of success of Born to Run (putting him on the cover of both Time and Newsweek in the same week, the first non-world leader to do so) he disappeared for 2 years and several where-are-they-now articles were published. But during the latter stages of those 2 years he was moulding a masterpiece.

In 1978 he finally released his long awaited (and at the time, almost forgotten) album. And the fans were… confused. Where was the young man of Born to Run who wanted to take life at the collar and make it his own? Where was the boy who knew that two lanes could take him anywhere? The boy who would run with his lover until they dropped, who knew there was a place where he’d walk in the sun? He was gone, dead, buried. Fans and critics alike couldn’t understand why this kid would so dramatically change his image when it had so dramatically propelled him to success. But change it he did. And thank God.

Lawrence Kirsch’s 208 page epic documents the now legendary Darkness Tour from May ’78 to January ’79. Each date and venue has their own heading in bold blue letters to give an easy-to-follow and clear lay out. The entire book is neatly compiled and formatted almost like an encyclopaedia of the 1978 tour. Under each heading are usually 3, perhaps 4, fan-written accounts of their personal experiences at each individual venue. Springsteen is famous among fans for doing something new every performance, making every show unique. From reading these accounts it is clear that this really started on the Darkness Tour. Many of the accounts talk of how sceptical rock fans shambled into small theatres to see what the fuss was about and then how they left the theatre shaking and buzzing with adrenaline. There are certainly more than one mentions of Springsteen entering the crowd and blasting them with a guitar solo, shredding energy from the strings and propelling it through the room and through the fans.

Although I greatly enjoyed reading these fan accounts, and was excited myself by their insight, it is only a book for real Springsteen fans. More specifically than that though, fans of Darkness on the Edge of Town. Casual fans of either Springsteen or the album perhaps will not enjoy reading about what other people have to say. Understandably, it can be quite tedious to read about an experience you wish you saw but couldn’t have. It is easy to get jealous of these fans and I found myself irritated at some points of the book because some accounts are so incredible to read about that I was filled with envy. That is not necessarily a bad thing because I always went back to the book and continued reading, as many people will. Being 18 years old, I obviously could never have seen the ’78 tour and am eternally disappointed. After reading the book however, and then seeing Springsteen at Hyde Park in July 2012, I was able to see that he is the most consistent performer in rock history. A bold statement but one lined with truth. At 62 he paraded around the stage with the same vigour and enthusiasm as the fans describe in Kirsch’s book.

It is a fascinating book to read, especially as a younger fan. While reading it for the first time I felt like I was reading a history text book in conjunction with an enjoyable novel. It contains the facts and the true events but also some mythical elements that some of the more imaginative fans bring to it. Stories which are maybe exaggerated by memory are told of Springsteen singing or playing guitar directly to them, or how a simple twist of fate placed life-changing tickets into their hands. Whether these small details are fact or fiction is irrelevant as it proves for an interesting read with several passages making me genuinely smile.

As well as accounts of the shows themselves, some of the most enjoyable passages in the book are the ones about how the particular fans first got into Springsteen’s music or the journey they went on to acquire tickets. I was forever reminded that they “didn’t have the internet in those days” and how tickets were much harder to come by. But, what I found most novel of all, how much cheaper the tickets were. My ticket to see Springsteen earlier this year cost me close to 70 pounds (roughly 114 dollars) yet there are stories of fans paying a mere 8 dollars. Obviously, Springsteen wasn’t as huge as he is now but it’s so difficult to imagine now that I couldn’t help but grin at the novelty of it all.

Other than the accounts themselves, the book is beautifully presented. I own several Springsteen books and have researched several others yet I have never seen one that contained so many quality photographs. Some of the photographs in the book are rare while others have become iconic over the years but all of them are incredible to look at. The high quality photos are printed on photographic pages which give the book a glossy and highly professional appearance. After reading the book, you could easily go back through it one hundred times over just to look at the pictures. Pictures of Springsteen rocking, having fun, teasing the audience, saddling up to Clarence and many more.

Without a doubt, I enjoyed the photos most of all in this book. The book is A3 in size and so contain several photos on almost every page. I cannot praise the photos in this book highly enough and would recommend the book solely based on them. The book, of course, is so much more than just pictures and words though. Like any book, whether it be fiction or non-fiction, this tells a story. It’s a story that most readers of the book will already have heard in one form or another but seems so much fresher and touching when it’s a first-hand account.

This is perhaps the perfect time to purchase this book, not just because of Christmas but because Springsteen seems to have come in a complete circle. On his most recent tour (the Wrecking Ball Tour) he has reintroduced the extended introduction for Prove It All Night which debuted on his ’78 tour. The themes that run through Darkness on the Edge of Town can also be found on Wrecking Ball and the economic and social troubles from ’78 are now present once more. Springsteen even wore some of the same clothes then and now, notably a black tie, waistcoat and blue shirt. Springsteen is fully aware of his fans, what they want and what they expect and reading this book only drives home the fact that he has always been aware.

All in all, this book is simply a must have for any Springsteen fan anywhere. I’m 18 and live in England yet I feel fully connected to the 63 year old Jersey-dweller. This book not only enforces that connection to Springsteen but strengthens invisible bonds between you and the fans who help write the book. Lawrence Kirsch should be commended for compiling all of these fan accounts, some found on blogs, others elsewhere. The accounts are detailed and sometimes amusing and inspiring but always interesting. The photos are beyond amazing to look at, as are the pages themselves. The book is jam-packed with information, stories, rarities, pictures and Springsteen. All of this is found inside the beautiful, glossy black cover found with this special limited edition book. You like Springsteen? You’ll like the book. It’s that simple.

The book The Light in Darkness is only available on line and printed in a limited edition. Less than 200 copies remain.

Aaron Gillie
fromunderthestairs

Bruce Springsteen in crowd at Madison Square Garden, August 1978

For the next two months we’ll be posting an excerpt from Peter Chianca’s eBook Glory Days: Springsteen’s Greatest Albums, which analyzes eight of Springsteen’s most groundbreaking albums and then argues which one should be considered “the greatest.” This week, a selection from the chapter on Darkness on the Edge of Town:

On side 1, “Racing in the Street” was and remains a towering achievement for Springsteen. It’s a story song that takes its time to introduce its sad characters, moving from the narrator’s car – the famous “’69 Chevy with a 396” – to his friend Sonny, and eventually to the “little girl” whose dreams will die a slow, hard death. It’s unyielding in its utter realism and its depiction of the choices most of us face, one worse than the next – and it fastidiously avoids a happy ending.

Instead, it moves into an extended instrumental conclusion that’s held together by the gloriously intertwined keyboard work of Danny Federici and Roy Bittan. It’s a masterful, slow-building coda that takes the character’s hard and complicated emotions and somehow wordlessly builds on them. You can imagine the narrator and his girl, the one who “hates for just being born,” slow-dancing to it at dusk, for just those few minutes managing to stave off the pain.

That song’s counterpart on side 2, the album-closing title track, is more allegorical but equally uncompromising. Its narrator has lost his money and his marriage, and has a dark secret that he may cut loose, or that may drag him down – either way, the price of wants and dreams of any kind seems too great to bear.

Musically, like a lot of the other songs on Darkness, it builds and ebbs, then builds again, the thump of Garry Tallent’s bass giving way to Weinberg’s masterful, deliberately punctuated percussion and Bittan’s powerful piano. Through it all, Springsteen yells and grunts – “huh!” – and his distant groan is the last voice you hear as the album fades.

But maybe even more telling are the songs that follow “Racing” and lead into “Darkness.” First, “The Promised Land” picks up where “Badlands” leaves off, its hero promising that he’s “gonna take charge,” and sounding like he means it when he talks of taking a knife to the pain in his heart. And “Prove It All Night,” the album’s penultimate track, comes closest to breaking Springsteen’s promise to leave the album bereft of love songs. That edict benefited Darkness as a whole, but at the same time it serves to make “Prove It” even more resonant in its faith in the redemptive power of love and human relationships. It argues that such redemption is possible if you want it enough to take it – and that it can be worth the price if you do.

You can download Glory Days: Springsteen’s Greatest Albums at Amazon or Amazon UK. And if you don’t have a Kindle, don’t worry: You can download free Kindle software.

Celebrate the Holiday Season with Bruce Springsteen.
Discover the limited edition Bruce Springsteen book, The Light in Darkness.
The Light In Darkness is a collector’s edition, we are almost sold out. Less than 225 copies remain.
A great companion piece to The Promise box set, it focuses on the 1978 Darkness on The Edge of Town album and tour.
Read about the iconic concerts from fans who were there – the Agora, Winterland, Roxy, MSG, Capitol Theatre, Boston Music Hall, The Spectrum and over seventy more! And for a limited time, we are offering a Bonus color 8″ x 10″ photo from the Wrecking Ball tour with every book purchase.
A perfect gift for the holidays!
Click Here to Order Now and Save on Shipping:
The Light in Darkness

Colin Rafferty

Elizabeth and I took our first road trip a few months into our relationship. As the miles went by on the interstate, I changed CDs, one hand on the wheel while the other one slid the discs into and out of the 24-disc wallet I’d used for a decade.

Elizabeth fidgeted in her seat, a move that I’d come to recognize as signifying agitation and discomfort.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You keep changing the music,” she said. “On trips, I just leave the same CD in the whole time.”

“The whole time?”

“The whole time.”

***

As we went on, from dating to engagement to marriage, I learned this about Elizabeth: she would listen to the same CD, sometimes the same song, over and over and over. For me, a former record store employee with a music collection that overtook an apartment wall, music was about discovery, the chance to hear something before anyone else, the chance to love a band or singer-songwriter at ground level, to say you heard them first.

But Elizabeth taught me there was beauty in repetition. Listening three times in a row unlocked nuances in albums I thought I already knew. A fourth listen made the experience transcendent; a fifth sent it back down to its most human core.

Elizabeth loved Bruce Springsteen more than any other artist. She’d go through phases with single albums; for a long time, she played Born to Run. (Once, as the CD started over, I reached for the eject button. Over piano and harmonica, Elizabeth grabbed for my hand. “You don’t fuck with ‘Thunder Road,’” she said.) On a trip to Arizona, she discovered our rental car had satellite radio, and we listened almost exclusively to E Street Radio. For birthdays and anniversaries, I bought her CD copies of the albums she’d grown up listening to, and we’d listen to them together, arguing about whether the live version’s energy surpassed the studio version’s precision. We decorated our first Christmas tree while the video of Hammersmith Odeon, London ’75 played, Springsteen in his stocking cap our version of Saint Nick.

***

Bruce Springsteen Darkness on the Edge of Town

For our second wedding anniversary, I bought her 1978’s Darkness on the Edge of Town, Springsteen’s first album after his breakthrough with Born to Run.

Elizabeth loved the album, and it took up permanent residence in our car. We sung along wherever we went, sometimes skipping ahead to our favorite tracks: “Badlands,” the album’s opener, with its “whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa” lead-in to the chorus; “Racing in the Street,” a sad lament of lost hopes and dreams denied. “Candy’s Room” was my favorite song, because the rush I felt when Max Weinberg’s drums kicked in as Springsteen sang, “We kiss / my heart’s pumping to my brain” reminded me of the first time Elizabeth and I had kissed, a moment all nerves and passion, the kind of chance for glory that so many of the songs strove for and never found.

Going by number of plays, the final and title track, “Darkness on the Edge of Town,” was Elizabeth’s favorite. Springsteen had followed his “four corners” approach, in which each side started out bright and hopeful, and then closed with that hope unraveled. In the dark, as we drove home, hope twice unraveled, Elizabeth would softly sing. “Now some folks are born into a good life / Other folks, they just get it anyway, anyhow,” she whispered over Springsteen. She claimed she had no talent for song, but as the miles of the interstate slipped by on our return to our home, I loved the sound of her voice more than anything else in this world.

***

I got the phone call about her brother at a departmental end-of-semester party on a Wednesday afternoon. Unconscious, the voice on the other end said. We don’t know what will happen. By the time we’d gotten packed and shuttled the dog to the kennel, we knew that we were driving down to say goodbye to him, that at the end of that road from Virginia to Alabama was a bed surrounded by machines to be switched off one by one.

We loaded our suitcases into the trunk and laid the garment bag with a black suit and black dress on top of it. I sat in the driver’s seat, and as I turned the key, I pressed the button to switch from CD to radio. I knew that whatever we listened to for the drive would forever be the Music We Listened To On the Way There, and I wanted not to ruin the album for Elizabeth.

From the passenger seat, her voice tiny, she whispered, “Thank you.”

We drove, our soundtrack the top-40 stations of the Southeast, I-95 to I-85 to I-20, hoping to stay ahead of a winter storm coming in from the west. We listened to music that would vanish in six months. I had never been more grateful for the disposability of pop music. We pulled into the hospital parking lot at three in the morning, and in the moment between shutting off the car’s engine and opening the door to her waiting father, there was a brief moment of silence, the first I’d heard in hours.

***

We sold that car a few months ago. We hadn’t really driven it since it developed some problems that no mechanic seemed able to diagnose, and we’d bought a new car. I cleaned out the old car, pulling out the detritus of a hundred trips. Dozens of maps, brochures from historical sites and national parks, stale Cheetos. I found four pens between the passenger seat and door, lost as Elizabeth worked on trips while I drove.

Under the center console, I found Darkness on the Edge of Town, the CD case sticky with spilled soda. Springsteen still stared out from the cover, white T-shirt and black leather jacket, window behind him. We hadn’t listened to it since the day before the phone call, seventeen months earlier.

We haven’t listened to it since, either.

Colin Rafferty lives in Virginia, where he teaches nonfiction writing at the University of Mary Washington. Recent essays have appeared in Witness, Utne Reader, and elsewhere. He’s currently at work on a series of essays about the Presidents.

Bruce Springsteen, Palace Theater, Albany, NY, 1978

Bruce Springsteen’s show at the Music Hall in Boston on December 3, 1975, is what I remember the most. I still think it might have been the best concert I ever witnessed from over 1000 shows I’ve attended and photographed. I was an admirer since Greetings from Asbury Park was released. I did see him as “the new Dylan” with all the words and content. I connected to it the same way I did to Dylan. My college buddies didn’t care for it, even made fun of it and ridiculed me for liking it. One day there was a contest by DJ Ellen at Midnight on WQBK in Albany to win a copy of the just released LP. All you had to do was call up. Nobody did for over an hour. I was working in my darkroom in my apartment and finally, after many pleas from Ellen over the air, I just called up and claimed the album. Boy, am I glad I did.

Bruce Springsteen, RPI Fieldhouse, Troy, NY, 1978

My friends dissed it entirely – “trite, too wordy, stupid, immature” is what they thought. Walter, Don, Larry, and Dennis are the same guys that couldn’t stand Jackson’s “Late For The Sky” or Neil’s “Harvest” and preferred the first Led Zeppelin, Mott The Hopple, Slade and NY Dolls. This was eventually funny because one night a few years later they called me from their new digs in Swampscott, Massachusetts and offered me a ticket to Bruce at the Music Hall the next night. They had scored tickets and Dennis had to work and couldn’t attend. I dropped everything and headed to Boston.

I remember Bruce ending that show being carried off the stage on a stretcher by medics after collapsing on stage [damn, it seemed real], only to throw back the sheet at the curtains, leap up and go full speed ahead into another string of songs. When the show finally ended the doors opened to the streets of Boston, but many fans held their ground and kept making noise. As the hall was emptying out and with the house lights on, Bruce came bounding back again and shouted, “Don’t believe everything they tell you” and launched into second extended encore. Fans ran back into the theater accompanied by others who had not even been to the show but saw the pandemonium on the street and the open doors and ran in. He manically plunged into his Detroit Medley and played another 30 minutes.

Bruce Springsteen, RPI Fieldhouse, Troy, NY, 1978

When the show was announced for Albany in 1978 I had started shooting music concerts for local publications, but learned that no photographs were allowed and cameras were not permitted to any Bruce show for this tour. I don’t recall much about the show, except stuffing a Leica M4 in my jeans and my companion hiding a 135mm lens in hers. I think the tour had started the night before in Buffalo and was heading to Philadelphia and Boston after Albany. The show was mildly disappointing to me, since I was unfamiliar with the new Darkness album material that had not been released yet. I still wanted to see the 1975 Bruce! I snuck taking my photos and got one really good one of Clarence and Bruce, shoulder to shoulder, jamming. The next day I called the Village Voice to offer the photograph, but they said their photographer would shoot the show in NYC. Knowing that no photographers were being given credentials and people were being searched for cameras I just sent the photo to the Voice anyway. The next Thursday when I got the paper up in Albany my picture was published. It was my first nationally published photograph and the beginning of my business RockShots® which has continued on to now, photographing music concerts for the last 35 years.

Martin Benjamin Village Voice Photo Pass

Later in the fall, The Darkness tour came back through, playing at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in the RPI Fieldhouse on November 12, 1978. The night of the show I felt bummed I wasn’t going so I just grabbed my camera and drove over to Troy, NY and bought a $5 ticket from a frat guy selling lots of them outside the arena. With my Nikon FM camera and 200mm lens under my jacket, I just walked in. I never went to my seat. I just kept heading up to the stage from all angles where the same guy would scream at me from the edge of the stage to stop, move back and go away [Jon Landau?]. I managed to photograph the show from much closer, figuring if I got thrown out it was worth the $5. I shot the whole show. I remember it more vividly than the May show in Albany. Bruce was flying around the stage, leaping in the air over and over, and the show had much more energy. Maybe it was a bigger stage than Albany, or it was just much later in the tour and the performances had skyrocketed. I knew the material by then and it did blow me away.

Bruce Springsteen, RPI Fieldhouse, Troy, NY, 1978

This summer I photographed Bruce in Fenway Park, and that concert was a throwback to 1978 – a nice touch for everyone attending, but especially to me, over thirty years later.
For me, the two best Bruce shows, out of about 8 or 9 I’ve seen, are ironically the first and last ones – December 3, 1975 at the Music Hall in Boston and August 15, 2012 – the second night in Fenway. Not that any of the others ones were ever disappointing, but the bookends 38 years apart were, by far, the best for me!

©Martin Benjamin

You can view a selection of Martin Benjamin’s original photography here:
www.martinbenjamin.com

David Levenson

“Those jokers in the front row were so close I thought I’d have to introduce them with the band”.
The quote was from Bruce Springsteen in a review printed in the Detroit Free Press Oct. 5. 1975, the day after I had witnessed the single greatest live event of my life.

Thanks to my job as a ticket taker at the Michigan Palace and my father’s insistence that we see Bruce live, we ended up as one of the lucky few sitting in that front row. From the moment Bruce literally flung himself into the audience and on top of my father, I was hooked. Thirty-seven years and more than thirty shows later, I’m still hooked.

Original 1978 Bruce Springsteen Painting by David Levenson

I had been studying and practicing art since early in high school when I saw Bruce again in February of 1977. Once more in the front row, I decided to shoot some photographs that I could use as reference for a painting. My earlier works had been encouraging, and in fact I had already sold six portraits to the rock-soul group WAR who I had been a fan of since 1973. Not even the fact that one of the members of the group had bounced two checks on me could deter me from a career in art!
The reasons for doing a portrait were obvious to me. Bruce was the one artist-musician who captured everything I thought an artist should be. He was passionate, hard working, dramatic, moral, and topped it off with a tremendous sense of humor.

The ’77 show supplied me with enough good photos to compose my painting of Bruce. I started working on it later that year while attending college at Wayne State University in downtown Detroit. I wanted to have it completed by the next time the E Street Band came through town.
The “Darkness on the Edge of Town” tour had begun in May of 1978 and it wad announced that the band would play the Masonic Temple auditorium on September 1. This would be my best opportunity to show Bruce my work. After phoning around, I finally located the bands hotel, the Renaissance Centre, along Detroit’s waterfront.

On the day of the concert I went to my parents’ home to borrow their car so that I could transport the large painting to the hotel. My dad took one look at the clothes I was wearing, raggedy jeans and a paint stained shirt, and demanded that I put on something nice if I expected to meet Bruce Springsteen. My protests unheeded, I relented and ended up wearing a pair of dress paints and a freshly pressed shirt.

It was late afternoon by the time my friend Leo Yassy arrived to help me get the painting to the hotel. The crate I had constructed for transport was over 65″ long and stuck halfway out of the trunk. As we pulled into the hotel parking space another auto backing out rear-ended my dad’s car, smashing the crate in the process. Leo screamed at the driver of the other car while I stood by in shock, staring at the mangled crate imagining the damage inside to my painting. However, my fears were groundless because luckily, the painting was unharmed.

We finally hauled the 75lb. crate into the hotel lobby and word spread rapidly that there was a great Springsteen painting waiting for the “Boss” to see. One by one, members of the band and crew filed down to the lobby to get ready to depart for the nights show. They each shook my hand and told me how much they liked my painting.

Bruce and Jon Landau were the last to come down to the lobby. I was sure that by that time they had heard I was there with my painting. As Bruce finally arrived in the lobby, he could see the painting propped up against the wall as he approached.

“How come you’re so dressed up,” he asked as he shook my hand. I could only laugh to myself.
We talked for a short time and he told me how good he thought my painting was. He asked if I was coming to the show that night and I informed him that I had been unable to get tickets. Bruce immediately responded, “Don’t worry about that”.

Note From Jon Landau

Jon Landau approached me as Bruce and I were finishing our conversation and asked me if I was selling the piece and, if so, for how much. I had not been prepared for this question. Without time to think, I responded,” $500.” Landau said he would need time to think about it. He told me that he would leave me four tickets at the box office for the nights show. At that time I was to come around to the side of the stage to see if he would be interested in purchasing the work. I was walking on air.
I phoned two more friends to meet me at the Masonic Temple for the concert. When I arrived at the box office, my tickets were waiting along with a note from Jon Landau informing me that they were not interested in purchasing the painting, but Bruce and he greatly appreciated my showing it to them.
The seats and the show were fantastic. I was feeling great about the whole experience. One of the roadies who had been at the hotel saw me at the show and told me that Bruce never buys artwork of himself. That eased my disappointment.

Three months later I entered the painting titled “Religious Rock” in an art show at the Detroit Artists Market. Within days Stuart Eisenberg, an attorney and Bruce Springsteen devotee, purchased the painting. It was my first painting sold out of an art gallery.

Having lived in Chicago now since 1980 I occasionally find myself coming back to Bruce as a subject matter for my work.

Hopefully with each new canvas I have captured another facet of what Bruce Springsteen has meant to me.