Wednesday, November 20, 2002
np: josh ritter - s/t
i saw bruce springsteen play last saturday here in greensboro. i had upper level, rear view (behind stage) seats. and yet, it was still one of the best concerts i've ever seen. it's one of those rare occurances where you walk out of a show feeling so much better about humanity and love and respect and hope. he's like a healing process. his shows are triumphant acknowledgements of both injustice and opportunity. the chance to fix it all. the chance to fight the good fight. when he sang "my city of ruins" and the absolutely visceral chorus came:
"come on, rise up. come on, rise up..." repeated. over and over. it's brilliant.
and even the people who booed him in new york when he pulled out the absolutely haunting "american skin (41 shots)" have to see. they can't hold a grudge. they too realise why he's as important and invigorating as he is. and why, inevitably, he's right. and police officers stepped over the line. and shot the american dream, in the form of abadou diallo, already on its last, weak, wobbly, decrepent legs...dead. in the street. forty-one shots. nineteen bullet holes.
justice.
i'm white. native born. male. i can't know what it's like for the people who have to suffer through this bullshit day by day. but i can recognize the terrible nature of things. and damnit. it's time for a change. police brutality didn't end on september eleventh. it just became a whole new ballgame.
