Last Friday I was lucky enough to attend the first of Bruce Springsteen’s two sold-out shows at Wrigley Field. I knew I’d be going the second the shows were announced: my father is a huge Springsteen fan, and I don’t think he’s ever missed a Chicago tour stop. Because my dad was so obsessed, the Boss was my first concert, and the opening snare-drum hits and synth notes of Born in the U.S.A. (released six months before I was born) are the first sounds I can remember hearing. Growing up I was fed a steady diet of Springsteen, on record and in the stadium, and the songs I’ve grown to really appreciate are the dark, brooding ones. Tales of having nothing to live for on Darkness on the Edge of Town, stories of murderers and thieves on Nebraska—that’s the Bruce who speaks to me. He and his band have always been able to bring this intensity to the stage when they wanted to, but Friday was a different kind of show.