I've spent much of the weekend listening to classic Springsteen in honor of Danny's life that was. And now, in your honor Darren, I have some tracks from "Smoke & Mirrors" cranked to ten. Now that I've reflected on my loved ones who lost their battles to cancer, I'm celebrating my friends who fought it and survived. "All in your Mind" is on at this very moment - a fitting anthem to your spirit and strength and recovery and long life that will definitely be. I wish you smooth sailing in May. Keep us posted. And thanks for all the essays and great music over the years.
Rob Lowson
· 1 year ago
When I heard the news that E Street Band keyboardist Danny Federici had died at age 58, it took quite a few minutes for the reality to sink in. When it did, there was only one thing to do: Call the biggest Springsteen fan that I know, my old pal and former colleague Nancy Pate. Nancy and I were like family, which is the same context in which I have always viewed the E Street Band. Even more than the music, the band represents the noble idea of sticking together, through thick and thin, forever. That's a pretty lofty notion to take in, especially if you've run into a bad relationship, bad marriage, single-parenthood, health issues or any of the myriad struggles that make life so challenging. So, anyway, Nancy picked up the phone and we started reminiscing about the band's history and then our own. She and I have been to a few Springsteen shows together and through more than a few adventures at work. Without her presence, I never would've had a chance to do what I love. After the shock wore off, she got feisty: "This pisses me off," she is telling me, "because these guys are the good guys. Hey, tramps like us..." The E Street Band didn't do drugs, didn't carouse irresponsibly. They don't fit into the new tabloid mentality. Federici's three-year battle with melanoma had been kept so low-key that attentive fans such as Nancy and I weren't aware of it. He had joined the band in 1969, according to the biographical information in the forward to a new Springsteen volume, For You: Original Stories and Photographs by Bruce Springsteen's Legendary Fans. Federici played with the Boss in the seaside juke joints with Child and Steel Mill. "In Danny's case," the Chicago Tribune's Louis Carlozo writes. "greatness is understood, measured in the sublime flicker of his organ-playing hands." After 40 years in the band, Federici's hands are still, but I'm optimistic that, like all families, the E Street Band will find a way to persevere. It gives hope to the rest of us.
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When it did, there was only one thing to do: Call the biggest Springsteen fan that I know, my old pal and former colleague Nancy Pate. Nancy and I were like family, which is the same context in which I have always viewed the E Street Band.
Even more than the music, the band represents the noble idea of sticking together, through thick and thin, forever. That's a pretty lofty notion to take in, especially if you've run into a bad relationship, bad marriage, single-parenthood, health issues or any of the myriad struggles that make life so challenging.
So, anyway, Nancy picked up the phone and we started reminiscing about the band's history and then our own. She and I have been to a few Springsteen shows together and through more than a few adventures at work. Without her presence, I never would've had a chance to do what I love.
After the shock wore off, she got feisty:
"This pisses me off," she is telling me, "because these guys are the good guys. Hey, tramps like us..."
The E Street Band didn't do drugs, didn't carouse irresponsibly. They don't fit into the new tabloid mentality. Federici's three-year battle with melanoma had been kept so low-key that attentive fans such as Nancy and I weren't aware of it.
He had joined the band in 1969, according to the biographical information in the forward to a new Springsteen volume, For You: Original Stories and Photographs by Bruce Springsteen's Legendary Fans.
Federici played with the Boss in the seaside juke joints with Child and Steel Mill. "In Danny's case," the Chicago Tribune's Louis Carlozo writes. "greatness is understood, measured in the sublime flicker of his organ-playing hands."
After 40 years in the band, Federici's hands are still, but I'm optimistic that, like all families, the E Street Band will find a way to persevere. It gives hope to the rest of us.