The Boss and the Transcendent Magic of Concerts: Bruce Springsteen’s Journey of Faith and Music
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Bruce Springsteen, affectionately known as “The Boss,” recently graced the stage of “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert” to share insights from his memoir Born to Run. In a heartfelt conversation, Springsteen opened up about his Catholic upbringing, the profound influence it has had on his music, and the almost mystical connection he experiences with his audience during live performances. With a gentle tone, he reflected on childhood memories, the language of faith in his songs, and the “magic trick” of creating something tangible and transcendent out of thin air at every concert. This article delves into these themes, painting a picture of an artist whose career is as much about spiritual resonance as it is about rock and roll.
Finding the Beginnings of Song in Catholic Roots
One of the most revealing aspects of Springsteen’s interview was his discussion of how his Catholic upbringing shaped the very foundation of his music. When Colbert admitted he hadn’t known about Springsteen’s religious background until reading Born to Run, the musician responded with a lighthearted acknowledgment of its significance. He explained that the church was where he first “found the beginnings of my song.” Though not overtly religious in his work, Springsteen admitted that the influence is “pretty overt” upon closer inspection, with imagery of nuns, immaculate conceptions, and other Catholic motifs woven into his lyrics.
This influence wasn’t just thematic but also structural. Springsteen described how his songs often follow a pattern: verses steeped in the blues, reflecting life’s struggles, and choruses that soar with the hope and transcendence of gospel music. “A lot of language found its way into my music,” he noted, crediting his early education where religion was the first class of the day. However, as a child, the weight of Catholic teachings—especially vivid depictions of hell—terrified him. At six years old, he took everything literally, feeling the reality of those lessons as tangibly as the desk he sat at. Despite the fear, these experiences gifted him a rich vocabulary of faith and redemption that continues to echo through his work.
A Reluctant Altar Boy with Stage Fright
Springsteen’s recounting of his time as an altar boy brought a wave of laughter to the audience, revealing a side of him that was far from the confident performer we know today. He candidly admitted to being “the worst altar boy on planet Earth,” driven more by the chance to skip school for rehearsals than by any spiritual calling. His mother encouraged the role, perhaps hoping it would instill discipline, but young Bruce saw it as his first taste of being “on stage”—albeit a disastrous one.
He shared a particularly memorable mishap during an early morning Mass, conducted in Latin, a language he struggled to master. At 4:30 a.m., in the pitch-black streets, he’d run to church, cassock trailing behind, gripped by terror because he knew he hadn’t learned the proper positioning or prayers. Tasked with lighting the candles, he couldn’t even manage that simple duty. As the Mass began, with his entire family—mother, aunts, and relatives—watching alongside the nuns, disaster struck. In the middle of the service, an 81-year-old monsignor physically dragged him by his cassock, knocking him face-down on the altar to an audible gasp from the congregation. “I don’t think I served another Mass after that,” he chuckled, marking the end of his brief stint as an altar boy. This story, told with self-deprecating humor, highlights a humbling beginning that contrasts sharply with the commanding presence he exudes on stage today.
The Magic Trick: Creating Transcendence with the Audience
Beyond childhood memories, Springsteen offered a poetic reflection on what he calls the “magic trick” of performing live—a concept that left Colbert in awe. He described stepping into an empty venue before a show, a space devoid of life or meaning until the audience arrives. Together, performer and crowd manifest something real and tangible, pulling it “out of thin air.” “It wasn’t there before you showed up. It didn’t exist,” he mused, likening this process to real magic. His job, night after night, is to assist in creating this shared experience, one that can be cathartic and, on the best nights, transcendent.
Colbert, drawing a parallel to Catholic theology, suggested the term “transubstantiation”—the transformation of one substance into another, like bread into the body of Christ during Mass. Springsteen, laughing at his own rusty altar boy knowledge, embraced the metaphor, agreeing that he and his audience become “a bit of another thing.” This transformation is palpable, something “in the air” during a performance, where emotions run high, and grown men might be moved to tears. It’s a moment of losing oneself, of connection, that defines the essence of his concerts.
When asked how he knows the “trick” has worked, Springsteen spoke of an instinctive feeling, a shift in the atmosphere. While certain songs can push the crowd over the edge into this shared euphoria, he emphasized that no two nights are ever the same. Even playing the identical setlist, the experience remains fresh, akin to a first kiss felt anew each time. “If you could have your first kiss on a nightly basis, for some reason, the show provides that sense of newness,” he explained. This ability to evoke a life-altering moment for thousands, night after night, across diverse global audiences, is what makes his work extraordinary. The trick, he concluded, lies in manifesting a sense of “us”—a profound bond between artist and audience.
A Career of Connection and Renewal
Springsteen’s words on stage magic reveal why he remains an enduring figure in music. His concerts are not mere performances but communal rituals, spaces where struggles voiced in bluesy verses find resolution in gospel-inspired choruses. This duality, rooted in his Catholic education, mirrors the human experience—pain and hope intertwined. His ability to create something from nothing, to transform an empty arena into a vessel of emotion, speaks to a deeper calling, one perhaps unknowingly nurtured by those early, fear-filled days in church.
His altar boy anecdote, while humorous, underscores a journey of growth. From a terrified child stumbling through Latin prayers to a rock icon who commands stages worldwide, Springsteen has learned to channel fear into art. That early “stage” on the altar, though a fiasco, planted seeds of performance, teaching him resilience and the importance of presence, even when unprepared. Today, that presence is his greatest strength, turning each concert into a unique, unrepeatable moment of connection.
A Legacy of Transcendence
Reflecting on Born to Run, both the album and memoir, it’s clear that Springsteen’s story is one of constant evolution. The book, which moved Colbert to tears, is a testament to his ability to weave personal history with universal themes, much like his music. His Catholic roots, though not always explicit, provide a lens through which to view his work—a search for redemption, a dialogue between the earthly and the divine. Lines about nuns and immaculate conceptions may be “a little overheated,” as he admitted with a smile, but they carry the weight of a childhood steeped in sacred imagery.
The “magic trick” he performs nightly is perhaps the ultimate expression of this legacy. It’s a reminder that music, at its best, transcends the individual, becoming a shared act of creation. Springsteen doesn’t just play for his audience; he creates with them, forging a bond that feels new each time. This sense of renewal, of turning an empty space into a cathedral of emotion, is what keeps fans returning, decade after decade.
Bruce Springsteen’s conversation with Stephen Colbert offered a window into the soul of an artist shaped by faith, fear, and an unyielding desire to connect. From the haunting lessons of Catholic school to the clumsy missteps of an altar boy, his early experiences gifted him a language of struggle and salvation that permeates his music. On stage, he performs a “magic trick,” transforming empty venues into spaces of transcendence, where he and his audience become something greater together. With a career spanning decades, Springsteen continues to manifest this magic, night after night, proving that true art lies not just in performance but in the shared, fleeting moments of human connection. His story, as told in Born to Run and through gentle reflections on “The Late Show,” is a reminder that even the most iconic figures carry humble beginnings—and that from those beginnings, something truly transcendent can emerge.
