Roll of the Dice: Water Station

I know, I know: It’s been a long time since the last Roll of the Dice installment.

I won’t make excuses. I have eleven essays in various stages of completion, but for various reasons it’s been hard to focus on any them long enough to finish and publish. At least for the moment, however, I’m back on the horse. We’ll see if it throws me off.

What got me back in the saddle, you ask? It’s the holiday season, and I’ve got a present to share!

Longtime readers know my affinity for Bruce’s pre-label material. I’m always searching for undiscovered and uncirculating pre- ’73 gems, and boy do we have a shiny one to unearth today.

By summer’s end in 1972, Bruce Springsteen was a Columbia Records recording artist, but his debut album was still months away from release. In fact, it wasn’t even finished–at least not according to Columbia President Clive Davis, who listened to the tracks Bruce recorded for the album and declared he couldn’t hear a single.

At Davis’ insistence, Bruce spent the dog days of August writing two new songs with commercial potential and booked studio time just after Labor Day to record them.

There was just one problem: unlike the solo material that comprised nearly half the album, “Blinded by the Light” and “Spirit in the Night” were written for a full band–and Bruce’s studio band (core members of the former Bruce Springsteen Band) had by this point skipped town. Only drummer Vini Lopez was available, and in a pinch, Bruce tapped Clarence Clemons of local band The Joyful Noyze to help him out in the studio.

On Monday, September 11th, Bruce, Clarence, and Vini (along with pinch-hitter pianist Harold Wheeler) would schlep up to 914 Sound Recording Studios in Blauvelt, New York to record the final two tracks for Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. One of them would become Springsteen’s first commercial hit (albeit for another artist); the other endures as a concert favorite to this day.

But that would happen on Monday. There was a local summer weekend to get through first.

On Saturday September 9th, the town of Highlands, New Jersey played host to the First Annual Highlands Music and Art Fair, a special end-of-summer outdoor concert, postponed from Labor Day weekend due to heavy rain.

The Music half of the fair was programmed by local renaissance man and rock band patron/sound engineer/manager Carl “Tinker” West. West and his company Blah Productions (“That’s generally what I think of the music business as it stands,” he quipped to the Asbury Park Press) managed several local bands, who often appeared on the bill together at concerts and festivals along the Jersey Shore.

From early 1969 onward, Tinker’s roster included a succession of bands fronted by local phenom Bruce Springsteen, including Child, Steel Mill, The Friendly Enemies, Dr. Zoom  and the Sonic Boom, and the eponymous Bruce Springsteen Band. Under West’s management, Springsteen and his bandmates built reputations and followings across the tri-state area and as far south as Richmond, Virginia.

By late 1971, however, Tinker realized he’d taken Bruce as far as he could. Wishing only the best for his youthful client, he introduced Bruce to Mike Appel, the manager of a band called Montana Flintlock for whom Tinker was the soundman. Over the months that followed, West passed his managerial baton to the man who set in motion the chain of events that would introduce Springsteen to the rest of the world.

With Bruce hopefully on his way to the big time, West turned his focus to his other clients, including Odin, a five-man band with a sound the Asbury Park Press described as both “upbeat boogie” and “a mixture of Paul Butterfield and early Grateful Dead.”

Based in nearby Matawan, Odin made several area headlining appearances during the summer of 1972, including a free concert in Long Branch that drew at least 1,500 people (according to West’s contemporaneous estimation), making them a smart choice to headline Highlands’ end-of-summer festival.

Although Odin and Bruce had appeared on the same bill a few times, they had never shared a stage together. There was no reason to think the Highlands Music and Art Fair would be any different.

For one thing, Bruce wasn’t even on the bill. For another, given that he’d be in the studio 48 hours later with a group of musicians who hadn’t played together before, to record a pair of high-stakes tracks holding up the release of his first album… well, one might think he’d be more focused on arranging and rehearsing.

Apparently, however, Bruce had confidence to spare. He turned up in Highlands to support his former manager and colleagues. Late in the set, Odin guitarist Tom Cohen invited him to join the band on stage. If the crowd of locals noticed or recognized Springsteen as he took the stage, they certainly didn’t show it.

I’ve listened to the entire show, and it’s clear to me that Bruce had not rehearsed any material. Not because he sounded rusty or anything–in fact, it’s astounding to hear the confidence and skill with which the 22-year-old artist not only plays in but essentially fronts someone else’s band.

It’s simply that this was a true jam session, with music created on the spot drawn from tribal memory and instinct. Although the set rests on a foundation of mostly covers, Bruce doesn’t appear to know or remember all the words to the songs they perform together. Not that it stops him.

Springsteen and Odin lead off with a cover of Walter Brown’s “Confessin’ the Blues.” (Brucebase labels it a Springsteen original called “This Is My Confession,” but I can confirm with certainty that it’s actually Brown’s song.) It’s an astonishingly strong ad hoc performance, although that shouldn’t surprise given that Bruce had already performed it at least once that year, with The Sundance Blues Band. He doesn’t remember the exact sequence of the lyrics, and he improvises a couple of lines he can’t quite recall at all, but it’s easily recognizable and a terrific listen.

About four minutes into the song, Bruce starts to wander a bit, bluffing (a kind of intentional mumble-speak of lyrical snatches, made-up words, and scat) before spotting an opportunity to lead the band into a cover of “Down the Road Apiece,” every jam band’s old faithful.

Unfortunately, after barely a minute, the power fails and the jam comes to a crashing halt. (“This is wonderful,” Tinker can be heard saying on the tape.)

Fortunately, it only takes a minute to restore power, and the five minutes that follow feature a thrilling guitar duel between Springsteen and Cohen as they complete the song.

Jam sessions often start with a cover or two–a familiar foundation gives the musicians a chance to find their footing and take each other’s measure. After navigating their way through a pair of early rock classics (even with the unexpected power outage) Bruce and Odin had found their groove and confidence.

It was time to go off-road.

And now, finally, we arrive at that present I mentioned at the top of the article.

What you’re about to hear isn’t  available on YouTube or bootleg, and it hasn’t circulated amongst collectors until now. It can be described fairly as an original Springsteen song, with music co-created by Odin. It’s an improvised jam piece, with “lyrics” that to my knowledge don’t appear elsewhere in Bruce’s catalog. It’s also heavily bluffed at times, so don’t strain your ears trying to make sense of every line: sometimes Bruce just fakes it if he can’t think of a rhyme, and sometimes he opts for an easy rhyme regardless of whether it fits the narrative.

Brucebase labels this song “Water Station.” It’s a good enough name as any, as Bruce mentions it several times during the performance. Essentially, though, it’s an untitled piece of ephemera. It didn’t exist before they made it up on the spot, and if Tinker hadn’t captured it on tape, we’d never know it existed at all.

But oh my gosh, what a gorgeous recording: over fourteen minutes of crystal clear audio, with stereo separation and vocals that couldn’t possibly have sounded purer if you were there in person 51 years ago.

Again, this recording has not circulated until now. So do yourself a favor, clear your schedule for fifteen minutes, and take a listen to this piece of history.

Bruce starts off tentatively, buying himself some time to think of a theme with a few bars of “sweet mama” vamping. But before long, he’s off and running, weaving a story about an old flame named Janey and the death of the relationship (if not Janey herself) due to an unplanned pregnancy. (Again, it’s not worth trying to analyze the lyrics–this is stream-of-consciousness composition, and it’s best appreciated for what it is.)

Well mama, mama, sweet mama
And I ask you, “What can I do?”
I’m talkin’ mama, mama, sweet mama
Shake a light, and let it shine on through
‘Cuz I been down to Water Station
And I cried when I saw them there
Yes, I been down to Water Station
And I asked my Janey about the past

Because I remember back then, them sweet winters
Janey and me used to have our fun
Yes, I remember I’d give her all the love
Any lover man could give her
She caught a child back on the run
But then I saw the blood
The snow came falling down
I got children, I got children
<bluff> bad child

My bag was thrown
<bluff> I found my way around
And that’s the night that old Janey died
And I said, “Mama tell me what”
She said, “My good son, when you’re feelin’ angry,
My good son, when you’re feelin’ blue,
You just walk to your friend, mama,
And she gonna tell ya what to do
You just sing out, you go

[Scatting]

All the children sing, they just go “la la la”…

[Guitar solo/jam]

And I walked down by her station
And I got caught up, caught up in her smile
I should have known she’d really… [bluff] …nation
But I didn’t care, I just stayed and loved it a little while
Then she held her arms and she crossed, sweet tight around me
She said, “Uh huh” <bluff> of another man

She said, “Darlin’ don’t ya know I hear the sound sweet,
It’s something I can’t tell my hand on
‘Cuz, I hear the sound, I hear the sound around me”
And you call for another hand
Yes, I hear the sound, I heard the sound around me.
And she called on me for another hand
She said, “When you’re feelin’ anger, you just sing”

[Scatting]

At this point, maddeningly, the power fails once again. “Do you realize that in all the town of Highlands there’s not an extension cord?” Tinker can be heard carping. “I spent $900 to build the stage and there’s no electricity!”

Thankfully, it once again only takes a minute to restore power, and the band picks up where it left off mid-jam. Bruce takes the microphone for one final verse before tearing his way through a solo and duel with Cohen.

And it was down by the water station that they found me
Clutching <bluff> in my hand
With the rain and snow all around me
There’s something that I could not stand
Mama said son, when you’re feeling angry
Son, when you’re feeling blue
Just bring around your old doctor
Doctor gonna tell you what to do
Doctor, said sha na na na na….

<scat>

He said get on out of here!

The band takes it down for the final minute, and if we listen closely we can hear Bruce instructing the band to segue into a more upbeat mode for their final song of the day, which turns into a cover of Big Joe Williams’ “Baby, Please Don’t Go.”

Amusingly, Bruce knows barely any of the words, so he substitutes with some song lyrics he’d recorded for his upcoming album but had as yet not sang in public. I shared that performance for the first time last year, but here it is in context, segueing directly out of “Water Station.”

The band (and presumably some of the crowd), made their way to the bar after that, the First Annual Highlands Music and Art Fair now in the books. Although press coverage was, I suppose, positive (I think? The Asbury Park Press review was one of the strangest I’ve ever read), it doesn’t appear that a second installment ever came to pass.

On Monday, Bruce went to Blauvelt to lay down the final two tracks for his album with Vini and Clarence. By October 26, mixing and overdubs were complete, and Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J. was in the can.

Three days later, Bruce and Odin once again appeared on the same bill, the last time they’d ever do so. This time, though, Springsteen had his own band backing him, a new one: Vini Lopez, former Steel Mill keyboardist Danny Federici, Bruce Springsteen Band bassist Garry Tallent, and new recruit Clarence Clemons.

It was the first public performance of the group who would someday be dubbed The E Street Band.

Water Station
Never recorded
Never released
First performed: September 9, 1972 (Highlands, NJ)
Last performed: September 9, 1972 (Highlands, NJ)

Looking for your favorite Bruce song? Check our full index here. New entries coming soon! (I hope)