September 11

On September 11th I listened to Bruce Springsteen The Rising and Pearl Jam 8/29/00 Boston, Massachusetts (Bootleg).

By the time The Rising was released on July 30, 2002, the events of 9/11 were still a vivid nightmare for most. The fires were out, the debris was almost cleared and the dead were laid to rest… what could be found of them. (I’m sorry if that sounds callous, but that’s the truth and it still boils my blood.) 

The fog over lower Manhattan, D.C. and Shanksville, PA still stretched out over the nation like a ghost haunting us with questions that couldn't be answered. Fall had turned to winter, winter had given way to spring and when the summer started to heat up an oncoming restlessness for the looming anniversary, Bruce gave us a masterpiece.

A war was being fought halfway around the world and a manhunt was under way, but to what end? Too many of us were just numb. Sure, there had been laughter mixed in with the tears since the day the towers came down and maybe I’m being a bit melodramatic, but I was definitely still in a haze. I was going to sleep with the TV on, so I could wake up to the Today show… for some nod of security. We were closer to the one year mark than we were to the actual day, and we needed something to focus unsettling energies and confusing thoughts.

I’m certainly not about to say that The Rising was an answer to anyone's prayers because I can’t speak for anyone but myself. I didn't lose anybody on September 11, 2001 and my experiences were like most. I watched from the sidelines of tragedy every night. I read the stories from our brothers and sisters suffering through the cold blooded and meaningless attack, continually asking myself, “what can I do?” You write a check for the Red Cross, you drop some supplies off at the grocery store and hope you’re somehow contributing. I wasn’t looking for an answer dropped from the heavens, I just needed something or somebody to make it feel like “everything’s gonna be alright.”

I needed a focus. I needed an eloquent chorus of joy and sorrow to join in on from an every man perspective. Be damned the talking heads and political bullshit. I needed something to allow my thoughts to move away from loss and sadness and give me a way to let go.. just enough.

The Rising became a touchstone to keep the fear of the future at bay and to lay some demons to rest. The Rising gave me a pardon from grief and permission to move on by paying the utmost respect to the dead and praising the human spirit.

It’s an album so steeped in faith, religion, beauty, survival, happiness, grief, strength and hope it fucking hurts. It is one of a very few collections of music that can truly be called a triumph.  

Every line sung on the album had weight and meaning. Almost every lyric can be intertwined with the events and aftermath of 9/11. Spirituality is a big part of the album, and boy didn't a lot of us start looking to God to make some sense of the senseless after that heartless bullshit. And then through the fog here comes Bruce with songs about God, resilience, reflection, the Virgin Mary and the simple pleasures of living while staring death in the face. Strength to move forward!

I can not listen to this album without becoming overwhelmed with a flood of emotion. Sometimes I cry and sometimes I just get lost in thoughts of 9/11. I simultaneously love and hate that about this record. Throw it on at a BBQ in June and I might just have to excuse myself, while cursing the name Springsteen for reducing me to a flood of emotion… and for being so God damn good. If you haven’t listened to this whole record in a while or ever, you need to do it right now.

I know it’s just a record. It doesn't explain the meaning of life, but I’m thankful for it. I’m proud of the bravery of the men and women who lost their lives trying to save the lives of others on that Tuesday. I will never forget the souls who perished in such a terrible way and the loved ones they left behind. Every year I watch them read the names of the dead and it doesn't take me long to break down and cry. I hope they NEVER stop doing that and always broadcast it on television.

In The Rising I found some peace.

I picked this bootleg from Pearl Jam for one reason, “I Am A Patriot.” A song, coincidentally, written by a member of the E Street Band, Steven Van Zandt.

The show is absolutely stunning. Whenever I listen to really good “bootlegs,” official or unofficial, I always think I gotta listen to more stuff like this. I’m no Pearl Jam superfan, but I've seen them a bunch of times and never walked away disappointed. Eddie and the boys put on a fucking show!

This is a story I have never told anybody and will never actually verbalize. I’m going to write it now and that will be it.

I was living in Philadelphia on September 11, 2001 and working for the Alternative Rock radio station Y100, as a weekend part time DJ. I had a full time gig with a radio trade rag and we were given that Wednesday off. I can’t remember if I even went in on that Thursday or Friday. (I wrote that assuming we all know beyond a shadow of a doubt that 9/11 happened on a Tuesday.)

Jim Slusarek was the PD of Y100 and soon after 9/11 he added “I Am A Patriot,” from this bootleg, into heavy rotation on the station. It was beyond cool and comforting. He also sent out a memo to the jocks saying that if there was any song on the music log that we didn't want to play for any reason related to the attacks that we didn't have to play it. “Just cross it off the list and move on to the next song. Add something at the end of the hour to fill the time.” I dropped a few songs here and there.

My first time on the air was on that Saturday. I didn't say much and wouldn't for a few weeks. I was certainly not going to be my usual goofball self. I said the call letters, introduced the new songs, and read the liners about station events, and that was it. I had no intention of addressing anything about the attacks or trying to express my sympathy or disgust. I had a job to do, and that was just to keep the music going. At the time I knew my limits and don’t regret not using that high wattage soapbox to do anything else. I spoke in a tone that implied I was feeling what you (the audience) were, so let’s just listen to some music for a few hours and try to escape.

There was a jock on WYSP in Philadelphia that handled that approach better than anybody. Cousin Ed was a total weirdo/goofball on the air, but after 9/11 he adopted a tone of solace that just spoke volumes.

September 15, 2001. I’m pretty sure I was on from 3-7 that Saturday afternoon. I had taken a few talk breaks, didn't say much and was just pushing through the shift. The TV in the studio was tuned to one of the news outlets playing videos of the planes crashing into the World Trade Center towers on repeat and I hit play on “I Am A Patriot.”

From the moment I had woken up on 9/11 until now I had not shed one single tear. I still ask myself if it was because I was completely desensitized, I was trying to keep a brave face, or if I was simply overwhelmed with so many different emotions that tears and absolute sadness had yet to catch up to me.

As I listened to “I Am A Patriot” and watched video of total awfulness for the one hundredth time, I completely broke down. 

Hysterical waves of emotion washed over me and I collapsed in the corner of the studio in tears. I knew I was completely alone in the entire building and glad nobody would find me in such a state. Yet, a giant part of me was hoping that somebody, anybody would come in and give me a hug. I would have even gladly taken one from that asshole Brett Hamilton. (He was just some dick that worked there. Little short guy... you know the type.)

I don’t think I was ever the same person again.

"I only regret that I only have but one life to give for my country," said Nathan Hale. I like to think that some of the patriots that died on 9/11 would agree with Nathan, if given the chance.