Clarence Clemons

"And the miles we have come

And the battles won and lost

Are just so many roads traveled

So many rivers crossed."

-Bruce Springsteen

I hear the sounds of Clarence Clemons every single day. When people talk to me about music, barely a second goes by without me saying "Bruce Springsteen". It's on sad days like this when I am reminded that Springsteen's music is not just one man. The songs I love the most he created with the E Street Band. Some of the greatest moments of my life have been in concert venues around the UK at the very precise moments when the Big Man has stepped in with his saxophone.

My all-time favourite song is "Thunder Road". I listen to it every single day. The best part of the song is the refrain that comes after "It's a town full of losers and I'm pulling out of here to win"; and the beautiful, uplifting sound of Clarence Clemons is all over it. I remember after my Aunt died a few years back, my Uncle repeatedly listened to "Secret Garden"; and it was that last minute he was craving, when Clarence Clemon's sax somehow manages to break your heart and heal your heart all in the space of a minute.

You don't always get to hear "Jungleland" in concert, but when you do, you are suddenly reminded of what it is to be alive. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band aren't just a band, they're something more. Their music is a way of life, a belief, a window into who we are. They're heart and soul. You feel it when you hear them play Jungleland. So do a hundred thousand other people. I don't know whether they'll ever play it again. "Jungleland" without Clarence isn't 'Jungleland'.

There will never be another E Street Band. I'm watching 'Live in Barcelona' as I write this. They just step into the arena, pick up their instruments, and play. These guys know all of their songs inside out. And they tour and they tour and they tour, playing three hour sets every night. These guys are hitting seventy. I work for seventy minutes and need a break. But the E Street Band put the work first and you see that the work doesn't wear them out, it gives them energy.

Clarence Clemons was the soul of E Street. But what does that mean? Well, for me; it means being in some arena or stadium, and you're enjoying yourself but it's just a concert, just some music. It's better than being at home on Facebook, but at the same time you're aware of your tiredness and your personal problems and the aching pain in your bad knee. But then Clemons would launch into something on the saxophone. And it wouldn't necessarily be a showstopping 'look-at-me' moment. He'd just sneak in there, do his work. But it would grab you. Take you in. And suddenly you're not in the same world as everyone else. Your life isn't about petty problems and pains in your joints and break-ups. You're with the Gods now. You're floating up in the skies yet somehow you're deeply immersed in life and all of its possibilities. That is what music can do when it truly reaches us.

That's why fans of Bruce Springsteen get so disheartened when they can't get their kids to sit down and listen to "Born To Run". Because they know the reward if you put in the work. They know why the ticket prices are worth it. There's magic.

"We learned more from a three minute record baby, than we ever learned in school."

-Bruce Springsteen

I listen to Springsteen every day. And I'd say 70% of that music features Clarence Clemons. Just yesterday, I was playing "Thunder Road" in a friend's car, and later that night when I was walking back from another friend's BBQ in the pouring rain I had "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" in my headphones. It was as fresh as the first time I heard it.

The loss of Clarence Clemons is a big one, and a part of me is truly heartbroken. But he lives on in the way that only the true greats can. That moment I was talking about, when a piece of music lifts you up into the stars --- that's outside of the ordinary plane of existence. That's bigger than the street you live in. That's the stuff of the soul and the spirit and some big giant essence that is love and heaven and whatever it is that somehow, sometimes, makes life just so fucking worth it.

Clarence Clemons will live forever.

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An Important Film To Watch: One Of Her Own (1994)

"Everybody is backing Charlie up, all the guys are."

"Welcome to the boy's club."

Rape. That's what this film is about. That's not something we talk about much. And it's not the topic of many films. Sometimes films do broach the subject, but it's usually done because it makes the plot more interesting, or because some male filmmaker things it will titillate and drum up more publicity (The Human Centipede 2 is art? Really? Do women have to be raped throughout? Couldn't they just do oil paintings of boats instead?). Films rarely delve deeply into the topic. In part, it's because films are mostly made by, and cater to, men. But also, even for people interested in looking into the subject -- it is a sensitive topic, the cause of much trauma, for a large proportion of society. That makes it difficult to get right and be made in an appropriate way. 

In 'One Of Her Own' we get to see it from the perspective of the victim. The screenwriter, Valerie West, made the clever choice to have this story play out between the staff of a police department -- which you could say is the ultimate boys club, where people don't rat on each other, they stick up for one another. But what happens when a woman is in the mix? And what happens when one of her own rapes her?

This film addresses the harsh realities of rape. How men will often question a woman's motives for claiming she's been raped, or how they'll question her sex life. It's often the case that people's natural instincts are to ask "Why would she claim he raped her?" rather than ask "Why did he do it?" Criminals are rightfully seen as innocent until proven guilty, but the sad fact is; victims of rape are often seen as lying until proven truthful. I wonder why that is. This film gives clues -- as we see issues play out between the genders. 

Women are alone when this happens. In the film, Toni's first concern is can I tell my boss, or will I lose my job? Especially as she's new at her job. What a scary world when a victim of such a disgusting crime has the very real concern that telling her superiors may lead to her own demise. 

Everything in this film is heightened, because it's the police force. But the same dynamic plays out in more mundane settings.

Less than half of all rapes are reported. Every three minutes a woman is raped in America. Every minute in Africa. This happens to men, too -- but for the most part, on a day to day basis, men are the perpetrators. 

The silence of good people plays its part, it's part of the problem. We see that throughout the film --- the male characters shy away from being involved, from being supportive, from standing up for what's right. Female victims are also silent -- because of fears of the repercussions.

'One Of Her Own' is a moving film. It's heartbreaking to see her pain, her inner struggles, the difficulty in navigating through the relationships and conflicts she has with her friends, and her colleagues.  This particular film is fictional, but what it represents isn't. A lot of people who see this film will relate to it. That's why it's important to watch; it has a lot of truths which people like myself have the privilege of not having as their own reality. Films help us see the rest of the world --for better or worse-- they help us understand it, and to see what is really happening.

This topic is often ignored. Or, when it's brought up, it's quietly swept under the rug. It's something we need to be less uninformed and ignorant about, because it permeates through the society we live in, and the people we know.

"I loved being a police officer. I was a good officer. But I made a mistake, I kept quiet about something that I shouldn't have. And I convinced myself that was the only sensible thing to do. Something happened that made me realise that I was wrong to keep quiet. It occurred to me that there were probably hundreds of thousands of women out there, who at one time or another had kept quiet about something equally horrible or perhaps even more horrible. And that they did it because they were like me. They were frightened, frightened for their jobs, frightened of their husbands or their boyfriends. Frightened by their community. And I thought fear is not a good reason to keep silent, it is wrong and it is selfish and other women might get hurt. So I am glad that I came forward, very glad, because it has made me realise that I can never again afford to be afraid."

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Films About Ghosts

The woman next to me on the train has the same perfume as my ex-girlfriend. I've not been around this smell in three years. 

The memories come flooding back of the times that smell was most potent. Some of those were very intimate, but others were a gust of wind when we walked by the sea, or when she shuffled around trying to get comfortable in the car.

Those memories are just like movies. Little pieces of cinema in my mind. The only difference being the odours. You can smell a memory. I'm still on the train and this woman has no idea she's sent me tripping back to the past.

Films are strange because once they're done, that's it. You can go back again and again but you're rewatching the same thing.

Memories are different. They fade. They're not Blu-ray, they're old VHS copies. They wear out.

With a movie you believe that Harry and Sally stay together, maybe Alvy and Annie hold on to something.

In real life you're left with a smell. She's somewhere else now, and you're on a train dreaming of years that died long ago. They are so real, yet somehow feel like they never existed at all. They're just some movie you watched.

"If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts" -Adam Duritz.

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Dust

The hardest thing of all, is writing what's really in your heart. It's usually that very thing that makes you bolt it towards your laptop, desperate to capture in a bottle the spark of yourself that you just figured out.

But when you get there, a little something dies every time, and it blurs into ideas of stories and characters and meanings and somehow, you just lose something.

But the films you love, that you REALLY love, the ones that you cried yourself to sleep over when someone left you or when you felt all alone or when your friend died; you know those movies? The reason they resonate with you was because someone thumped their heart down on a page, or into a scene; and you saw them, you truly saw THEM ---- and because of that, you saw you. You saw your heart and soul smashed down on a page and rolled out on a screen and dumped in front of you.

But getting to those heights with your own work is the toughest thing of all. Because you tell yourself it's always too cheesy, or too personal, or too emotional, or too esoteric, or too much of a blur inside your brain.

The things you know and feel the most, the things you are so DESPERATE to say; despite the fact you know them with such definiteness and clarity -- despite that, when it comes to it; it seems you hardly know them at all. The very core of you you are, when it comes to chucking it out onto the page, it becomes a blur, a something, a speck of dust in a room of old books. Writing and directing and acting, they're all looking for that one piece of truth, yet the distractions are abundant everywhere we look. We always find a way to obscure it, to over-complicate it, to miss it.

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STEVEN SPIELBERG Interview at AIN'T IT COOL NEWS

Spielberg, he's one of us. Just a kid who loves movies. Check out Quint's amazing interview with the one and only Steven Spielberg here.

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