The lights in Moody Center go down, and thousands of people lift their voices in the semidarkness with a chant of, “Bruuuuuuuuuuuuce! Bruuuuuuuuuuuce!” The elongated vowel gives an eerie effect to the cheering. From my seat above the back edge of the stage, I can see down into the underworld beneath stage level, and I spot several band members exiting a tunnel and moving quickly to the stairs leading up to the stage. Is one of them Springsteen? I can’t tell.

With the lights still down, slow chords sound from the organ, the rich tones filling the venue. Cheering grows louder before instantly ebbing at the unmistakable voice that calls out, “Good evening, Austin!” and an answering roar from the crowd makes my ears ring.

The concert goers in general admission begin jumping and packing-in even tighter towards the stage as a spotlight illuminates the stoic visage of The Boss, cozied up to a mic stand with one hand in his pocket and the other on the microphone. Before I have a chance to wonder what song he’ll start with, Springsteen begins what will be the first of several monologues tonight, each one a pointed and heartfelt call to return to what made our country great. 

In this first message, Bruce tells the audience that he and his band give thanks that no one, including Trump, was harmed in the incident at the Press Dinner, because violence is not the answer. Then he dedicates the concert to our service men and women, with a prayer for their speedy return safely home, because “WAR!” he bellows, “What is it good for?” And the crowd understands the assignment, singing back, “Absolutely nothing!”

Edwin Starr’s “War” opens the first musical set, and the air is electric. Bruce is locked -in, his passionate focus palpable. It is hard to believe that this man, energetically moving around the stage and playing the living heck out of his guitars, is 76 years old. 

This is the first Springsteen concert I have attended, and in all honesty, I do not consider myself a fan (though I realize that fact may be changing tonight). The top radio hits for Bruce and his E Street Band include “Born to Run,” and “Thunder Road,” big, heavy, old school Rock n’ Roll that has never really spoken to me. But the concert tonight is different. It feels thoughtful and purposeful, and invites introspection. Bruce has chosen a setlist that highlights songs that haven’t been top radio hits (with a few exceptions, like “Born in the USA” that Bruce and his band deliver like a sonic boom).

The highlight of the concert for me, is the interaction on stage between Bruce and his band. The Boss is quick to turn to the side, or to the back of the stage, or stare in adoration when another bandmate takes a solo, giving them the limelight. I watch him call his sax player down to the front of the stage. My partner, Strickland, for whom this concert is a bucket list item, leans over and yells into my ear, “that‘s Jake Clemmons! His uncle Clarence was the band’s original sax player!” 

I turn to look at Strickland, his eyes riveted on the stage, his legs bouncing to the beat, his right hand clenching and unclenching unconsciously with excitement. Looking back to the stage, I watch as Bruce smiles wide at Jake, who is transforming his saxophone into an auditory extension of human emotion, filling the arena with melody birthed from the heart.

An hour later, Jake, who happens to be black man, is playing another solo. The song is “American Skin,” written by Springsteen in 2001– a protest song written about the 1999 killing of Amadou Diallo, an unarmed Guinean immigrant shot 19 times by four NYPD officers who fired 41 shots. After the saxophone solo, Jake moves to center stage and raises both arms, hands in the air as the lyrics of the song twist my heart into a knot:

41 shots, Liana gets her son ready for school

She says, “On these streets, Charles, you’ve got to understand the rules

If an officer stops you, promise me you’ll always be polite

And that you’ll never ever run away

Promise Mama you’ll keep your hands in sight”

Is it a gun? (Is it a gun?)

Is it a knife? (Is it a knife?)

Is it a wallet? (Is it a wallet?)

This is your life (this is your life)

It ain’t no secret (it ain’t no secret)

It ain’t no secret (it ain’t no secret)

No secret my friend

You can get killed just for living in your American skin

Jake’s hands remain in the air for the entire second half of the song, his saxophone hanging, soundless, on his chest. I feel tears well up in my eyes and my chest grows tight, and I figure– a darkened arena is as good a place as any to weep. Tears roll down my cheeks and Strickland grabs my hand tightly, I turn my face into his shoulder. It hurts so much, the knowing…that this country, the one I was taught to respect and love, is a place where innocent people keep dying.

I didn’t walk into the Moody Center tonight as a fan of Bruce and his E Street Band, but what he built tonight was community, and I’m leaving as an admirer of his music and his message. 

I want to close this article with words from The Boss himself, spoken into a packed arena. He is sitting on the edge of the stage, surely exhausted from two and half hours of relentless, high-energy music making, as he says, “We have a president who says he wishes nothing but ill upon those that he disagrees with, and I don’t wanna live that way. That’s not the country I wanna live in. America, from the beginning…from the beginning, America was born out of disagreement, it was born in an argument, it was built on disagreement, we could argue about what course we thought we should take as a country, but we would still recognize our common humanity and our unity. So when you go home, take a hold of your loved ones, and tomorrow…tomorrow do as Renee (Goode) did, find a way to…to just take some aggressive peaceful action to defend our country’s ideals. Go get in some good trouble.”