At around 8:30 Saturday night, I read a news alert that Clarence "The Big Man" Clemons, saxophone player for the E Street Band, died of complications of a stroke he suffered last Sunday.
The loss and sadness is profound. He was a larger-than-life figure for those of us in E Street Nation. Bruce would introduce him during concerts as "The King of the World! Master of the Universe! The Minister of Soul! The Biggest Man You have Ever Seen! You want to be like him but you can't!"
Susan and I saw him play with Bruce around 35 times, and briefly met him once in Sweden. Here's a photo outside our Stockholm hotel after a show in 2007:
He had a lot of problems with his back and hips from years of playing a vigorous, physical show live on stage, and from his younger years as a football player. He described the pain from the last tour in 2009 as "pure hell". That night in Stockholm he fell down onstage and Bruce had to help him back up to his feet. "Big Man Walking!", Bruce exclaimed. Even though he must have been hurting, he looks so happy in this picture holding court with his fans. He had a son who lived in Stockholm, who played guitar on stage with the band that night. At this moment he was telling the fans how Sweden was like a second home to him.
This picture was at a restaurant in Calgary the night before a 2003 show. We had met Susan's brother Tom and his fiancee (now wife) Lisa there for the concert, and were thrilled to see that the band had picked the same steakhouse for dinner. We didn't want to be intrusive fans, but we did ask the waiter to snap this picture from a perspective to get Clarence in the background. You can see that he obviously knew what was going on and thought it was funny:
At the end of November 2009, I went to Buffalo, NY to see the last concert of what would turn out to be the last Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band tour with the Big Man blowing sax. It was the end of the worst year of my life, a 12-month period that included immeasurable failure and loss. I didn't have anyone to go with me, and nearly didn't go at all (tip: never go to Buffalo in late November!
), but I had a strong feeling that this might be the last chance to see this band I loved, to hear the music that had sustained me through those dark days.
The band was going to perform the entirety of Bruce's first album as part of the show for the first time ever, and it seemed to have the sense of a closure to this 35 year era of rock 'n roll greatness. Years ago, Bruce would tell long mythical stories of the band's early days during his song "Growin' Up". He had mostly given that up, but that night he told this great story of the first time he met Clarence Clemons. I've heard it told dozens of times in dozens of different ways over the years, but this was the best I've ever heard.
Here's the song in it's entirety from that night, story and all:
Growin Up
During the story, he and Clarence recreated the classic pose from the cover of Born to Run, voted last week one of Rolling Stone's top 10 best rock album covers of all time:
I love the symbolism of the pose: Bruce leaning on Clarence. Without The Big Man, there's no E Street Band, and nothing happens the way it did. He brought the racial integration (although I would say many nights he was the only black man in the arena) the urban grit, and the soul and feeling to the music, and in the live shows he provided a compadre for Bruce to play off of onstage.
Super Bowl Halftime, 2009- Bruce says it best: "This is the important part!" (and watch out, you're about to get Bosscrotched!)
Badlands from NYC 2000 (Sax solo at 2:45- my friend Yvonne is in the front row, and Susan and I are up in the rafters next to a drunk dude trying to barf up his toes):
This next one destroys me right now. "If I Should Fall Behind" began as a beautifully honest love song about the trials and missteps that all couples might encounter on their journey together through life. In 1999 it became something else- Bruce had reassembled the band after a ten-year hiatus, and the song was reworked for the reunion tour. Bruce shares the sung verses (which doesn't happen often) with the rest of the singers in the band. I've always thought of it like the rainbow in the Old Testament flood story- a promise that they will never break up again..."'til death do us part".
(Clarence's sax solo and sung verse begins at 02:45, but just listen to the whole thing)
My lasting memory of Clarence in concert is from a song that he didn't play sax on. We were at a show in Dallas in 2003, up in the pit near the stage on Clarence's side (stage right). Bruce was singing "You're Missing", a heartbreaking song about grief and loss. I looked at Clarence, and he had tears streaming down his cheeks. Keep in mind that they had been touring for months, and had probably played that song a hundred times by then. Who knows what was on his mind, but I think he's just someone who really feels it, you know? Some people just express emotion in a really raw, deep fashion. Tessa and I put on E Street radio last night, listened to Jungleland and just hugged and cried.
Jungleland 1980 (Big Man sax solo at 4:39):
Rest in the peace you've earned well, Big Man, and thank you for helping us feel something for all of these years.
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