To his fans, he was never just Bruce Springsteen. He was 'The Boss.'
Likewise, his sidekick was never just Clarence Clemons. He was 'The Big Man.'
E Street Nation is a lot smaller today, because The Big Man is gone. And just like that, The E Street Band will never sound - or feel - the same.
Clarence Clemons died over the weekend of complications from a major stroke he suffered a week ago.
His wailing tenor sax was the signature sound of Springsteen and his mates. It was what made them unique. And it's the sound I fell in love with a lifetime ago. The sound was summer, it was growing up in a small town, it was cruising around town in your car on a Saturday night. It was my life put to music. Or so it seemed. And at the core of it was Clemons' saxophone.
As a die-hard Sprinsteen-file, it's hard to describe how essential Clemons was to the E Street Band.
There are some sounds that are simply unique to rock: Carlos' Santana's guitar; Ian Anderson's flute; Yes' synthesizers.
And Clarence's sax.
I guess Springsteen could try to have someone else fill the sax role, but that person would never fill the gaping hole created by Clemon's absence. Sure, they carried on after the death of keyboard players Danny Federici. But Clarence's role in the band - as well as his role with Springsteen on stage and off - was unique.
They were something of an odd couple, the scrawny white rock guitar player and the massive black sax player.
The combination created a sound unique to rock music, one I've loved since I discovered the band's first album, 'Greetings from Asbury Park,' while I was still in high school.
In a way, it's just another reminder that we're all getting older.
Hopefully, what Springsteen wrote is true:
Well now, everything that dies, baby that's a fact.
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back.
Until that day, thanks for the music, Clarence.
Likewise, his sidekick was never just Clarence Clemons. He was 'The Big Man.'
E Street Nation is a lot smaller today, because The Big Man is gone. And just like that, The E Street Band will never sound - or feel - the same.
Clarence Clemons died over the weekend of complications from a major stroke he suffered a week ago.
His wailing tenor sax was the signature sound of Springsteen and his mates. It was what made them unique. And it's the sound I fell in love with a lifetime ago. The sound was summer, it was growing up in a small town, it was cruising around town in your car on a Saturday night. It was my life put to music. Or so it seemed. And at the core of it was Clemons' saxophone.
As a die-hard Sprinsteen-file, it's hard to describe how essential Clemons was to the E Street Band.
There are some sounds that are simply unique to rock: Carlos' Santana's guitar; Ian Anderson's flute; Yes' synthesizers.
And Clarence's sax.
I guess Springsteen could try to have someone else fill the sax role, but that person would never fill the gaping hole created by Clemon's absence. Sure, they carried on after the death of keyboard players Danny Federici. But Clarence's role in the band - as well as his role with Springsteen on stage and off - was unique.
They were something of an odd couple, the scrawny white rock guitar player and the massive black sax player.
The combination created a sound unique to rock music, one I've loved since I discovered the band's first album, 'Greetings from Asbury Park,' while I was still in high school.
In a way, it's just another reminder that we're all getting older.
Hopefully, what Springsteen wrote is true:
Well now, everything that dies, baby that's a fact.
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back.
Until that day, thanks for the music, Clarence.
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