Coronation of Clarence Clemons
When we first heard your sax, we were blinded by the light; it was when your New Jersey boss began his first album with some Asbury Park greetings for you like a spirit in the night.
Your saxophone solo blew us away on Kitty’s Back, and it was on Bruce’s second album that we knew there was something wild and innocent about Rosalita with the E Street shuffle and attack.
Then came Born to Run, as the world began to listen to that wall of sound at hand; Thunder Road in the morning, She’s the One in the afternoon, and Night ended after that sax solo in Jungleland.
The darkness fell but not without one last fight, with your solo on Badlands that took us to the Promised Land, where you stood so ready to go racing in the street and prove it all night
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Time became the 1980’s when there was the E Street Band ramrodding out in the street, rocking all over the world, and driving all night with Sherry Darling’s mama yappin’ in the backseat.
It all got so big that Steve had to leave the E Street Band; it was your sax solo on Bobby Jean that reminded us how friendship keeps us from dancing in the dark, all alone in this hard land.
When Bruce chose to take a break from the band, I cried knowing that you’re a friend of mine, but I was just another crazy fan who was elated that it would all begin again in the year 1999.
Big Man, you were back with the Boss on the stage where we could see you as you would shine, standing right by Bruce’s side when you sang your soulful vocals on If I Should Fall Behind.
The Rising lifted our spirits from my city of ruins where we were waiting on a sunny day; you brought the power of the urban saxophone to free us from being trapped like some rural slave.
The magic of E Street was not enough to save Phantom Dan from taking his long walk home; friendship and love never die, just as when they built you, blood brother, they broke the mold.
Working on a dream of a new president and a brand new day, you played for one last tour and did it all in excruciating pain. Of course, not even the King of the World can always keep his gold-plated crown, and tonight there are teardrops on the city falling down like the hard rain.
Rest in peace, Big Man, and blow your saxophone in another world eternally for all to hear, the Big Man has left the building, his heart has stopped beating, and his lungs are no longer able to breathe in the air he needs to fill our lives with a saxophone solo that’s still ringing in our ear.
Tie a yellow ribbon around the 10th Avenue and E Street sign, take a stroll down the Boardwalk, give the Big Man your smile like the ties that bind; we’ll remember our Clarence: New Jersey’s King of the World got himself a nice little place in the stars where heavenly bands forever rock.
Paul Haider
