New Jersey's Patron Saint Charms Nashville

Waiting in the long line for a spot close to Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band yielded immediate benefits.

An hour before the doors opened, we caught pieces of the soundcheck echoing through the Sommet Center atrium, with the E Streeters running through a Sam Cooke song several times until they finally locked in step.

When they emerged to begin their epic set, there was no question that they locked it in every step of the way.

Loose, spontaneous and totally in control, Bruce and Co. grabbed the wheel, took turns even they didn't expect and only eased off the gas with their final bow after "Dancing in the Dark" closed a 45-minute encore.

With a few sections in the Sommet Center's 300 level glaringly empty, the E Streeters couldn't have come any closer to a sell out, not in Music City. The crowd more than compensated for the vacant seats. Not a verse went by without some sing-alongs, and Springsteen frequently turned the microphone over audience members in the front row.

Springsteen plucked signs song request signs from the crowd - as well as one declaring "I Love Max" - then proceeded to tear through "Good Rockin' Tonight" before telling us all about that "God damn guitar" in the middle of Greetings From Asbury Park tune "Growin' Up," in which he recounted buying his first guitar.

The more elaborate the sign, the better chance it stood with The Boss - "Girls In Their Summer Clothes" was inevitable once he grabbed one reading "Boys in Their Summer Clothes" with a picture of a younger Bruce playing baseball in 70's-era short shorts.

A few nuggets from Springsteen's non-E Street moments made the cut - the best song ever written about the collapse of the Rust Belt ("Youngstown") and the raucous fiddle tune "American Land" from the Seeger Sessions tour. He also crooned through the first few bars of "Walk the Line" to satisfy a request for a Johnny Cash tune and in honor of Joe Strummer's birthday, effortlessly bashed out The Clash's version of "I Fought the Law."

But that was the beauty. The performances felt effortless. When it didn't - the band huddling to discuss how to play some of the requests - Bruce and Co. provided moments no other band could duplicate.

In a cavernous hockey arena, they connect with their fans. Taking audience requests, shaking hands with fans bunched up against the stage railing, Bruce sitting in a lone chair at the edge of the sage for "I'm On Fire," tossing a harmonica to a kid in the crowd .... those acts make sense of all the white manes in the pit area. Across three-plus decades, Bruce's audience always comes back.

Five hours after getting in line, nearly three after the show started, our common refrain for how many songs they played was, "I lost count." With the band's relentless drive and improvised setlist, keeping pace with the E Street gang was demanding yet constantly rewarding.