Teardrops on the city

One of the my favorite moments at any Springsteen/E Street show always occurred within 5 minutes of the beginning. The first song was often an anthem that allowed The Big Man to step into the spotlight for a brief solo: "Badlands," "Prove it all Night," even "Born to Run."

When that light hit Clarence Clemons, the crowd erupted and became one. It signaled the start of something very special, a communal affair where anywhere from 2,000 to 80,000 became a family and took a roller coaster ride of emotion and rock and roll salvation. Clarence Clemons and his monumental saxophone were an integral part of the greatest show in rock and roll history, and something that won't likely be seen again.

"Spotlight on the Big Man. Don't he look great? He's lost a lot of weight"
---Springsteen ad libbing the lyrics to Arthur Conley's "Sweet Soul Music," circa 1988

The last few years were not kind to Clarence Clemons physically. Struggling to move on stage, he would often only rise to play his solos, dance very slightly and then sit down.

And although that was still more than adequate, there were so many nights, so many memories:

The brilliant opening of "None but the Brave"

Playing the maracas over a bent-over-backwards Springsteen during the balls-out finale of "She's the One"

Playing the triangle (the triangle!) during the long spectacular intro of "Prove it all Night"

His powerful "there's a beautiful river" singing on the reunion tour version of "If I Should Fall Behind"

"Reviving" Springsteen, a la James Brown, during the "I'm just a prisoner of rock and roll" schtick

Chasing Springsteen around the stage with his saxophone during the uproarious "Rosalita"

Seeing him with the Red Bank Rockers in Wilkes-Barre, PA around 1982; as the lights went down he headed for the stage about 2-3 feet from us. My friend Bill McCoach started yelling: "Hey Big Man!" No response. "King of the World!" No response. "Master of the Universe!" No response. "Lean, mean sex machine!" With that Clarence stopped, looked at Bill, and said, "Right on."

"You better be good for goodness sake"

Countless nights of rock and soul perfection

The majesty that is "Jungleland"

Springsteen used to introduce Clemons with "you want to be like him but you can't."

How true. No one can, or could.

The E Street Band thrived on fellowship and camaraderie. Theirs was the sound of love, joy, of driving down a dusty beach road on that endless American night. Listening for the perfect rock and roll song on an AM radio.

And enjoying the hell out of the ride.

That ride is over, and Clarence Clemons' journey to The Promised Land likely means a stillness to the greatest rock and roll band many of us could ever hope to hear.