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Bruce Springsteen – “Born to Run” Part 1

Bruce Springsteen – Born to Run – Part 1

 

I just finished reading this fabulous book & it reminded me of how my life and Bruce Springsteen’s life crossed paths, where his went in one direction and mine the other.   Like Springsteen, I grew up in New Jersey.  Like Springsteen, my entire life has been devoted to guitar & music.  I was in a myriad of bands as he was & could see the vehicle of being in a rock band would be the way I would make my mark on the universe… like Bruce.  In 1975 I had come home back to New Jersey after graduating from the University of Arizona.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, though I had the degree.  No matter what was put in front of me, the hippy in me didn’t want to do the “normal thing”, like get a “job”.  This was not received very well by my parents… In looking back, it’s actually understanding… as they paid for my college. Meanwhile, I was really feeling the power a guitar in my hands had been giving me.  I loved playing to smoky rooms where people raised their beers to be part of the Dream.   (Mind you, I’ve never smoked cigarettes… though my clothes, smelling like sweat and grime, were like a badge of honor.) Not soon after I got back to New Jersey, my Mom started coughing, went to get it checked and found out she had inoperable cancer, with six months to live. (Unfortunately, she didn’t make it that long.)  I escaped into Music, as I always did, yet this time I didn’t want to face the inevitable.  I played with some bands in the Village, being in the same scene as the Talking Heads, Blondie, and the Ramones.

 

The future of my family…my parents and my brother… and life… was unsure…though my future… with a guitar in my hands… felt infinite.

In October, 1975, my good friend Paul Bilsky got us tickets to see Bruce Springsteen & the E-Street Band at a theatre in Red Bank, New Jersey.  Bilsky had somehow gotten involved with a group of friends coming out of college and started his own concert promoting business called Banzini Brothers Productions.  I gather Bilsky was able to get these tickets because of his new profession.   I’d been feeling like I was living in the Twilight Zone, so it didn’t hurt that I could get out and experience some music. My buddy, Matt Radin, had a band in Tucson that played songs from “The Wild, the Innocent, and the E-Street Shuffle” and I didn’t get it.  Too many changes…too many words.  (My heroes included Mountain and Leslie West… fantastic and completely different.)  So, I dragged my zombie ass down to the heartland not expecting much – unsure as to what Paul knew…he was not musical, like me, just saw a business opportunity.  The concert was astounding from the moment the band hit the stage.  I was totally transformed by Bruce… his amazing band… & I was proud to be from New Jersey! (Footnote… Though lots of famous folks have come from the Garden State, it wasn’t considered cool to be from there… until Bruce.  When he mentions “New Jersey” at any concert, many cheer.  My feeling is that some in attendance are from New Jersey, and some wish they were.  In any case, Bruce is the Real Deal).

My First Hero

Eddy Lieberman …My Journey to Rockin Jazz…My First Hero

I always ask my students who their heroes are, and if they don’t have any, go find them.   I was in awe of rock stars, and the world they walked in was an unattainable one.

The greatest instrumental band of all time was the Ventures, and they had a huge hit with the song “Walk, Don’t Run”.  They released an album entitled “Play Guitar with the Ventures” where the guitar parts were removed so you could perform the song with the group.  This gave me an idea of how it would be to be part of a band.  There’s only so much time one needs playing to adoring fans in front of the mirror in the bathroom or taking a great solo at the edge of your bed.

The coolest guy in the school was John Enright, and he was a drummer.  Actually, he was the first rock star we all got to know in person.  He dressed like a Beatle like they looked during “Rubber Soul”, & he had bona fide Beatle boots to add to his persona.  He twirled his drum sticks like Eddie Brigatti in the Rascals, and seemingly everyone was in awe of his presence.

Somehow, I found myself playing in my first band with him and John Miksza.  I don’t think anyone played bass either.  It was two guitars and a drummer.

Before DJs, only live band played dances.  I had my Kent guitar and amp, my first foray into the electric world.  As part of the act, my amp picked up police radio, & we would use that as a special effect.  We practiced a lot & had live performances only a handful of times.  Regardless, I felt like I was on my way to the Promised Land.

One night I got a call from another friend who delivered newspapers.  Remember, that was the only way anyone received daily news.  He knew I was friends with John, & we were in a band together.  He told me the paper said John had been killed in a car accident that night.  I was obviously stunned.  He had tried crossing Route 46 to go see his girlfriend.  Virtually no one had a girlfriend at that point, and he lost his life attempting to maneuver a heavily traveled road in the dark.  A rebel to the bitter end.

At the funeral, his open casket had him lying there with his arms crossed holding two drumsticks.  All these years later, all of us who went through that experience still speak of him with reverence.  As an aspiring musician looking for the Answer, I immediately felt lost.  I had lost my hero.

Eddy Lieberman…My Journey to Rockin Jazz

A lifetime. Music and me. Fan. Educator. Recording Artist. Performer. How’d I get here? Why am I still living the Dream? Well, enjoy the ride with me as I’ll get you to why Take Your Time is both the culmination and the beginning.
My Dad Louis was a music lover. He worked as a commercial artist out of our home…the Sears logo, Whitman’s Sampler Box, toy packaging, including design…in other words, he seemed to have his hand in a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. Lover of science fiction and Westerns, the guy was eclectic, and so was his taste in music.
The garage had been converted into my Dad’s office, which I had to pass it by on the way upstairs or downstairs every day. We’d often talk music. Stravinsky and Debussy, Miles and Trane, The Animals & The Kinks…his passion ignited my own. One night Dad called me to the den (do people still have dens?), which had been the porch to watch a band called the Blues Project. He felt this was a band that would bridge the gap between the blues and the experimental music of the day. We both had debated about the merits of the British Invasion and Motown, with his wisdom often trumping my exuberance, yet we seemed to come together with the Blues Project…

Sometime during this period of time I felt that playing the guitar would be a good idea. Was it the one of those British bands that turned my head around? There were so many, yet seeing countless young acts Sunday nights on the Ed Sullivan Show making this incredible, feel it down to my toes sound was almost too much to handle. For a young, awkward teen, witnessing screaming, crying girls just because there were guys in a band had to have been the clincher. The natural progression was to get a guitar and take lessons.
Mrs Axelrod was my first guitar teacher. She was a short, stout woman who lived in Fair Lawn, New Jersey, spoke broken English, and always gave me a warm welcome when we arrived at her home. The apron would come off, I’d get fresh chocolate chip cookies, and then we’d get down to business. When I say “we”, Lou & I took lessons together. He committed to the guitar for three months, while my commitment and passion lasted a lifetime.

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