I appreciate that, to a lot on here, the name will mean little. But to those of us who have followed The Boss for the last 40 years his departure will be a massive loss.
Some of his sweat fell on me at the series of (3?) gigs they did at Wembley the week(?) before Live Aid. Definately remember it included July 4th Gooner. As you say he could blow a tune! Loved his solo albums and his personality. Sad loss
Saw him twice, once in 2002 and once three years ago. On each occasion it was obvious that he wasn't the healthiest, but he still had a stage presence that few, save Springsteen himself, could match. Will be missed.
This is a slightly revised version of the eulogy (Bruce Springsteen) delivered for Clarence at his memorial. I'd like to thank all our fans and friends who have comforted us over the past difficult weeks.
FOR THE BIG MAN
I've been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there. It's a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes. As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I'm pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him. I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.
Those of us who shared Clarence's life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though "C" mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride. Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C's qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness. But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach. "C" lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess. This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend. Clarence's unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions. Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress. "C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went A... B.... C.... D. It was always A... J.... C.... Z... Q... I....! That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world. I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.
It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons. Tina, I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him. Victoria, you've been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of "C's" vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates. My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world. I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence's heart, in the Temple of Soul.
So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we'd pull up to the evening's lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world of his own. Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic, night after night. Clarence's ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible. By 69, he'd had a good run, because he'd already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man. Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C's suitcase. As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves. "C" always knew how to live. Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man's world. I'd wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures. Being allowed admittance to the Temple's wonders was a lovely thing.
As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man... no surprise. To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook. He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard. And... to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black. In Sammy's eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure. So... Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence's suits and his royal robes. He declined a seat in dad's van and opted for "C's" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show. He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn't do, and he'd saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul.
Of course, also enchanted was Sam's dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend. Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet. You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do. You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you. Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety, and in some funny way we became each other's protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C" from a world where it still wasn't so easy to be big and black. Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it. Clarence's celebrity and size did not make him immune. I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn't always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either. But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I'd written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that... that's what I'm gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together... the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that's just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it... it's the New World.
Clarence doesn't leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.
So, I'll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace. But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell... and that he gave to you... is gonna carry on. I'm no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god's work... work that's still unfinished. So I won't say goodbye to my brother, I'll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done.
Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story. Thanks for the miracle... and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul.
SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN... ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST. LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE'S DEAD... YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN'T! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU'VE EVER SEEN!... GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E. WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! ... amen.
I'm gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour. As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we'd shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of something big."
I was at Hyde Park tonight to watch The Boss where Clarence's nephew, Jake, played the Sax. Might just as well have been Clarence himself such was his playing.
Comments
Yeh! that was a kick in the teeth to wake up to on Fathers day.
Been watching the Hammersmith 1975 gig. Loved the bloke.
R.I.P.
Spoke about him the other day. Saw the boss at the old Wembley.The set was used for Live Aid a few weeks later. Boy could that man blow a tune.
RIP
Loved his solo albums and his personality.
Sad loss
RIP to the big man.
Jungleland the last track the "Born to Run" album features one of the best sax solos from him:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VH_NvYPBDY0&feature=related
Just put up a photo of him at work, despite my daughter accusing me of being "weird".
One of the great musicians of my youth, last saw him and Bruce at the Los Angeles Coliseum 2 years ago.
RIP
This is a slightly revised
version of the eulogy (Bruce Springsteen) delivered for Clarence at his memorial. I'd like to
thank all our fans and friends who have comforted us over the past difficult
weeks.
FOR THE BIG MAN
I've been sitting here listening
to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right
there. It's a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes.
As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and
I'm pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him. I leaned on Clarence a
lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.
Those of us who shared Clarence's
life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though "C" mellowed with age,
he was always a wild and unpredictable ride. Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck,
Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of
C's qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his
gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness. But,
as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach. "C" lived a life where
he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall
where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of
making quite an amazing mess. This was just the nature of your daddy and my
beautiful friend. Clarence's unconditional love, which was very real, came with
a lot of conditions. Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress.
"C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line.
He never went A... B.... C.... D. It was always A... J.... C.... Z... Q...
I....! That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world. I
know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried
a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.
It took a village to take care of
Clarence Clemons. Tina, I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for taking care of my
friend, for loving him. Victoria, you've been a loving, kind and caring wife to
Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was
not always easy. To all of "C's" vast support network, names too numerous to
mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the
pearly gates. My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that
were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world. I
was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence's
heart, in the Temple of Soul.
So a little bit of history: from
the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we'd pull up to the
evening's lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world
of his own. Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the
scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day
would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman
would reign and work his magic, night after night. Clarence's ability to enjoy
Clarence was incredible. By 69, he'd had a good run, because he'd already lived
about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man. Every night, in every
place, the magic came flying out of C's suitcase. As soon as success allowed,
his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a
visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil
reserves. "C" always knew how to live. Long before Prince was out of his
diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man's world. I'd wander in
from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic
lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this
was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets,
and its pleasures. Being allowed admittance to the Temple's wonders was a lovely
thing.
As a young child my son Sam
became enchanted with the Big Man... no surprise. To a child Clarence was a
towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook. He was a
dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with
kindness and regard. And... to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was
deeply and mysteriously black. In Sammy's eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of
the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one
welcoming and loving figure. So... Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and
became fascinated by Clarence's suits and his royal robes. He declined a seat in
dad's van and opted for "C's" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow
cruise to the show. He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just
wouldn't do, and he'd saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of
Soul.
Of course, also enchanted was
Sam's dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a
half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my
brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend.
Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the
planet. You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what
might happen, with what together, you might be able to do. You felt like no
matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you.
Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety, and in some
funny way we became each other's protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C"
from a world where it still wasn't so easy to be big and black. Racism was ever
present and over the years together, we saw it. Clarence's celebrity and size
did not make him immune. I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it
wasn't always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either. But,
standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the
baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous,
we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death
itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up.
Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship
that transcended those I'd written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried
it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only
busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping
it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And
that... that's what I'm gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down
on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the
thing that we did together... the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me
feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too
fucking big to die. And that's just the facts. You can put it on his grave
stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it... it's the New World.
Clarence doesn't leave the E
Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.
So, I'll miss my friend, his sax,
the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his
accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his
confusion, his power, his peace. But his love and his story, the story that he
gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell... and that he
gave to you... is gonna carry on. I'm no mystic, but the undertow, the
mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have
stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in
other fields, doing our modest version of god's work... work that's still
unfinished. So I won't say goodbye to my brother, I'll simply say, see you in
the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that
work, and get it done.
Big Man, thank you for your
kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story. Thanks for the
miracle... and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the
Temple of Soul.
SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN... ALWAYS
LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST. LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA,
the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE
WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH
HE'S DEAD... YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN'T! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
THE BIGGEST MAN YOU'VE EVER SEEN!... GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E. WHAT'S THAT
SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! ...
amen.
I'm gonna leave you today with a
quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from
Buffalo, the last show of the last tour. As we celebrated in the front cabin
congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking
nights and good times we'd shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he
raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of
something big."
Love you, "C".
Fantastic concert 'til this happened:
http://vh1.com/music/tuner/2012-07-14/bruce-springsteen-and-paul-mccartney-get-shut-down-for-playing-after-curfew-at-hard-rock-calling/