| Dave Edmunds |
It was the Fourth of July, 1981. I wasn't on the guest list or anything, but with my good friend Capital Radio DJ Roger Scott, we parked up at Wembley Stadium, London. Taking a deep breath, we surfed through the over-sold throng on Roger's 'all access' pass to witness Bruce Springsteen and his E Street Band play their entire, exhilarating, three-hour-plus set to above expectations.
Shuffling our way towards the exits among the herds of thousands of exhausted Bruce-worshipers, I felt a firm grip on my shoulder: "Bruce wants to see you!" The firm grip belonged to a massive, heavily tattooed 'security' guy with an intense New Jersey accent who was yelling into his CB radio, "I'VE FOUND HIM!"
I'd never met Bruce Springsteen before and had no idea of what he knew about me (except, perhaps, for my recording of 'I Hear You Knocking' and a few others). How had he known that I was at the gig? The security guy led me through the backstage area to Bruce's dressing room, where he was sitting alone. Being careful not to blurt out, "Great show, man!" (you don't do that), and before either of us could say anything, a noisy E Street Band stormed through making their way towards the hospitality area: "Hi Dave, love your records!" And, "Hi Dave, you're terrific, man!" – and so on. And off they went.
We talked – about what I don't recall. He asked me if I'd been recording lately and I said, "No" – "Got anything…?" He strapped on his Fender Esquire and explained, "This is like a Chuck Berry thing that tells a story without repeating any of the lyrics, like The Promised Land." And he played 'From Small Things Mama Good Things One Day Come' (not the snappiest of titles) – from beginning to end. It was perfect for me! "It's yours, man!"
He hadn't recorded the song but promised he'd lay down a rough cassette with just guitar and vocal – for me! "Gimme a couple of weeks…," and I could pick it up at his manager's office, in New York. In such encounters, such promises can evaporate before you leave the room. The way things worked out, I needed to be in New York a few weeks later, and that's the truth. I went to his manager's office and, sure enough, there was a cassette of Bruce's song, with my name on it, awaiting me. That's class.
Six months later, midway through a US tour with my band, I was playing at the Peppermint Lounge in Manhattan. Bruce turned up — unannounced and alone but for his Fender Esquire. It was good to see him. He waited patiently in the dressing room until the end of my set, and then (although the audience knew something was cooking) he sauntered onstage — you can imagine. We played a load of Chuck Berry songs and ended with "Small Things." So, good things one day come.
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