Shooting from the lip

Even their race – their white and black partnership in the racially-divided US – was part of their relationship’s “primal compellingness for the both of us”.

“We were incongruent, missing pieces to an old and unresolved puzzle, two longing halves of an eccentric and potent whole.”

But after 35 years side-by-side, “Clarence’s great body became still” after a massive stroke.

Springsteen mourned: “We had as deep a relationship as I can imagine… Clarence was elemental in my life and losing him was like losing the rain.”

Months later, Springsteen began searching for a new saxophonist. He sifted through many applications. And then remembered Clarence’s nephew, playing the sax at his uncle’s funeral.

“He was physically big like C. He and his brothers, to the unknowing eye, could appear to be a misplaced tribe of Maori warriors. Jake was bespectacled, sweet and soft too. Somewhere along the way, a mama had been good to him, and he carried with him the limitless sunshine that was C’s speciality on a good day.”

Springsteen then carefully assessed Jake’s skill. But not his technical ability. No, Springsteen was looking for something more.

He wrote: “Knowing the notes is easy. Any reasonable sax player can blow those notes, but understanding them – knowing what they mean, their power within the song – is what’s transformative.”

Over decades, the E-Street band had forged its music in fans’ hearts.

Now, the young Jake Clemons could play the sax. But vastly more importantly, he, like his uncle, was blessed with “the power of musical intent”. He made music with “meaning”. And why is one telling this story, on a Monday morning, in a chaotic country on the southern tip of Africa?

Because, perhaps too many of us have forgotten “the meaning” of what we do each day.

Not the technical notes, the outputs, the compliance. The “transformative” power of our contributions – if we do, what we do, with “soul”.

(Google “Bruce Springsteen You Never Can Tell”.)