Live Review: Bruce Springsteen & The E-Street Band

Already jubilant crowds have heeded the promoters warning and turned up early to the rural enclave of the Brisbane Entertainment Centre for the return of The Boss, an air of excited uncertainty pervading all and sundry given that this is the opening show of Bruce Springsteen's first Australian tour in a decade. The crowd is vibrant and diverse, the heady mix of blue collar music and not-so-layman ticket prices bringing a mixed bag of folk all steadfastly determined to bow down at the alter of Bruce. The mail was that the show was going to kick off at 7pm, but that hour passes with no sign of the band (no support is required tonight), but no one seems overly perturbed, most instead taking the opportunity to grab a couple of post-work, pre-gig drinks in the window suddenly provided. It's an odd set-up, a massive stage to cater for the equally massive band seeming to have an open plan structure to cater for the folk with seats behind the stage – rows and rows of people with a perfect view of The Boss' denim-clad ass for the duration – and a GA section at the front giving way to floor seats about halfway back in the cavernous room.

At 8pm the lights dim, the capacity crowd goes crazy and the Aussie leg of The Wrecking Ball tour finally kicks off, and Rage Against The Machine's Tom Morello – filling in for the absent Steve Van Zandt for the first time as a full-time collaborator, although he's recorded and sat in with the band many times – gets the first notes in anger, kicking off We Take Care of Our Own from the tour's titular album. Bruce shows his belief in equal opportunity by playing to the folk behind him early and he's clearly not phoning it in, giving it his all from the outset, his gruff voice so authoritative and somehow soothing. The crowd responds with brays of “Brooooce” which would sound eerily like scorn if you didn't know better, and then man announces, “We've got something special for you Brisbane!” before sparking a reverent version of The Saints' Just Like Fire Would, the masses reacting in fervour even though it's debatable how many of them realised the local nature of the awesome gesture they were clapping along to.  Springsteen is clad in a shirt, vest, tie, jeans combo – hedging his bets – while the massive E Street Band (it's hard to tell if there's 17 or 18 at any one time because they rarely all stand still at once, except for Roy Bittan at his piano and Charles Giordano behind his organ) are all clad entirely in black, almost like a rock'n'roll uniform. They certainly behave as one multi-limbed and –headed beast, completely in sync throughout, especially the massive back row of vocalists and the E Street Horns, who come in en masse during Wrecking Ball after their leader had started the track off on his own, their input taking it to an entirely new level. There's so much conviction poured into these tales of class struggle and quests for equality, the classic Badlands eliciting a veritable sea of fist-pumping and allowing Jake Clemons – the nephew of the much missed Clarence “The Big Man” Clemons, the E Street Band's saxophonist and Bruce's confidant from the band's outset in the early-'70s until his passing in 2011 – his first taste in the spotlight filling his uncle's particularly big shoes, the confident performer handling the task with ease. Giordano comes down to the main part of stage clutching his accordion for Death To My Hometown, a jaunty folk number which builds into an authentic old-time romp, still class conscious but celebratory in nature.  Springsteen literally tosses his axe in a sweeping arc through the air to a waiting roadie before grabbing the mic and strutting around, letting the crowd bellow the opening verses to Hungry Heart before the band kicks in and it kicks off in earnest, still one of the catchiest weapons in his arsenal after all these years. The Boss proves that he's still a man of the people by walking through the crowd to a makeshift stage between the standing punters and the sitting patrons, everyone in range reaching out to lay their hands on the great man, who doesn't seem to mind one iota. He leans down and kisses one girl – living out every 63-year-old's dream – before flagrantly ignoring all the massive 'Do Not Crowd Surf' signs liberally dotting the venue by diving backwards into the arms of the throng and riding them all the way back to the stage (that's why he's called The Boss), grunting the odd exhortation and willing them to push him in the right direction, tucking his shirt in as he finally stands up and runs off to dance with Clemons.

There's a poignant spoken word intro to My City Of Ruins touching on loss, acceptance and spectre of the hurricanes which recently ravaged New Jersey, a communal shout out “from my ghosts to your ghosts”. The female singers give the song a gospel feel, The Boss taking time out to introduce the entire band mid-song, a silence for the departed being respected by most until Bruce raises his arms, his acolytes go beserk and the band kicks back in powerfully, the gulf between the quiet and the loud absolutely ferocious in intensity. The production is incredible without being garish, Springsteen slumping down against the mic stand in resignation as he moves onto Spirit In The Night – the night's oldest track, from his 1973 debut Greetings from Asbury Park, NJ – then crawling onto the mini-catwalk jutting into the audience and immersing himself in the front rows, ending up back on the riser being serenaded by Clemons' sax and then prone onstage with his head literally back in the crowd, one lucky lady getting to warble a line into directly into the microphone.

Springsteen still possesses such a youthful vitality and it seems like everyman persona will never diffuse, conducting the horns for the into to a pumping take on The E Street Shuffle and then guitar posturing in the spotlight as the song spirals into a full band cacophony, drummer Max Weinberg and another percussionist indulging in a drum battle before the E Street Band form a ten-person line at the front of stage, provide an awesomely united front. Piano ballad Jack Of All Trades brings some respite, before the move onto relative rarity Murder Incorporated – which has a modern sheen despite being an offcut from the Born In The USA sessions – allows The Boss to indulge in some guitar histrionics, Morello at one point soloing by slamming the amp jack into his palm repeatedly before the two battle it out in a good ol' fashion guitar duel. This segues into a rollicking honky-tonk version of Johnny 99, the song sounding great as a boogie and finally giving Bittan a chance to shine before the horn players march down onto the main stage one-by-one to really bring home the party. It's hard to remember a song ever undertaking so big a transformation – there's even a cowbell break – and the whole thing has the air of a Blues Brothers rock'n'soul revue. They power through a brilliant take on Because The Night which makes you wonder why he ever gave it away to Patti Smith – not that that's a bad thing he did – and guitarist Nils Lofgren gets his chance to showboat a bit, although he's so classy that even his pony stomps seem elegant. Springsteen slings his guitar behind his back in his trademark pose as he adds harmonica to She's The One, before a tribal lead in to Shackled And Drawn builds into a huge gospel climax and ends with a massive E Street Band line dance, complete with zany choreography.

There's a false start to Waitin' On A Sunny Day – there's a couple of little fluffs and feedback squalls throughout the massive set but nothing serious enough to ruffle any feathers – before The Boss ones again ditches his guitar and gets amongst his fans, jesting “you're scaring me!” at one point as he's mobbed by over-enthusiastic disciples. He cajoles the whole crowd to sing along before careening back to the main stage, dragging one impossibly young girl with braces and a Stars & Stripes tank top onto stage to sing a verse – so cute but so planted – before gallantly lifting her back into the throng.  They offer a gorgeous a capella beginning to what's become known as the Apollo Medley – dedicated to a bevy of soul singers including James Brown and Sam & Dave – which is a big moment in the show for Clemons both vocally and on sax, Springsteen seeming to have wanderlust as he's drawn back into the crowd once more, seeking that intimate connection. A fist-pumping The Rising makes you realise that the man is fucking indefatigable, before an inspiring The Ghost Of Tom Joad finds Bruce and Tom trading verses and bouncing guitar lines off one another; Morello has clearly bought into the whole affair – this is no vacation – and the massive solo he's afforded shows that he's very welcome in the fold, even if he does bring a slightly different tinge to proceedings.  Springsteen is silhouetted in the spotlight as Thunder Road is introduced, letting the crowd take an early verse before the horns take over, the song finishing with Bruce standing with guitar aloft in one hand as the band offer a massive triumphant jump before taking a group bow and disappearing offstage into the darkness.

There's only the briefest of intermissions before it's game on once more, Springsteen sagely proffering, “this is a song about how the dead speak for the living” before entering We Are Alive, the tempo soon dropping to a section so quiet you could hear a pin drop and then suddenly bursting into a New Orleans chorus line. This revelry is soon dwarfed by the unmistakable opening bars of Born To Run, the place somehow lifting a notch in intensity onstage and off, the impossibly timeless tune sounding amazing in these raucous environs.

Springsteen seriously looks like he'd rather be nowhere else than here in Brisbane at this very moment in time – seemingly loving every second – as he whips the crowd into a frenzy, before Glory Days gets the entire place finally on their feet and in turn runs seamlessly into the evergreen Dancing In The Dark. As has always been his luck for nearly three decades Bruce finds a young girl in a Born In The USA shirt to pull from the front row to dance – it's not Courtney Cox this time – and then he swings his axe repeatedly around his neck like a hula hoop and catches it, hollering “One more for Brisbane!” before mounting Bittan's white baby grand piano as the ensemble power into Tenth Avenue Freeze Out. It's one of the greatest party jams of all time and The Boss is soon back in the crowd among his faithful, a final moving homage to The Big Man and the equally missed organist Danny Federici who passed in 2008 running on the big screens as the crowd follows Bruce around the floor like a gargantuan rolling maul, building to one last brilliant climax as he gets back onstage and brings proceedings to a glorious full-band conclusion. It's been well over three hours by now and Springsteen pats all of his team on the back as they file past him one by one towards the backstage area, turning one last time to cavort with the crowd before he too is gone. It's over.

Even with the lingering uncertainty about how long it might take him to return to this realm, it's just so reassuring knowing that The Boss is out there both entertaining and looking out for us – tonight proves once more that he's truly one of a kind.