The Saint asbury park NJ.
The years are stitched together to make this place; concert posters, old advertising boards, Knick knacks, found art, beer clocks, etc. A veritable sum of all it’s parts. Part of Asbury Park history. So many bands, So many fans have danced, sang, spit, bled, screamed, pissed, fallen, risen, sat, laughed and cried here. As one enters it can all be felt. There is a word for such: soul. It may sound trite, this overused word like lights when night is up right and kickin it. Like fight comes to mind when the sin stops lending it…money, time, worry, fret, sighing.
Scott shook our hands, learned our names and made us some coffee as soon as we walked in the door. This is good hospitality. Something’s can’t be learned in books. Common courtesy and kindness are a couple of those.
He told stories about The Ramones and Ween playing here. The guy was just so laid back and cool.
This show would be the smallest turn out of the tour, but maybe the most heart of any crowd. Boston was hearty too. But Jersey had attitude, down to earth humor and passion for the band.
These are the kinds of shows that can twist ones mind into doubt about the future and the past. If after so many years of playing great shows, making good records, shaking everybody’s hands and saying thanks for coming, we can’t draw a better crowd on a Sunday night in Asbury Park, NJ then what have we really accomplished? And, if we haven’t broken through that glass hipster ceiling by now, can we, should we, do we even want to anymore?
Those kinds of thoughts must haunt everyone, in some way, shape or form, from all walks of life. Life is full of little lotteries. Some guy gets to be VP of operations, some other woman guides her first business into the fortune 500 and some other guy he gets to be Bob Dylan. The rest of us are at home, happy with our lives. Or we’re here in Asbury Park NJ at The Saint on a Sunday night.
But the street food is sublime, the beer is cold and we are among true friends and fans for a night of loose, gourdsian exploratory celebration. Nothing can change the present reality of rock show. When it’s show time, we go, we sing, we play, we dance, we talk and laugh. The spirit never leaves us. The dream has been realized, for years. This is what we are, this is what we do. And it is fucking great.
Of all the bands around the world, on a Sunday night, gathered together with their fans and a few friends, this has got to be one of the best shows of the tour. I wonder if we are just happier in this situation sometimes. After playing to thousands of people on other nights, an intimate little club in Jersey seems down right enjoyable. I’ll leave the questions and doubts for later, in the hotel where I can imbibe in a little group therapy. No reason to go it alone. As for now, it’s all about Jersey and The Saint. Thanks Scott for a great time.
