Farewell

Una settimana dopo l'ultimo post, mi sembra giusto e doveroso chiudere il saluto a Danny riportando quando detto da Bruce Springsteen al suo funerale, il 21 aprile scorso:

Let me start with the stories.

Back in the days of miracles, the frontier days when "Mad Dog" Lopez and his temper struck fear into the band, small club owners, innocent civilians and all women, children and small animals.

Back in the days when you could still sign your life away on the hood of a parked car in New York City.

Back shortly after a young red-headed accordionist struck gold on the Ted Mack Amateur Hour and he and his mama were sent to Switzerland to show them how it's really done.

Back before beach bums were featured on the cover of Time magazine.

I'm talking about back when the E Street Band was a communist organization! My pal, quiet, shy Dan Federici, was a one-man creator of some of the hairiest circumstances of our 40 year career... And that wasn't easy to do. He had "Mad Dog" Lopez to compete with.... Danny just outlasted him.

Maybe it was the "police riot" in Middletown, New Jersey. A show we were doing to raise bail money for "Mad Log" Lopez who was in jail in Richmond, Virginia, for having an altercation with police officers who we'd aggravated by playing too long. Danny allegedly knocked over our huge Marshall stacks on some of Middletown's finest who had rushed the stage because we broke the law by...playing too long.

As I stood there watching, several police oficers crawled out from underneath the speaker cabinets and rushed away to seek medical attention. Another nice young officer stood in front of me onstage waving his nightstick, poking and calling me nasty names. I looked over to see Danny with a beefy police officer pulling on one arm while Flo Federici, his first wife, pulled on the other, assisting her man in resisting arrest.

A kid leapt from the audience onto the stage, momentarily distracting the beefy officer with the insults of the day. Forever thereafter, "Phantom" Dan Federici slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

A warrant out for his arrest and one month on the lam later, he still hadn't been brought to justice. We hid him in various places but now we had a problem. We had a show coming at Monmouth College. We needed the money and we had to do the gig. We tried a replacement but it didn't work out. So Danny, to all of our admiration, stepped up and said he'd risk his freedom, take the chance and play.

Show night. 2,000 screaming fans in the Monmouth College gym. We had it worked out so Danny would not appear onstage until the moment we started playing. We figured the police who were there to arrest him wouldn't do so onstage during the show and risk starting another riot.

Let me set the scene for you. Danny is hiding, hunkered down in the backseat of a car in the parking lot. At five minutes to eight, our scheduled start time, I go out to whisk him in. I tap on the window.

"Danny, come on, it's time."

I hear back, "I'm not going."

Me: "What do you mean you're not going?"

Danny: "The cops are on the roof of the gym. I've seen them and they're going to nail me the minute I step out of this car."

As I open the door, I realize that Danny has been smoking a little something and had grown rather paranoid. I said, "Dan, there are no cops on the roof."

He says, "Yes, I saw them, I tell you. I'm not coming in."

So I used a procedure I'd call on often over the next forty years in dealing with my old pal's concerns. I threatened him...and cajoled. Finally, out he came. Across the parking lot and into the gym we swept for a rapturous concert during which we laughted like thieves at our excellent dodge of the local cops.

At the end of the evening, during the last song, I pulled the entire crowd up onto the stage and Danny slipped into the audience and out the front door. Once again, "Phantom" Dan had made his exit. (I still get the occasional card from the old Chief of Police of Middletown wishing us well. Our histories are forever intertwined.) And that, my friends, was only the beginning.

There was the time Danny quit the band during a rough period at Max's Kansas City, explaining to me that he was leaving to fix televisions. I asked him to think about that and come back later.

Or Danny, in the band rental car, bouncing off several parked cars after a night of entertainment, smashing out the windshield with his head but saved from severe injury by the huge hard cowboy hat he bought in Texas on our last Western swing.

Or Danny, leaving a large marijuana plant on the front seat of his car in a tow away zone. The car was promptly towed. He said, "Bruce, I'm going to go down and report that it was stolen." I said, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Down he went and straight into the slammer without passing go.

Or Danny, the only member of the E Street Band to be physically thrown out of the Stone Pony. Considering all the money we made them, that wasn't easy to do.

Or Danny receiving and surviving a "cautionary assault" from an enraged but restrained "Big Man" Clarence Clemons while they were living together and Danny finally drove the "Big Man" over the big top.

Or Danny assisting me in removing my foot from his stereo speaker after being the only band member ever to drive me into a violent rage.

And through it all, Danny played his beautiful, soulful B3 organ for me and our love grew. And continued to grow. Life is funny like that. He was my homeboy, and great, and for that you make considerations... And he was much more tolerant of my failures than I was of his.

When Danny wasn't causing chaos, he was a sweet, talented, unassuming, unpretentious good-hearted guy who simply had an unchecked ability to make good fortune and things in general go fabulously wrong.

But beyond all of that, he also had a mountain of the right stuff. He had the heart and soul of an engineer. He learned to fly. He was always up on the latest technology and would explain it to you patiently and in enormous detail. He was always "souping" something up, his car, his stereo, his B3. When Patti joined the band, he was the most welcoming, thoughtful, kindest friend to the first woman entering our "boys club."

He loved his kids, always bragging about Jason, Harley, and Madison, and he loved his wife Maya for the new things she brought into his life.

And then there was his artistry. He was the most intuitive player I've ever seen. His style was slippery and fluid, drawn to the spaces the other musicians in the E Street Band left. He wasn't an assertive player, he was a complementary player. A true accompanist. He naturally supplied the glue that bound the band's sound together. In doing so, he created for himself a very specific style. When you hear Dan Federici, you don't hear a blanket of sound, you hear a riff, packed with energy, flying above everything else for a few moments and then gone back in the track. "Phantom" Dan Federici. Now you hear him, now you don't.

Offstage, Danny couldn't recite a lyric or a chord progression for one of my songs. Onstage, his ears opened up. He listened, he felt, he played, finding the perfect hole and placement for a chord or a flurry of notes. This style created a tremendous feeling of spontaneity in our ensemble playing.

In the studio, if I wanted to loosen up the track we were recording, I'd put Danny on it and not tell him what to play. I'd just set him loose. He brought with him the sound of the carnival, the amusements, the boardwalk, the beach, the geography of our youth and the heart and soul of the birthplace of the E Street Band.

Then we grew up. Very slowly. We stood together through a lot of trials and tribulations. Danny's response to a mistake onstage, hard times, catastrophic events was usually a shrug and a smile. Sort of an "I am but one man in a raging sea, but I'm still afloat. And we're all still here."

I watched Danny fight and conquer some tough addictions. I watched him struggle to put his life together and in the last decade when the band reunited, thrive on sitting in his seat behind that big B3, filled with life and, yes, a new maturity, passion for his job, his family and his home in the brother and sisterhood of our band.

Finally, I watched him fight his cancer without complaint and with great courage and spirit. When I asked him how things looked, he just said, "what are you going to do? I'm looking forward to tomorrow." Danny, the sunny side up fatalist. He never gave up right to the end.

A few weeks back we ended up onstage in Indianapolis for what would be the last time. Before we went on I asked him what he wanted to play and he said, "Sandy." He wanted to strap on the accordion and revisit the boardwalk of our youth during the summer nights when we'd walk along the boards with all the time in the world.

So what if we just smashed into three parked cars, it's a beautiful night! So what if we're on the lam from the entire Middletown police department, let's go take a swim! He wanted to play once more the song that is of course about the end of something wonderful and the beginning of something unknown and new.

Let's go back to the days of miracles. Pete Townshend said, "a rock and roll band is a crazy thing. You meet some people when you're a kid and unlike any other occupation in the whole world, you're stuck with them your whole life no matter who they are or what crazy things they do."

If we didn't play together, the E Street Band at this point would probably not know one another. We wouldn't be in this room together. But we do... We do play together. And every night at 8 p.m., we walk out on stage together and that, my friends, is a place where miracles occur...old and new miracles. And those you are with, in the presence of miracles, you never forget. Life does not separate you. Death does not separate you. Those you are with who create miracles for you, like Danny did for me every night, you are honored to be amongst.

Of course we all grow up and we know "it's only rock and roll"...but it's not. After a lifetime of watching a man perform his miracle for you, night after night, it feels an awful lot like love.

So today, making another one of his mysterious exits, we say farewell to Danny, "Phantom" Dan, Federici. Father, husband, my brother, my friend, my mystery, my thorn, my rose, my keyboard player, my miracle man and lifelong member in good standing of the house rockin', pants droppin', earth shockin', hard rockin', booty shakin', love makin', heart breakin', soul cryin'... and, yes, death defyin' legendary E Street Band.

In più, sul sito ufficiale si trova il video tributo al musicista, un omaggio meraviglioso.

ciao Danny

Ieri sera si è spento Danny Federici, organo, tastiere e fisarmonica di Springsteen e della sua E Street Band. Dopo una lotta lunga più di tre anni contro il melanoma, e dopo aver fatto una comparsata il 20 marzo scorso a Indianapolis sul suo palco di sempre, Danny ieri non ce l'ha fatta.

L'ho visto dal vivo più volte, durante tutto il Rising Tour, lassù, sulla sinistra del palco.

L'ho sfiorato, a pochi centimetri, nel maggio 2003, mentre usciva dal suo hotel di Parigi per tuffarsi nella sua macchina nera.

L'ho visto durante Blood Brothers a New York, a fine Rising Tour, quando si diceva (già di nuovo) che sarebbe stato l'ultimo tour della E Street Band.

E poi non l'ho visto più. Non nel tour di Devils&Dust, non in quello delle Seeger Sessions, non in questo di Magic.

Aspettavo di rivederlo a San Siro tra un paio di mesi, ma purtroppo non sarà così.

E adesso, ogni volta che su qualche bootleg sentirò Bruce dire qualcosa tipo "now you see him now you don't, brother Danny Federici", mi scapperà un sorriso amaro in più, e mi sentirò un po' più vecchio.

ciao Danny, grazie di tutto.

Day After

Ormai i dati sono definitivi, il trionfo netto.

Senato: 47,3% contro 38,0%.
Camera: 46,8% contro 37,6%.

Una vittoria totale e abbondante per il Popolo della Libertà, una Caporetto devastante per i sinistri.

Al di là delle partigianerie, penso che il dato più interessante sia quello che riguarda tutti i partitini, di cui da tempo si poteva fare a meno. E fu così che, con questa tanto vituperata legge elettorale, i vari Bertinotti, Santanchè e compagnia bella, e con loro Luxuria, Caruso, Pecoraro Scanio e tutta la mandria e la bassa manovalanza di una politica italiana inutile e dispersiva se ne andarono. Fuori dalla Camera, fuori dal Senato, fuori e basta.

Tra cinque anni, c'è da scommetterci, si ricicleranno, vendendosi al miglior offerente. Ma per il momento, in Parlamento ci sono solo le due coalizioni maggiori e l'Udc di Casini.

E questo mi sembra già un bel passo avanti.

Pillole pre-elettorali

Finalmente ci siamo.

La (triste e sottotono) campagna elettorale è finita, oggi il rombo disturbante dei televisori ci parla d'altro, e domani, nel buio della gabina, brillantemente illuminato dalla luce dei nostri fidi telefonini, ognuno farà la sua scelta. Rispettando i dettami, evito di fare nomi o cognomi, spero solo che ci si faccia un bell'esamino di coscienza e che si metta davvero la croce per un voto utile.

Detto questo, chiuso il capitolo elezioni, passiamo a brevi flash.

Sto leggendo di gusto Duma Key, ultima fatica dal grande Stephen King. Mi mancano meno di 200 pagine alla fine, e come spesso accade i romanzi di King hanno il pregio di portare al climax finale con un'efficacia fuori dal comune. Devo dire che, dopo una breve battuta d'arresto con Black House, datato ormai 2001, gli ultimi sforzi narrativi di colui che un tempo veniva denominato il "re dell'horror" dai giornalisti e critici meno attenti, sono stati degni di nota. Ciò non può che essere un bene, e fa sperare in opere future di tutto rispetto.

Qualche sera fa, tra gli scampoli di Champions League, ho visto Juno. Dopo tanta fatica persa dietro ai glorificatissimi (e sopravvalutati, a mio parere) film degli ultimi mesi, finalmente un gran bel film. Fresco, frizzante, originale, ben fatto. Il doppiaggio probabilmente ha smussato quelli che erano angoli ancora più piacevoli in originale, ma lì posso solo fare mea culpa, e decidermi a guardare definitivamente i film in lingua. A parte questo piccolo appunto, ne consiglio caldamente la visione.

Ho ascoltato con un minimo di cura Merry Go Round, secondo album di Miami & The Groovers, di cui ho scritto qualche giorno fa. Un gran bell'album, che riesce a piazzare brani intimisti come Love has no time in mezzo a classici pezzi rock come One way ride o Sliding doors, o ancora canzoni più arrabbiate come Big mistake. Suonato e prodotto molto bene, non sfigura di certo in mezzo ai cd più blasonati degli appassionati di rock. Anche qui, consigliato l'acquisto.

In chiusura, ieri ho sfoggiato le mie fiammanti Asics Gel Stratus (facciamo nomi e cognomi, così la morosa è contenta, va) in quella che è stata la corsetta più lunga dell'anno, incurante della pioggia e del freddo.

Ma in fondo siamo uomini duri. O no?

Merry Go Round

Come avevo accennato qualche tempo fa, ieri sera sono tornato allo SpazioMusica di Pavia, per lo show di Miami & The Groovers.

Ed è stato un gran bel concerto.

Non avevo mai visto Lorenzo "Miami" Semprini dal vivo con i suoi ragazzi, se non per il set di apertura per Southside Johnny, un paio d'anni fa al Transilvania di Milano, occasione in cui mi aveva già fatto una gran bell'impressione. Poi avevo sentito il disco (Dirty Roads, ottimamente suonato e prodotto) e ascoltato pareri di amici e springsteeniani, tutti positivi. Ragione di più per avere tutta la voglia di vedere il gruppo finalmente dal vivo.

Un bel set d'apertura acustico, quindi i ragazzi ci hanno dato dentro per più di due ore: tutti i pezzi del nuovissimo album Merry Go Round, più alcuni dei brani di quello precedente, e qualche cover: da I fought the law a Because the night, passando per Summertime blues, Point Blank e altre.


Lorenzo Semprini è un ragazzo che ha studiato alla sacra scuola di Elvis, Springsteen, Clash e compagnia bella, superando a pieni voti gli esami: e se, masticando l'inglese delle sue canzoni, non rinuncia a quella esse in cui si palesa tutta la sua cadenza romagnola, è vero anche che sul palco mette l'anima, oltre a fior di musicisti con tutti gli attributi al posto giusto. Non a caso, gli appuntamenti importanti in cui Miami & The Groovers si sono esibiti non sono pochi: Loose Ends in Rimini, Glory Days, Castel di Ieri Rock Nights e molti altri.

Insomma, recuperate i loro album (e non cercate di scaricarli, che tanto non si trovano), e se capitano dalle vostre parti, non lasciateveli scappare.