“A long walk home” by Ruth Neuwald Falcon

The first time I saw Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band was in 1978 at the old Madison Square Garden. It’s a perfect squaring of the circle that what may be the last time was at the new (not so new anymore) Garden this past Saturday night. Every performance I’ve seen over the decades has been a rock and roll revival show—electrifying, life-enhancing, a reminder that shared joy in community is possible. Saturday’s may be the finest one I’ve attended, which is saying something when you consider that not only Bruce but the other members of the E Street Band—with the exception of Clarence Clemons’ nephew Jake—are in their seventies.

Bruce has always modeled a society of inclusivity. The original band members—Danny Federici, Garry Tallent, David Sancious, Vini “Mad Dog” Lopez, and Clarence Clemons—were white, Hispanic, Black. In the early days, they rehearsed in the garage belonging to Sancious’ mother— on E Street.

When Vini Lopez left the group, he was replaced by Ernest Carter, who created the drum solo about which current drummer Max Weinberg has said: “Carter devised a jazz fusion part for ‘Born to Run‘ that I could never reproduce in concert, and eventually stopped attempting.” (This may only interest fellow Bruce fans.)

Now, the musicians who play with Bruce include a horn section, more drums, and backup singers, in addition to the current E Street Band members, and for this tour, Tom Morello. The line-up on the stage for their bows was a model of the culture we not only want to live in, but truly are, no matter the attempts of the white supremacists in charge to eradicate that reality. And when the musicians filed off the stage, Bruce stood and connected with each one, a receiving line of appreciation, recognition, and affectionate respect, ending with a bear hug with Jake. The man is a mensch.

Bruce has always written political songs: the frequently misunderstood Born in the USA, The Ghost of Tom Joad, Youngstown, American Skin (41 Shots) (for an incisive and affecting exploration of the evening with a special focus on this powerful song, I highly recommend Glenn Kirschner’s “You can get killed just for living in . . . your American skin”) and, of course, the most recent, Streets of Minneapolis. All were part of Saturday’s set list.

Also included were songs that over the decades have been experienced as passionate anthems of personal survival. On the Land of Hope and Dreams Tour, they are transformed into political and communal assertions of resistance. “Cause we made a promise we swore we’d always remember, No retreat, baby, no surrender” takes on a new meaning in 2026, as does the repetition of “Come on, rise up!” in My City of Ruins. He introduces A Long Walk Home by saying, “This is a prayer for our country,” and when, on Saturday, he sang: “Your flag flying over the courthouse means certain things are set in stone—Who we are, what we’ll do and what we won’t,” the 22,000 people (give or take) who filled the Garden roared its affirmation.

Near the end of the show, Bruce sat on the edge of the stage and thanked New York City “for a lifetime.” Then he went on:

“We will make it through this. Because with the love and the fight and the spirit and the faith and the hope in your heart, America renews itself. I think the hardest part for me is feeling that distance between you and your neighbors, you and your fellow citizens. That distance can darken your soul. Now we have a president who says he wishes nothing but ill upon those who he disagrees with. That’s not the country this is. From the beginning, America was born out of disagreement. It’s an argument. It’s supposed to be an ongoing, blessed, sacred argument, about what course the country should take to form that more perfect union…

“The most heartbreaking example of this was Renee Good’s last words. She rolled down her window, and she looked at the man who only minutes later would kill her, would take her life, and she said to him, “I’m not mad at you.” I’m not mad at you. … Do as Renee did, find a way to take aggressive, peaceful action to defend our country’s ideals… If you feel helpless, hopeless, angry, frustrated, betrayed—I understand. That’s why we’re here tonight. We needed to see and feel your strength and your hope, and we needed to bring you some hope and some faith and some strength. I hope we did that tonight. God bless Alex Pretti. God bless Renee Good. God bless you. And God bless America.”

And God bless and thank you, Bruce Springsteen. For a lifetime.