Reconnected with a dear friend (won't say old, younger than me!) on Facebook the other day. Been a long time, too long, and I felt compelled to download some Springsteen, a favorite of this friend.
Another friend, who will remain nameless as to avoid embarassment when he googles himself, had never heard Jungleland, by Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
.
Another friend, who will remain nameless as to avoid embarassment when he googles himself, had never heard Jungleland, by Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
.
What?
Arguably one of the best rock songs ever written -- all 9 minutes and 33 seconds of it. Opens with violin, awesome lyrics, great guitar solo, and the absolute best sax solo by the Big Man himself; Clarence Clemons. So of course I had to remedy the situation, interrupt the homework, slap in the CD (my 8 track broke). Cranked it up and ripped the knob off. THere is only one way to rock ;-)
I wonder if younger people have a song writer who speaks to them as this song, and this artist did/does to me? I'm no longer young so I'll keep wondering, and perhaps hoping.
"Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge, drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain." Enjoy, and sing along if you'd like.
And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine over the Jersey state line
Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge
Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
The Rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance and disappear down Flamingo Lane
Well the Maximum Lawman run down Flamingo chasing the Rat and the barefoot girl
And the kids round here look just like shadows always quiet, holding hands
From the churches to the jails tonight all is silence in the world
As we take our stand down in Jungleland
The midnight gang's assembled and picked a rendezvous for the night
They'll meet 'neath that giant Exxon sign that brings this fair city light
Man there's an opera out on the Turnpike
There's a ballet being fought out in the alley
Until the local cops, Cherry Tops, rips this holy night
The street's alive as secret debts are paid
Contacts made, they vanished unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades hustling for the record machine
The hungry and the hunted explode into rock'n'roll bands
That face off against each other out in the street down in Jungleland
In the parking lot the visionaries dress in the latest rage
Inside the backstreet girls are dancing to the records that the D.J. plays
Lonely-hearted lovers struggle in dark corners
Desperate as the night moves on, just a look and a whisper, and they're gone
Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender in a bedroom locked
In whispers of soft refusal and then surrender in the tunnels uptown
The Rat's own dream guns him down as shots echo down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
Between flesh and what's fantasy and the poets down here
Don't write nothing at all, they just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand but they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland
Copyright © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP)
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