From National Review Online:
Not Everything Is About Race
A wrong and reckless approach.
By Peter Wehner

In his Friday column, E.J. Dionne of the Washington Post writes this:

Republicans clearly know that they can find ways to play on racial feeling while fully denying they are doing so. On Wednesday, the North Carolina Republican Party released a television ad showing Obama's former pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, giving his now-famous sermon in which he declared, "God damn America." Of course Wright's comments were offensive, but to pretend that the ad does not have racial undertones would be to deny the obvious. After all, why didn't North Carolina Republicans focus instead on attacking Obama's alleged "elitism" or his foreign policy views?

But the ad in question doesn’t mention race anywhere; rather, it includes a clip of Reverend Wright’s incendiary words. Wright happens to be black — but his race is not the reason he’s in the ad. His words are — and if Wright were white, his words and picture would still be used.

Dionne argues that racism has to be the motivation of the North Carolina Republican party because the ad showed Wright’s comments instead of focusing on Obama’s foreign-policy views. But perhaps the reason for that is that Wright’s words insisting that God “damn America” — which Dionne himself concedes are “offensive” and has elsewhere described as “anti-American,” “lunatic,” “pernicious,” and ones we should “loathe” — are far more troubling to many Americans than Obama’s stand on the U.N. or the E.U.

If the ads are racist, then does Dionne believe asking questions about Wright is racist as well? Are news networks racist for having played the clips in the first place? Are columnists who write on this topic playing on racial fears as well?

It doesn’t help matters, of course, when Senator McCain asserts the ads are “unacceptable” and worth “repudiating.” Senator McCain never explains why, perhaps because the ads merely quote Reverend Wright, whom Obama spent 20 years worshiping under and developed a close personal relationship with. Does McCain believe those who are concerned about Obama’s association with Wright are acting against the spirit of Lincoln, TR, and Ronald Reagan (who himself was falsely accused of racism by liberals countless times)?

These kind of criticisms, un-anchored to any persuasive or substantive argument, are the kind that conservatives find discouraging and disturbing. The senior senator from Arizona could probably find more constructive things to do with his time than to help those on the Left brand conservatives as racists. The deeper damage, of course, will be that when real racism does emerge — and it does exist — the accusations will be largely dismissed.

What Dionne is doing, and what McCain is aiding Dionne in doing, is wrong and reckless. People who are troubled by what the Reverend Jeremiah Wright Jr. said — which is just about everyone who heard what Wright said — are not racists, and calling attention to what Wright said is not racism. To pretend that’s the case is an effort at intimidation, and I rather doubt it will work. The Wright issue won’t go away, nor should it.

— Peter Wehner, former deputy assistant to the president, is a senior fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center.

Danny Federici: Memorial salute at Stone Pony
By STEPHEN BOVE
ASBURY PARK PRESS

With Bruce Springsteen's boardwalk anthem "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)" playing on The Stone Pony PA system, heavy hearts gave way to lifted spirits as friends and loved ones came together Wednesday to honor Danny Federici in true E Street fashion.

The E Street Band keyboard and accordion player died April 17 after a three-year battle with melanoma.

"You might not have known he was there, but you're sure gonna miss him now. You're no longer going to hear all those colors he was painting with that B3 of his," said Vini "Mad Dog" Lopez, who began performing with Federici in the late 1960s in such bands as Child and Steel Mill. "Danny was the true background musician; he makes everyone else in that band shine."

Having worked with Springsteen for 40 years -- longer than any other E Street band member -- Federici (often introduced on stage by Springsteen as "Phantom Dan") added a key element to the E Street sound.

"He brought that boardwalk sound, that kaleidoscope sound, to Bruce's lyrics," said Hoboken resident Bob DellaFave. "Danny never got the credit that he deserved, and I think that's probably a lot by choice. In 40 years, nothing has been just about Danny and I think that he liked it that way. He enjoyed being a person that was always behind the scenes."

It wasn't just performers from the fabled glory days who came out.

"As a keyboard player myself, Danny Federici has always been someone I've respected. Watching him inspired me to do what I do. That's why I came to pay my respects," said Ben Feld, part of local jam band Turtle Soup. "Bruce Springsteen said that Danny made the sounds of central and southern New Jersey come alive in his music, that he really could make you feel like you were at the boardwalk. I absolutely believe that."

Federici's final live performance was a surprise appearance with The E Street Band during a show March 20 at Conseco Field House in Indianapolis.

"I could tell you a million stories from the glory days, and Danny would be in every one; he was always in the movie," said Tinker West, who managed Federici during his days with Steel Mill. "The man could sit down anywhere and play, and everyone would take notice. He really could play anything.

"More importantly though, he had a great soul, and he'd do anything for you," West said.

Gary Mottola, president of Madison Marquette, the company rebuilding many Asbury Park boardwalk attractions, addressed the crowd early in the show.

"Every time I hear 'Sandy,' I'm haunted by that incredible accordion melody in the background," Mottola said. "Of course, that's Danny's melody, and I can only think that when we hear that now, we'll be even more haunted and more provoked emotionally. It's just an amazing performance and one of many amazing performances."

In honor of his father, Federici's son, Jason, has started The Danny Federici Melanoma Fund, dedicated to the development of treatments for melanoma through funding for clinical trials.

For more information, visit www.thedannyfedericimelanomafund.com/.

From the official site: This eulogy was delivered by Bruce Springsteen
at Danny's funeral on April 21 in Red Bank, New Jersey:
FAREWELL TO DANNY

Let me start with the stories.

Back in the days of miracles, the frontier days when "Mad Dog" Lopez
and his temper struck fear into the band, small club owners, innocent
civilians and all women, children and small animals.

Back in the days when you could still sign your life away on the hood
of a parked car in New York City.

Back shortly after a young red-headed accordionist struck gold on the
Ted Mack Amateur Hour and he and his mama were sent to Switzerland to
show them how it's really done.

Back before beach bums were featured on the cover of Time magazine.

I'm talking about back when the E Street Band was a communist
organization! My pal, quiet, shy Dan Federici, was a one-man creator
of some of the hairiest circumstances of our 40 year career... And
that wasn't easy to do. He had "Mad Dog" Lopez to compete with....
Danny just outlasted him.

Maybe it was the "police riot" in Middletown, New Jersey. A show we
were doing to raise bail money for "Mad Log" Lopez who was in jail in
Richmond, Virginia, for having an altercation with police officers who
we'd aggravated by playing too long. Danny allegedly knocked over our
huge Marshall stacks on some of Middletown's finest who had rushed the
stage because we broke the law by...playing too long.

As I stood there watching, several police oficers crawled out from
underneath the speaker cabinets and rushed away to seek medical
attention. Another nice young officer stood in front of me onstage
waving his nightstick, poking and calling me nasty names. I looked
over to see Danny with a beefy police officer pulling on one arm while
Flo Federici, his first wife, pulled on the other, assisting her man
in resisting arrest.

A kid leapt from the audience onto the stage, momentarily distracting
the beefy officer with the insults of the day. Forever thereafter,
"Phantom" Dan Federici slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

A warrant out for his arrest and one month on the lam later, he still
hadn't been brought to justice. We hid him in various places but now
we had a problem. We had a show coming at Monmouth College. We needed
the money and we had to do the gig. We tried a replacement but it
didn't work out. So Danny, to all of our admiration, stepped up and
said he'd risk his freedom, take the chance and play.

Show night. 2,000 screaming fans in the Monmouth College gym. We had
it worked out so Danny would not appear onstage until the moment we
started playing. We figured the police who were there to arrest him
wouldn't do so onstage during the show and risk starting another riot.

Let me set the scene for you. Danny is hiding, hunkered down in the
backseat of a car in the parking lot. At five minutes to eight, our
scheduled start time, I go out to whisk him in. I tap on the window.

"Danny, come on, it's time."

I hear back, "I'm not going."

Me: "What do you mean you're not going?"

Danny: "The cops are on the roof of the gym. I've seen them and
they're going to nail me the minute I step out of this car."

As I open the door, I realize that Danny has been smoking a little
something and had grown rather paranoid. I said, "Dan, there are no
cops on the roof."

He says, "Yes, I saw them, I tell you. I'm not coming in."

So I used a procedure I'd call on often over the next forty years in
dealing with my old pal's concerns. I threatened him...and cajoled.
Finally, out he came. Across the parking lot and into the gym we swept
for a rapturous concert during which we laughted like thieves at our
excellent dodge of the local cops.

At the end of the evening, during the last song, I pulled the entire
crowd up onto the stage and Danny slipped into the audience and out
the front door. Once again, "Phantom" Dan had made his exit. (I still
get the occasional card from the old Chief of Police of Middletown
wishing us well. Our histories are forever intertwined.) And that, my
friends, was only the beginning.

There was the time Danny quit the band during a rough period at Max's
Kansas City, explaining to me that he was leaving to fix televisions.
I asked him to think about that and come back later.

Or Danny, in the band rental car, bouncing off several parked cars
after a night of entertainment, smashing out the windshield with his
head but saved from severe injury by the huge hard cowboy hat he
bought in Texas on our last Western swing.

Or Danny, leaving a large marijuana plant on the front seat of his car
in a tow away zone. The car was promptly towed. He said, "Bruce, I'm
going to go down and report that it was stolen." I said, "I'm not sure
that's a good idea."

Down he went and straight into the slammer without passing go.

Or Danny, the only member of the E Street Band to be physically thrown
out of the Stone Pony. Considering all the money we made them, that
wasn't easy to do.

Or Danny receiving and surviving a "cautionary assault" from an
enraged but restrained "Big Man" Clarence Clemons while they were
living together and Danny finally drove the "Big Man" over the big
top.

Or Danny assisting me in removing my foot from his stereo speaker
after being the only band member ever to drive me into a violent rage.

And through it all, Danny played his beautiful, soulful B3 organ for
me and our love grew. And continued to grow. Life is funny like that.
He was my homeboy, and great, and for that you make considerations...
And he was much more tolerant of my failures than I was of his.

When Danny wasn't causing chaos, he was a sweet, talented, unassuming,
unpretentious good-hearted guy who simply had an unchecked ability to
make good fortune and things in general go fabulously wrong.

But beyond all of that, he also had a mountain of the right stuff. He
had the heart and soul of an engineer. He learned to fly. He was
always up on the latest technology and would explain it to you
patiently and in enormous detail. He was always "souping" something
up, his car, his stereo, his B3. When Patti joined the band, he was
the most welcoming, thoughtful, kindest friend to the first woman
entering our "boys club."

He loved his kids, always bragging about Jason, Harley, and Madison,
and he loved his wife Maya for the new things she brought into his
life.

And then there was his artistry. He was the most intuitive player I've
ever seen. His style was slippery and fluid, drawn to the spaces the
other musicians in the E Street Band left. He wasn't an assertive
player, he was a complementary player. A true accompanist. He
naturally supplied the glue that bound the band's sound together. In
doing so, he created for himself a very specific style. When you hear
Dan Federici, you don't hear a blanket of sound, you hear a riff,
packed with energy, flying above everything else for a few moments and
then gone back in the track. "Phantom" Dan Federici. Now you hear him,
now you don't.

Offstage, Danny couldn't recite a lyric or a chord progression for one
of my songs. Onstage, his ears opened up. He listened, he felt, he
played, finding the perfect hole and placement for a chord or a flurry
of notes. This style created a tremendous feeling of spontaneity in
our ensemble playing.

In the studio, if I wanted to loosen up the track we were recording,
I'd put Danny on it and not tell him what to play. I'd just set him
loose. He brought with him the sound of the carnival, the amusements,
the boardwalk, the beach, the geography of our youth and the heart and
soul of the birthplace of the E Street Band.

Then we grew up. Very slowly. We stood together through a lot of
trials and tribulations. Danny's response to a mistake onstage, hard
times, catastrophic events was usually a shrug and a smile. Sort of an
"I am but one man in a raging sea, but I'm still afloat. And we're all
still here."

I watched Danny fight and conquer some tough addictions. I watched him
struggle to put his life together and in the last decade when the band
reunited, thrive on sitting in his seat behind that big B3, filled
with life and, yes, a new maturity, passion for his job, his family
and his home in the brother and sisterhood of our band.

Finally, I watched him fight his cancer without complaint and with
great courage and spirit. When I asked him how things looked, he just
said, "what are you going to do? I'm looking forward to tomorrow."
Danny, the sunny side up fatalist. He never gave up right to the end.

A few weeks back we ended up onstage in Indianapolis for what would be
the last time. Before we went on I asked him what he wanted to play
and he said, "Sandy." He wanted to strap on the accordion and revisit
the boardwalk of our youth during the summer nights when we'd walk
along the boards with all the time in the world.

So what if we just smashed into three parked cars, it's a beautiful
night! So what if we're on the lam from the entire Middletown police
department, let's go take a swim! He wanted to play once more the song
that is of course about the end of something wonderful and the
beginning of something unknown and new.

Let's go back to the days of miracles. Pete Townshend said, "a rock
and roll band is a crazy thing. You meet some people when you're a kid
and unlike any other occupation in the whole world, you're stuck with
them your whole life no matter who they are or what crazy things they
do."

If we didn't play together, the E Street Band at this point would
probably not know one another. We wouldn't be in this room together.
But we do... We do play together. And every night at 8 p.m., we walk
out on stage together and that, my friends, is a place where miracles
occur...old and new miracles. And those you are with, in the presence
of miracles, you never forget. Life does not separate you. Death does
not separate you. Those you are with who create miracles for you, like
Danny did for me every night, you are honored to be amongst.

Of course we all grow up and we know "it's only rock and roll"...but
it's not. After a lifetime of watching a man perform his miracle for
you, night after night, it feels an awful lot like love.

So today, making another one of his mysterious exits, we say farewell
to Danny, "Phantom" Dan, Federici. Father, husband, my brother, my
friend, my mystery, my thorn, my rose, my keyboard player, my miracle
man and lifelong member in good standing of the house rockin', pants
droppin', earth shockin', hard rockin', booty shakin', love makin',
heart breakin', soul cryin'... and, yes, death defyin' legendary E
Street Band.

Bruce Springsteen

From TampaBay.com:

LIVE REVIEW: Bruce Springsteen

Springsteen and Steve Van Zandt perform at the St. Pete
Times Forum Tuesday night. [CHRIS ZUPPA | Times]

TAMPA –- Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band just don't lose fights to Father Time. For four decades, it’s always been a mismatch. From epic concerts that rumbled on with disregard for deadlines to thunderous anthems about thumbing your nose at destiny, the Jersey-born brotherhood is inherently built to push, and punish, the boundaries of the clock.

But last week, Father Time -- with his tin ear for the youthful urges of rock ’n’ roll -- landed a suckerpunch, as longtime E Street stalwart Danny Federici, 58, died from melanoma. As well as being the group’s organist, keyboardist and accordion whiz, Federici had been friends with Springsteen for 40 years. Bruce called his pal “the Phantom,” quiet, crafty, cunning.

On Tuesday, at the St. Pete Times Forum, the Boss and his band, who postponed three Florida dates to deal with the loss, staged their first show since Federici’s death. (The Tampa night was originally scheduled for Monday.)

But if you thought the Blue-Collar Bard would respond with a long, sad see-ya-later – no way, not a chance. For more than two-and-a-half hours, they rocked and remembered in front of 16,332 faithful fans fully aware of the emotional undercurrent.

With house and stage lights dark, the band took the stage, familiar shadows walking to the well-worn spots they've worked for years. "This night is a special one," said the somber voice of the Boss. "So we'd like to start with something for Danny."

With that, a video tribute unspooled onscreen, as a recorded version of gentle acoustic homage "Blood Brothers" played. With a spotlight illuminating Danny's workplace, the band then launched into a crescendoing, cathartic "Backstreets," with its notable refrain of "You swore we'd live forever."

That's the way this memorable night went, the wistful giving way to the robust. Springsteen referenced Federici several times, including "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)," which was always Federici's time to shine on the accordion. On this night, piano man Roy Bittan took the squeezebox, as a bemused Springsteen noted, "Somebody's watching." That was followed by what Springsteen called "another fairy tale," the jubilant "Growin' Up."

For all the emotion, the night's most memorable songs were the roof-raisers, the throwdowns, songs in which your pounding fist acted almost independently: "Radio Nowhere" and "Gypsy Biker," from 2007 album "Magic." "Because the Night," with its downright fiendish guitar solo from Nils Lofgren. The tent-revival fun of "She's the One." The defiant blasts of "No Surrender" and "Long Walk Home."

Springsteen, always eager to ruffle the lapels of the proverbial powers-that-be, kept the speechifying to a minium. But after a quick tsk-tsk to the Bush administration, he threaded a series of songs about the shaky state of the union: "Livin' in the Future," "The Promised Land," "Waitin' on a Sunny Day."

The set built to a resounding, resilient wallop, especially fan fave "Badlands," in which the Big Man, Clarence Clemons, hobbled to the forefront and blew a big, fat sax solo that jolted the joint. That was followed by the chiming joy of "Out in the Street" with its chorus of guttural wahoos.

"This one's for Dan," Springsteen said at the start of the encore, as the band roots-rocked an acoustic cover of 1929 gospel hymn "I'll Fly Away" ("Some bright morning when this life is over, I'll fly away.")

As part of this tour, Springsteen has been reaching into the crowd each night and grabbing random signs with song requests. Tampa just about blew its top for tonight's winner: "Rosalita." The rambling, rollicking song, considered by many the queen in the canon, showcased a band still intent on raging into the night. And, well, they did. "Rosalita" eventually morphed into "Born to Run," for which the house lights exploded for an all-together-now singalong. And that turned into "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out." And they just kept playing, hard, fast, ferocious, as if they had all the time in the world.

From Backstreets.com:
APRIL 22, TAMPA: "BETTER GET THIS RIGHT.... SOMEBODY'S WATCHING"

And the show goes on. Eight days after their last performance, five days after the passing of Danny Federici, and just one day after the funeral service, Bruce and the E Street Band took the stage in Tampa. There was no question that they'd be honoring Danny's memory tonight. The real question might have been, how would they do it? The answer: by acknowledging the magnitude of the loss, by embracing Danny's contributions to the band, by tapping a deep well of emotion and playing their hearts out all night.

The night began with a film montage. Bruce and the E Streeters came out and turned to watch the screen behind Max's drums, standing stone-still as archival footage and stills from Danny's life (remember that long, flowing hair?) played out across it, set to "Blood Brothers." Patti was there, too, for her first show since 2007 -- the E Street Band out in full force. A spotlight, meanwhile, lit up Danny's organ riser (where his accordion was propped, too), and remained shining on the empty station for the band's first song of the night, "Backstreets." Bruce gave a raw and emtional howl at the end, and as he pointed to the organ, the light faded.

After the poignant opening, Charlie Giordano came out to join the band from "Radio Nowhere" on, remaining as subtle and discreet as you could possibly imagine on this night, while doing his job and doing it well. But emotional -- even emotionally draining -- as it was, it wasn't a somber occasion. This was an intense performance, with each member of the band electrified. Solos -- Max on "Badlands," Steve on "Gypsy Biker," Roy on "Racing in the Street" (yes, they did "Racing,") Nils on "Because the Night" -- burned even brighter. And Bruce himself put it all out there, starting with a thematic setlist clearly tailored to recall Federici's place in this band of brothers and the impact of his musicianship on Springsteen's work.

After "Gypsy Biker," Charlie moved over to the piano as Roy strapped on the accordion for "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)." "We want to thank you for all your prayers and condolences," Springseen told the crowd. "Roy, you better get this right -- somebody's watching." Soozie and Patti offered beautiful harmonies, and it was a magical performance of "Sandy." Bruce wiped away tears and gave Roy a kiss. "One more fairy tale," he said, leading the band into "Growin' Up." That song recalled the old days in more ways than one, as Bruce began a little story during the instrumental break with that familiar phrase, "There we were..."

"There we were, on the highest hill in Flemington, New Jersey... It was a sunny, hot summer morning... and the preacher said... 'I took month-long vacations in the stratosphere...'"

"Thank you so much for coming out tonight and helping us through," Bruce said as they came out for the encore. And he wasn't just talkin': the crowd -- unusually full for a postponed show -- was there at every turn, giving the energy back on sing-alongs like "Badlands," "Out in the Street," and "Waitin' on a Sunny Day." For the first encore song, Bruce pulled out the premiere of an old gospel standby, "I'll Fly Away." This one went out to Danny, of course, and everyone came down front -- even Max, on tambourine -- for a rousing rendition with a Seeger Sessions feel. Bruce called it "New Jersey bluegrass."

A few songs later, "Spirit in the Night" was setlisted, but Bruce chose to replace it with one of the only unplanned songs of the night -- "Tenth Avenue Freeze-out." It was a fine choice, recalling the formation of the legendary band that Danny Federici was a part of from the beginning, its lyrics equal parts exasperation, determination, and celebration. Teardrops on the city, yes... and tonight they busted it in half for Danny.

Setlist:
Backstreets
Radio Nowhere
Lonesome Day
No Surrender
Gypsy Biker
4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)
Growin' Up
Atlantic City
Because the Night
Darkness on the Edge of Town
She's the One
Livin' in the Future
The Promised Land
Waitin' on a Sunny Day
Brilliant Disguise
Racing in the Street
The Rising
Last to Die
Long Walk Home
Badlands
Out in the Street
* * *
I'll Fly Away
Rosalita
Born to Run
Tenth Avenue Freeze-out
American Land

Tribune photo by KELVIN MA

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band played their first show since the death Thursday
of longtime keyboardist Danny Federici, Tuesday at the St. Pete Times Forum.

Springsteen, Band Find Tonic To Tragedy
By CURTIS ROSS
The Tampa Tribune

TAMPA - Somewhere, Danny is smiling.

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band played their first show since the death Thursday of longtime keyboardist Danny Federici, Tuesday at the St. Pete Times Forum. If Springsteen generally plays as if his life depends on it, Tuesday night he played as if his soul and those of everyone in the arena were at stake.

The show began with a video tribute to Federici, who played with Springsteen for 40 years, beginning in pre-E Street outfits such as Steel Mill.

Then, as pianist Roy Bittan played the introduction to "Backstreets," a spotlight shone on an unmanned Hammond organ and accordion, Federici's instruments, a silent expression of the band's loss.

The rest of those expressions were anything but quiet.

Springsteen howled the chorus of "Backstreets" with as much passion as he did in 1975. Max Weinberg pounded his kit so hard it seemed close to tumbling - or disintegrating. The whole band played with an intensity that seemed impossible to sustain for the length of the show.

But they did.

Springsteen and band stormed through the early part of the set with no let-up. Weinberg kept the pulse going as guitars were swapped between songs. "No Surrender" was especially moving, with guitarist Steve Van Zandt joining Springsteen at the microphone. The two ended "Gypsy Biker" with a stinging guitar duel.

Finally pausing, Springsteen offered thanks for "prayers and condolences for Danny," then told the band, "We better get this right. Somebody's watching."

With Bittan on accordion, they launched into the sad, sweet "Sandy (Fourth of July Asbury Park)," evoking the early days of Springsteen's and Federici's musical life playing clubs along the New Jersey shore.

Springsteen told the crowd of 16,332 that the song's fortuneteller, Madame Marie, might be a Florida resident now. Then, he announced, "one more fairy tale," and delivered "Growin' Up" with more youthful vigor than a man on the downside of 50 should have.

There were so many highlights - "Atlantic City," "Because the Night," "She's the One" - but the show's emotional centerpiece came with the pairing of "Racing in the Street" and "The Rising."

The former song is one of Springsteen's most desolate, the cold flipside to "Born to Run," about finding out you're not that young anymore and maybe there's nowhere to run.

The song is so devastating as to make any attempt at levity seem a lie. "The Rising," then, was the perfect tonic, a song about demanding life - joy, even - in the face of tragedy. If every song seemed to have special resonance given the circumstances, this one may have had the most of all.

The encore began with a stirring rendition of the gospel hymn "I'll Fly Away," followed by "Rosalita," "Born to Run" and "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out," a trio guaranteed to send any Bruce fan into spasms of sheer joy.

Via RMAS: What a great tribute to Danny. If I was there hearing them play "I'll Fly Away," I'd be biting the inside of my mouth to keep from crying, and I doubt that would work.
Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band
Tampa, Florida 4/22/08

Blood Brothers (as a video tribute - band watches rather than play)
1. Backstreets
2. Radio Nowhere
3. Lonesome Day
4. No Surrender
5. Gypsy Biker

Remarks by Bruce about Danny

6. 4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)
7. Growin Up
8. Atlantic City
9. Because the Night
10. Darkness on the Edge of Town
11. She's The One
12. Livin In the Future
13. The Promised Land
14. Waiting on a Sunny Day
15. Brilliant Disguise
16. Racing in the Streets
17. The Rising
18. Last To Die
19. Long Walk Home
20. Badlands
21. Out in the Street

22. I'll Fly Away (Garry on stand up bass, Max on tambourine, Roy on
accordion )
23. Rosalita
24. Born to Run
25. 10th Avenue Freezeout
26. American Land

(All stolen from whatver boards are reporting. Please take with a grain of
salt.)

From New York Daily News:
Danny Federici eulogies replay glory days
of Springsteen & E Street Band
By DAVID HINCKLEY
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER

It didn't take any words, just the opening chords of "Fourth of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)" to tell Bruce Springsteen fans they'd come to the right place to remember their friend Danny Federici.

The right place Saturday night was WFUV (90.7 FM), where Vin Scelsa played the live 1975 London version of "Sandy," other songs, and talked about 35 years of music and musicians.

The right place Sunday afternoon was Sirius, where Dave Marsh played "Sandy" and some other songs, and then talked to fellow fans for two hours.

No moment on radio is more powerful than one than draws people together in moments of pleasure, sorrow, or, in cases like this, both.

Federici, who died Thursday, had been a member of Springsteen's bands for longer than anyone else. So even though he never sang a song, his death hit hard.

"With this band more than any other, fans identified with all the guys," says Scelsa. "It's that Everyman thing."

Most radio stations noted Federici's death. On classic rock WAXQ (104.3 FM), almost every host talked about him and played music for him.

But what a lot of fans really wanted was calling hours on the radio - a bloc of time to gather and remember Federici, and what the music he helped make has meant to them. How his accordion and organ propelled Springsteen songs from "Kitty's Back" and "Wild Billy's Circus Story" through "Ramrod" and "Glory Days."

Without Federici, "Sandy" as we know it would not exist.

"That London recording is beautiful," says Scelsa. "It so completely captures the early force of Springsteen mania."

Scelsa remembers Federici at the Bottom Line in 1975, "where you had all those guys in pimp suits ... and suddenly he steps forward and there's this quiet moment with just him and Bruce. I can still remember being profoundly moved by it."

Marsh's show Sunday was more raw, as he and the callers walked an emotional edge. He told stories about Danny teaching Max Weinberg the ropes of working with Bruce, but mostly the show was about loss and healing.

Both shows were intense and recalled moments in radio's past - like WNEW-FM the night John Lennon died, or Hot-97 after the deaths of Tupac and Biggie Smalls.

"It's something I wanted to do," said Marsh. "It's something we needed to do."

It's also something commercial radio is increasingly less likely to do.

"Radio has changed since the time of Lennon's death," says Scelsa. "Smaller stations, noncommercial stations, they can still do it. But big commercial stations don't want to risk turning off the nonfans.

"Someday Bob Dylan will pass away, and who will do this for him? Maybe someone. But I just don't know."

From Asbury Park Press:
Joy, sadness on E Street with band in mourning
By NANCY SHIELDS
COASTAL MONMOUTH BUREAU

Anyone wishing to donate to research in Federici's name may visit

www.thedannyfedericimelanomafund.com

Bruce Springsteen and E Street Band members gathered Monday with family and friends of Danny Federici to mourn but also celebrate the life of their longtime band mate, who died from melanoma in New York City on Thursday.

The service, held at the United Methodist Church on Broad Street, was described by a participant in the E Street circle as sad yet joyful, with humor and grace, as stories were related about the keyboard and accordion player who worked with Springsteen for 40 years. Actor Tim Robbins also attended.

Federici, 58, had been diagnosed with melanoma about three years ago.

One of the messages of the service was to get people to take precautions about melanoma and, if wishing to donate to research in Federici's name, to visit thedannyfedericimelanomafund.com on the Web.

Federici, described by Springsteen as "one of the pillars of our sound," took a leave of absence from the E Street Band's Magic Tour in November to get treatment.

On March 20, he made a surprise appearance at a performance in Indianapolis. It was to be his last.

According to the Web site, Federici particularly enjoyed time with his family — his wife Maya, son Jason and daughters Harley and Madison.

"He also loves a good drive down the Delaware River's beautiful roads," the site said.

Federici recorded a solo jazz album, called "Flemington" after his hometown, in the 1990s and another album called "Out of a Dream" in 2005.

Locally, a public memorial will be held from 6 to 10 p.m. Wednesday at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park.

RIP Danny Federici (1950-2008)

From handmethesportspage.com:
Sound of E Street Silenced

By: Kyle Pucciarello

Posted: April 21st, 2008

No matter how you break it down, last Thursday was a very difficult day for the many fans of Bruce Springsteen.

A band lost one of its founding members – a “blood brother.” An entire state lost a hero. An entire nation lost a gifted musician. Hell, the entire world did.

“Phantom” Dan Federici lost his three year battle with melanoma Thursday at the age of 58.

“Danny and I worked together for 40 years,” Springsteen said. “He was the most wonderfully fluid keyboard player and a pure natural musician. I loved him very much.”

Springsteen certainly wasn’t alone in his love for Federici. Anyone who has ever heard “4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy),” “Kitty’s Back,” “Hungry Heart,” “Fade Away,” or the hundreds of other Springsteen songs made even more brilliant by Federici’s brilliant organ playing was certainly at a loss upon hearing the news of his death.

It’s funny how someone who you don’t really even know can mean so much. They can mean so much that they, in fact, seem like a member of the family.

Few celebrities are really able to penetrate that fourth wall of celebrity. Broadcasters like Phil Rizzuto or Harry Caray had such a down-to-earth, folksy style that they seemed to become the crazy, storytelling uncle in the next room. Every afternoon we’d turn on the radio or television and listen to Uncle Phil describe in detail his latest helping of linguini while, “Oh, by the way,” mention that Don Mattingly just drove in two runs on a double off the right field wall.

Danny Federici was one of those celebrities. It’s evident even in how you refer to him. He’s not Mr. Federici. He’s not even Dan. He was always, quite simply, Danny.

Everyone in the E Street Band, really, seems like a member of a giant community – the community of Bruce Springsteen.

Don’t laugh – it’s about as strong a community as exists in a country currently in need of many more.

You can’t talk about Danny without mentioning the rest of the E Street Band – it’s a package deal. One is as integral to the music as the other. Be it Clarence Clemons’ soulful saxophone, Roy Bittan’s beautiful piano, Max Weinberg’s pounding drums, Gary Tallent’s steady bass, Nils Lofgren’s impossibly good guitar, Soozie Tyrell’s violin, Patti Scialfa’s distinctive vocals, or Little Steven just being Little Steven, the E Street Band has been a force existing on the brotherhood and power of music for close to 40 years.

And for those 40 years, fans have purchased CDs and attended concerts as if it were necessary to living their lives. The music is that powerful. The band and what it stands for is even more significant.

That’s why Federici’s death is so difficult. It’s not just the silencing of a great musician but the end of this community as we’ve always known it. It’s the first casualty of this family.

Sometimes, while watching some of the epic shows these people have put on over the years, you forget that they are human after all.

It’s a lesson in mortality – our own as well.

I had the pleasure of meeting Danny twice. In November 2002 he played a jazzy show at his former high school in Flemington, NJ. After a brilliant evening of music, Federici sat in the hallway and signed autographs for fans. There I was, 16-years old and sporting a Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band t-shirt, about to meet one of the people whose music was helping me through adolescence.

Federici was extremely generous, signing a copy of his CD and even putting his arm around me while my mother snapped a picture. He made a 16-year old kid glow for the next few days.

The memory of it makes that same kid, a few years older, smile again.

The second meeting was slightly different. Danny’s latest solo effort, “Out of a Dream,” had just been released and he was doing a signing at the great Vintage Vinyl in Fords, NJ. I was extremely excited to meet Danny once again except, to my dismay, I had to work!

My mother, her favorite E Streeter always having been Danny, went to see him without me. I sat at work, needless to say, less than thrilled.

During my break at work I was told that I had a phone call. I picked up the phone:
“Hello?”
- Is this Kyle?
“Yes” (a little confused)
- This is Danny. How are you?

I don’t really remember what I said after that, I just couldn’t believe that a man of his stature in the history of music would take the time to call up one of his fans. But, sure enough, he was on the other end of the phone.

We talked for about five minutes, everything from the legendary Atlantic City show he and the rest of the E Street Band played in March 2003 to tips on becoming a successful musician.

“Just keep playing, playing, playing,” he told me. “Get out there. Get yourself heard. Somebody will listen.”

That’s advice that, as I continue to write and perform my own music, has become as relevant as any I may ever receive.

Danny Federici has been part of the soundtrack of the past 10 years of my life. His ability to capture the nuances of Bruce Springsteen’s vision has been an inspiration for me as a musician.

Without him, without Bruce and the band as a whole, who knows where I’d be? Who knows where any of the millions of people he touched would be?

When someone you care for deeply passes on, one of the traditional things to do is celebrate the person’s life in a place of worship, where the healing begins.

That’s exactly what I’ll be doing – attending the church of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

On November 19th, 2007 in Boston, I made the spiritual connection with this group of healers for the 51st time in my 22 years. It was one of the greatest shows that I’ve seen, featuring Danny almost exclusively all evening on “Sandy,” “The E Street Shuffle,” “10th Avenue Freeze Out,” and newer songs like “Livin’ in the Future” and “American Land.”

At the end of the show the band came to the front of the stage and bowed like they always did, except, for some reason, Bruce had brought Danny to the center of the stage with him.

For the next two minutes the entire arena began chanting “Danny! Danny!” with great reverence. Something wasn’t right. Bruce Springsteen was tearing up. I was tearing up.

As it turned out, this was the last full show with Danny at his Hammond B3 organ. The next day it was announced that Federici would be taking a leave of absence to treat his cancer.

I can only feel blessed that I was among the few people lucky enough to have been a part of the community that night. I will never forget it, or the long walk I took after the show thinking about what I had just seen.

We may have lost a member of that sacred community, but it is the power of that same community that will be able to come together and keep the spirit of “The Phantom” alive. The band will keep it alive in the music. We will keep it alive in our connection to the music.

Now more than ever we need this connection.

Let the healing begin.

Danny Federici
Accordion and keyboard player
in Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band

Richard Williams
Monday April 21, 2008
The Guardian

Every band has a member known as "the quiet one", a musician who chooses not to share the limelight and thus runs the risk of being overlooked when the plaudits are distributed. Danny Federici, who has died of melanoma aged 58, was so quiet that his employer, Bruce Springsteen, often introduced him as the Phantom, or Phantom Dan. But Springsteen, like all hard-core fans of the E Street Band, knew that his fellow New Jerseyite made a vital contribution to their success during a collaboration that lasted almost 40 years.

Federici played the accordion part that so memorably coloured the song Fourth of July, Asbury Park (Sandy), a highlight of Springsteen's second album, The Wild, the Innocent & the E Street Shuffle, in 1974. His rampaging Hammond organ solo provided the climax to Kitty's Back when the band arrived in London the following year, by which time his use of a keyboard-operated glockenspiel had added a special piquancy to the arrangement of Born to Run, the song that would become Springsteen's signature tune. And to Hungry Heart, one of the leader's best loved songs, Federici added an organ solo so perfectly melodic and appropriate to the spirit of the piece - an ineffable mixture of exultation and sorrow - that it is engraved on every fan's heart.

Federici's membership of the band, which ceased operations in 1988, reformed for a year in 1999, came together again for a Vote for Change tour (an attempt to stave off the re-election of George Bush) in 2004 and reconvened again last year, was finally disrupted by the onset of skin cancer three years ago. When the band visited Europe last Christmas, the organ bench was occupied by Charlie Giordano, who had performed with Springsteen on the Seeger Sessions tour a year earlier. Speaking of a change he hoped would be temporary, Springsteen described Federici as "one of the pillars of our sound". It was the finest of tributes that Giordano performed his predecessor's parts to the last note.

After lengthy treatment, Federici returned to play a single show at the Conseco Fieldhouse in Indianapolis on March 20, when Kitty's Back, Spirit in the Night and other old favourites were included. Announcing his death last week, Springsteen said: "He was the most wonderfully fluid keyboard player and a pure, natural musician. I loved him very much."

Born in Flemington, New Jersey, Federici started to learn the accordion at the age of seven, was soon performing polkas on local radio shows, and was still in his teens when he made his way to the thriving boardwalk clubs of Asbury Park, where he hooked up with Springsteen in 1969. Having made his first recording with a local singer named Bill Chinook, whose sidemen included the bass guitarist Garry W Tallent and the drummer Vini Lopez, two future E Streeters, he and Lopez formed their own heavy metal band, Child, and invited Springsteen - "a skinny guy with long hair and a ratty T-shirt" but "an incredible guitar player and a good singer," in Federici's recollection - to join them.

By 1970, in order to avoid confusion with another local band, they had changed their name to Steel Mill and were receiving complimentary reviews for shows in San Francisco, with a repertoire broadened to include songs by Bob Dylan and Muddy Waters. They played their last gig in Asbury Park in February 1971, after which Springsteen formed his own group, at first known as Dr Zoom and the Sonic Boom, in which Lopez and Tallent were joined by guitarist Steve Van Zandt and pianist David Sancious, who displaced Federici.

Although Federici played no part in the recording of Greetings from Asbury Park, NJ, Springsteen's first album, he was back for the tours that accompanied the album's release in 1973, and for the sessions that produced its sequel. By the time they recorded Born to Run, the approach of the E Street Band had coalesced around Max Weinberg's thunderously upright drumming, Tallent's solid bass, the rhapsodically arpeggiated piano decorations of Roy Bittan (replacing Sancious, with whom Federici had a poor relationship), Clarence Clemons' R&B-drenched saxophone and Van Zandt's flamboyant presence. But no single contribution was more fundamental than that of Federici on the Hammond B3, with which he evoked the sound of soul music, and the glockenspiel, whose tintinnabulations recalled the teenaged innocence of Phil Spector's hits with the Crystals and the Ronettes.

During the lengthy periods when the E Street Band was out of commission, Federici remained active in the recording studios. He accompanied Joan Armatrading, Graham Parker, Garland Jeffreys and Gary US Bonds, and recorded two solo albums of jazz instrumentals: Flemington (1997) and Sweet (2005). After his illness was diagnosed he set up the Danny Federici Melanoma Fund to raise money for research at the Sloan-Kettering hospital in New York City, where he died. He is survived by his wife, Maya, a son and two daughters.

· Daniel Paul Federici, musician, born January 23 1950; died April 17 2008

From Backstreets Forum:
Jackson Browne honors Danny

I got this e-mail from my friend and wanted to share it...

I went to the Jackson Browne Solo Acoustic concert in Santa Cruz on April 19th. The seats were 3rd row center and with the venue being so intimate, the seats were that much more extraordinary. It was my birthday present to myself and I shared the evening with my best friend's two oldest sons, the perfect gentlemen! During the show, people kept yelling out songs they wanted to hear Jackson play and anyone who has heard his solo acoustic albums or seen these shows knows he
hears the requests and sometimes will play them.

This night he was in a mood that wasn't upbeat; rather, he was dark, and his song selections mirrored his feelings. My friend suggested before the show that if I get the opportunity to yell something out I should ask him to play a song for Danny. What a great idea; rather than play something that I want to hear, play something for a lost contemporary, and it is his choice of song to honor him with.

I got the opportunity while he sat at his piano directly in front of us just before the intermission and said "How about playing a song for Danny Federici?". He stopped whatever song he was preparing for and the expression on his face changed. It looked as if it went from whatever he was thinking about playing to realizing what I said. He then looked right at me with sad eyes, and with a somber tone in his voice he said, "Yeah", shaking his head.

Not saying a word after that, he started changing things on his piano and you could tell he was thinking about what to play. When he was ready, he spoke into his microphone and said, "someone from the audience just requested I play a song for Danny Federici". The audience then applauded. He then played 'Don't You Want To Be There'. It was a beautiful song to sing for Danny.

Here are the lyrics to "Don't You Want To Be There"

Don't you want to be there, don't you want to go?
Where the light is breaking and the cold clear winds blow
Don't you want to be there in the golden glow

Don't you want to be there, don't you want to fly?
With your arms out, let a shout take you across the sky
Don't you want to be there when the time's gone by

Times there was love all around you
Times you were strong and alone
Times you believed love had found you
And you fell through time like a stone

And those you have wronged, you know
You need to let them know some way
And those who have wronged you, know
You'll have to let them go someday

Don't you want to be there?
Don't you want to cry when you see how far
You've got to go to be where forgiveness rules
Instead of where you are

Don't you want to be there, don't you want to know?
Where the grace and simple truth of childhood go
Don't you want to be there when the trumpets blow

Blow for those born into hunger
Blow for those lost 'neath the train
Blow for those choking in anger
Blow for those driven insane

And those you have wronged, you know
You need to let them know some way
And those who have wronged you, know
You'll have to let them go someday

Don't you want to be there?
Don't you want to see where the angels appear
Don't you want to be where there's strength and love
In the place of fear

From Freeopeds.com:
Say thank you while you have the chance
By Daniel B. Kline

A few weeks ago keyboard player Danny Federici joined his longtime bandmates Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band on stage in Indianapolis for a few songs. The crowd that evening – at least the part that knew what it was seeing welcomed the surprise appearance with the raucous cheers befitting a family member who had been sidelined for months while battling melanoma.

As a fan of the band who has seen them play together many times, I teared up a little in my car when I heard the news of Federici’s return. I’ve never met the man and would probably walk by him at the mall without recognizing him, but onstage he was part of something bigger than himself — something that brought joy to me and so many others.

Federici had started the tour with his old friends in the legendary band, but had taken a leave of absence to fight his cancer. That night in Indianapolis, as appreciation and love rained down, it appeared the keyboard player had found his road back and would soon be healthy enough to take his rightful place behind Springsteen on a regular basis.

On April 18, less than a month after that show, Federici passed away at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York.

To start what turned out to be Federici’s last appearance with the group that night in Indianapolis, Bruce and the band launched into “The Promised Land,” a song full of hope amid darkness that seemed especially appropriate. Finding hope where none seems possible has been a recurring theme in Springteen’s work. The message maybe meant a little more that night as it was one of their own making his way through the darkness and finding his way back.

Federici was never the star of the show. He wasn’t even one of the more colorful personalities in a band that features “Sopranos” star “Little” Steven Van Zandt, the sax-wielding Clarence Clemons and Conan O'Brien’s bandleader, Max Weinberg, alongside the legendary “Boss.”

What Federici was, however, was one of those guys whose contributions you notice more when he’s gone than when he was there. Those people generally don’t get standing ovations and it’s rare that anyone even says thank you to them, but you miss them when they’re gone.

In a way, Federici was the guy at your corner donut shop who makes your coffee exactly the way you like it without you having to ask. At first you thank him each time, but eventually the transaction simply occurs with maybe a nod of the head and eventually you do nothing until one day he’s not there and your drink never tastes quite right again.

The loss of Federici makes me think a little bit about all the people who matter – who would be missed – but never get told. I hope on that night in Indianapolis the cheers were loud enough that Danny knew what he meant to so many people and that the outpouring of love made his last few weeks a little easier.

It still makes me cry to think that during that show, which so many fans took as a sign of his imminent recovery, that maybe Federici knew he was never coming back. Maybe he knew that this would be his last time on stage with his friends, playing to a crowd who loved him, and maybe he was okay with his fate as long as he got to be up on stage one more time.

Daniel B. Kline’s work appears in over 100 papers weekly. His new book, a collection of columns, Easy Answers to Every Problem, can be ordered at Amazon.com or Barnesandnoble.com. Daniel B. Kline can be reached at dan@notastep.com.

From michaelschey.blogspot.com:
Danny Federici - Everybody Has One
By Michael Schey

Everybody has one. Everybody, every company, every organization has the person you don't always notice. The person that blends into the background when the main event occurs but who is nonetheless totally essential for getting the job done. While all the craziness is happening in the front room, Mr Dependable is in the back, making sure the lights stay on and when things get messed up he is there with the fix. Danny Federici was this person in the E Street Band. From the very beginning when he and Vini Lopez asked the young NJ Shore guitar slinger to join him in the band Child, his organ playing was an essential part of the background of almost everything Bruce Springsteen did. From that moment on, a friendship was formed that would last until his untimely death yesterday afternoon.

Everybody has one. Every quarterback has that front line that must hold the hounds at bay in order to be successful. Bruce has the ESB and part of the core sound of the band was the keyboard (mainly organ) playing of Danny. His swirling Hammond sounds, played in conjunction with Roy Bittan's (and previously David Sancious's) piano playing laid the foundation for the music. Listen to the introductions of songs like Spirit In The Night or Darkness On The Edge Of Town. It it Danny's organ that starts things off, even if only for a brief moment until Roy or the rest of the band come in. And it is in other songs, like the organ solo in the Darkness tour version of Prove It All Night, or the organ coming in during that critical moment of Jungleland when Bruce sings "....from the churches to the jails tonight all is silence in the world" and when you really think about how the song it structured it may be one of the most important parts of the song because it provides the transition point to the song starting to rock out and it is Danny's organ that provides the musical spark, the ignition, that allows the song to achieve the next level, one of greatness.

Everybody has one. Every band has the guy that hangs out in the back, plays his music and does his job, and while things may be out of control at the front of the stage that person plays their music and keeps everything grounded. In subtle ways Danny's contribution to the ESB sound is as important as Steve's guitar solos and Max's drumming. He didn't solo much, but when he did it was memorable. Think about Kitty's Back and the keyboard solos, and his call and response with Roy, or his amazing organ coda played at the end of Your Missing on The Rising tour. I know people who were in tears during that song, tears that came gushing out DURING the coda and not before, because the beauty of the coda brought out the meaning of the song. And then there is the coda of Racing In The Street, a true tribute to the entire E Street Band. But, it is Danny's organ that starts it before Roy's piano takes over, and while it IS Roy's piano that is the lead instrument what is arguably one of the 5-10 most beautiful pieces of music the ESB has ever performed, it is Danny's organ underneath it all that builds and swirls and allows the band to get to that music crescendo at the very end.

Everybody has one. Now you see him, now you don't. Bruce nicknamed him The Phantom, and while the rumor is that it had to do with an incident in Asbury Park and something to do with a police chase, Bruce often referred to him this way because he was always there but nobody could find him. He was such a big part of the background sound of the band that it was always assumed he would be there. He never took the spotlight. He never left his little corner of the stage except when he took out the accordion for songs such as Sandy or most recently, American Land. He didn't have to, he didn't want to. He did his job, just like a good soldier does. He never complained and always marched forward. I remember one show on the Reunion tour. We were off to the side of the stage with a great view of Danny. He was having some problems with some pedals and some of the tech guys were crawling all over the place around him, plugging things in and out, replacing equipment, while the band played on and Danny continued to do his job like nothing was wrong. Finally, the techs got the pedals fixed and Danny shifted his feet and we could see him play a few things with the pedals and give the techs a nod and kept on going. That was him, Mr Reliable.

Danny will be missed more than people realize. He was more than just the organ player. He was the organ player that kept his job for over 30 years, and that says a lot. Bruce and the ESB will carry on, albeit with a little mixed emotion in the beginning. As a unit, it is a remarkable feat that this is their first loss EVER in the history of the band. They are more than a band, but one large extended family of band mates, spouses, kids, etc. It will be hard for them at first, but they are professionals and they know that they have a job to do, a job that they do as well or better than anybody in the business today. The show will go on as they say, but this band will always have a hole in their heart when they think of their blood brother that is no longer with them on that stage. Be well Danny. Rest in peace.

May his memory be for a blessing.

From Gather.com:
Danny Federici:
Pillar of Springsteen Sound Stood the Test of Time
by Mike Cole

April 20, 2008

---

I was 15 when "Born to Run" came out, and first fell in love with the sound of E Street. I didn't know Phil Spector from a hole in the wall -- I didn't even know there were two previous Springsteen albums -- I just knew that epic ballads like "Backstreets" soothed my bruised teenage heart. "Jungleland" was my other immediate favorite, it was later that "Thunder Road" and "Born To Run" sank in. Sure, Bruce was the man, but there was this other bunch of guys behind him -- cool guys like Miami Steve, and Clarence -- but also regular guys like Max, Garry, Roy, and Danny.

Danny played the organ, by far the least cool instrument in the band, but he laid down a foundation of sound that masterpieces were built on. In his hands even the accordion gained a level of rock cred. Danny just came to play, and wound up punching a ticket with a band that became a global sensation. he may have been the least known member of E Street which is ironic since he was so vital to Bruce in the early years. It was Danny who originally asked Bruce to join his band, not the other way around.

Danny died last week at the age of 58. Melanoma. He had taken leave of the band last November for treatment, but managed to play a show back in March in Indianapolis. The new songs from "Magic" let his Hammond B-3 organ ring out loud and proud. When Bruce pulled up songs from the Jersey Shore days, it seemed like Danny's organ was pumping out popcorn and sun tan lotion too. His sound was so much like summer, bright with promise, but wise to the fleeting nature of the season. Never silly. Always grounded.

My son was standing next to me when Springsteen played the TD Banknorth Garden last November. At 18 he has a much more well balanced musical perspective than I had at his age, and he has an appreciation for what Springsteen is all about. I wanted him to see E Street in all its glory when they were at the top of their game, not some nostalgia act. He did that night. They ended that show with "American Land" from "The Seeger Sessions" and Danny and Roy Bittan strapped on accordions for the finale. It was old school, and a little hokey, but somehow felt just right.

On his website, Bruce called Danny "one of the pillars of our sound." As the band carries on that pillar will still stand tall. New hands will strike the keys, but the sound that rings out will carry Danny's spirit for all to remember. I can't think of a better tribute.
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When not soap boxing on just about anything pop culture, Mike Cole is a news producer at WCVB TV in Boston. You'll find more of my stuff on theBostonChannel.com, lok for my blog "The Mike Stand" on the Entertainment page.

http://www.thebostonchannel.com/themikestand/index.html

From LivingInStereo.com:
He Could See for Miles and Miles

Danny Alexander writes:

“It’s the sound of nature; it’s like being under dark clouds,” Bruce Springsteen tells Danny Federici in the band reunion documentary Blood Brothers. Springsteen is scratching his head, and Federici just nods. He gets it. He may already know it, and this conversation may really just be for the cameras.

Whatever’s happening in that scene, whether Springsteen is describing the thin twinkling light of Federici’s keyboards, like a low sparkle just along the horizon line, in the song they are about to play, “Blood Brothers,” I don’t know. I know it is my favorite moment in the film. I imagine that they’ve had many conversations like this, talking about sounds in terms of images, setting and effects. Federici could be whatever he needed to be.

Springsteen had many nicknames for his lifelong bandmate. One was the Phantom, and one was the Minister of Mystery. They both say a good deal about the unique role Danny Federici played in the E Street Band. Often, he all but vanished into the mix, though you would certainly miss him if he were truly gone. Other times, his organ reached for ideas when words fell short, often at those moments when the singer hit a spiritual impasse. Two moments like this jump to mind. One is when the singer challenges his dark half to try to destroy his relationship in “Two Faces”; Federici’s organ kicks up a defiant riff that gives the song some fight. At the end of “You’re Missing,” something very similar happens, when Federici’s bluesy answer offers just enough spirit to keep going. Federici’s instrument could stand for mystery, and it could stand up to the mystery with a few well placed notes; it gave you something to believe in.

But, mostly, he stayed in the background, an absolutely crucial part of the scene but not one that called attention to itself. Often, in the rockers, his keys broiled red, like embers, just under the racket. They were often the colors of fire—red, and yellow, jet blue and white, whatever colors served to accentuate the other colors on stage. In the reunion tour “Youngstown,” he’d paint a pale yellow sky between the low hanging smoke from that steel mill, offering the necessary backdrop for Nils Lofgren’s angry red guitar solo at the climax of the song. Often, his sustained notes sounded like seething placeholders, or the revving of an engine, a furnace containing the flame that would soon explode from Springsteen’s guitar when he stepped out for one of his solos.

More than any other instrument, Federici’s seemed to do its job to make sure everyone else could be the best they could be. He offered a wall of sound against which Roy Bittan could dribble his countless, intricate volleys. He seemed to offer resistance that heightened the punch of Gary Tallent’s bass and Max Weinberg’s drums. While Clarence’s horn could open “The River” with a jazzy, lonesome blues, Federici’s organ stepped in to answer the call of Springsteen’s keening at the end of the song. In “Badlands,” he’d be this bright yellow light behind the chords, offering bravura flourishes at the end of certain lines, like a cross between the Hammond B3 and slide guitar. He was always underscoring lyrics and phrases coming from other members of the band, making them shine.
As much as anything, whether accordion or calliope or a strand of sparkling light, Federici’s keys were that element in the E Street Band that gave it the smell of the boardwalk, the mystery of what might be if all of our secret dreams come true. At one point in “Mansion on the Hill,” the song all but paused for his revolving, sparkling colors caressing the visions this mansion elicited in the mind of the child. Whether he was hanging up high in the mix or improbably low, he always suggested a horizon line beyond the physical world, a horizon of our dreams.

That vision’s so powerful, it continues to call us to territory uncharted. It’s a sad time, but we can all count ourselves very lucky to have his art still with us. May our dreams do it justice.

*****

Visit the website for the Danny Federici Melanoma Fund, here.

From obriensbriarpatch.blogspot.com:
RIP - E Street Band member Danny Federici
April 17,2008

It is being reported Danny Federici, the keyboardist for The E Street Band, has passed away. He was 58.

Growing older sometimes just isn't too much fun. Without sounding over sentimental, it's kind of hard to explain what the passing of a person one doesn't really know can mean.

One great thing about music and growing up in America is being able to follow musicians over time and to listen to them grow, improve and even run off the tracks from time to time.

I remember back in high school when many music fans loved to debate about how Bruce Springsteen and his band mates were of the most under rated groups around (this was pre-Born in the USA days). I remember how back then there were just a few snippets of film of Springsteen's performances and how he didn't do many interviews.

But I also remember lying on my bed in the summer time and listening to the albums Born to Run and Darkness on the Edge of Town over and over and over again. I listened to those songs so many times it was like I sort of knew the people in them, or at the least, knew people just like them.

Oh, how Streets of Fire and Badlands and The Promised Land sounded on a car stereo cranked all the way up used to make me feel.

Of their older albums, I especially liked looking at the pictures in the liner notes of these young, hungry looking musicians and envying what it must be like to be good, know it and just on the edge of breaking out.

Then came Born In the USA and the explosion of Springsteen onto American culture. Sure, many are going to go on about how he and his band mates are overrated, but I'm not here to convert them (the only thing about that is I do feel for you that you just didn't catch on - it's your loss).

But to watch these people doing something they obviously relished and loved was a treat for all of us.

The first visual memory my mind pictures of Danny Federici is of him on stage during the huge tours of 84 and 85 and playing his keyboard with great desire. Then it goes back to the early images of these young people and the promise of the future.

RIP Danny Federici.

From Popwatch blog at EW.com:
Remembering the E Street Band's Danny Federici
Apr 18, 2008, 04:22 PM | by Chris Willman

When I gave a fairly ecstatic review to Bruce Springsteen’s Magic last year, I made reference to how the presence of any dark or politically disturbing material on the album was emotionally mitigated by those “reassuring Danny Federici organ fills.”

In saying that, my tongue was lodged only a couple of millimeters into my cheek: Federici’s organ really did feel like a glue that held the E Street Band together, at least in those moments when they reverted to their classic sound, as they did quite a bit on Magic. And more than any other element, that particular ingredient seemed to signal that Springsteen, who'd more recently favored synthesizer sounds, was no longer afraid that resurrecting that early band alchemy would be mistaken for nostalgia.

Federici and pianist Roy Bittan came up when I talked with producer Brendan O’Brien about the album. “I think possibly one reason some of these earlier records were so keyboard oriented — I would have to assume, after working with Roy and Danny — is that those guys are very quick at picking things up," O'Brien said last fall. "Danny’s all over this record. He plays great organ, he’s just a total natural — he’s doing some great solos on it.” Little did most people, if anyone, suspect it would be his final recorded bow with the E Street Band: Federici succumbed to melanoma on Thursday, at age 58.

Federici had been in bands with Springsteen for longer than anyone in the E Street Band, having been part of the Bruce-fronted New Jersey bands Child and Steel Mill in the late '60s and early '70s. He performed through a good part of the still-ongoing Springsteen tour before bowing out in November for treatment. Fans were shocked by the announcement, but heartened when he made a return to the stage less than a month ago. Federici sat in on a March 20 show in Indianapolis for a reported eight numbers — including “Kitty’s Back,” a rarely played number from Springsteen’s second album that it’s just about impossible to imagine the E Street Band ever playing without him.

At the time of that gig, Steve Van Zandt described Federici’s seeming recovery as “miraculous,” so it’s hard to know if his bandmates really assumed the best or were just putting a good face on things. What I, for one, would consider the world's greatest ongoing rock & roll band has an irreplaceable hole. But it’s certainly heartening for fans to know that Kitty and Danny both got to come back one last time, for the road.