That, as it turns out, was Death to my Hometown, which turns out to be appropriate given the political comment that underpins much of the song selection.
Scan down the set list and there are plenty of obvious examples from the opening American Land scattered through the set. And there are plenty more where the comment can be inferred although it has not been explicitly stated.
And halfway through the nine show run is a handy point to stop and consider some of the themes that have emerged across five shows in three cities over eleven days.
It has been a solid batch of prime, no frills Springsteen, delivered by the core, nine-piece E Street Band.
No Tom Morello means no electric Ghost of Tom Joad, and it probably explains the absence of a couple of other numbers the featured prominently over the previous two tours.
Some will have missed the horn section and the backing singers who added light and shade and brought the possibility of jazz, New Orleans and gospel elements into the mix.
So we're unlikely to see an Apollo Medley, Pay Me My Money Down, Shackled and Drawn or We Are Alive.
The reduced numbers are fairly obvious when the band lines out across the stage for American Land and Death to my Hometown.
The sixteen or seventeen-piece ensemble stretched out right across the stage, complete with sousaphone.
This time around, with Max Weinberg stuck behind the drum kit the remaining eight don't fill the space in quite the same way but they rock just as hard, possibly harder.
Fire in the belly tends to do that, and there's no shortage of fire in the belly.
And show number five underlined the variations and random nature of the concert experience.
This time, seated on the shady side of the stadium on the end of a row, the neighbour factor turned out much better, even though I only had neighbours on one side.
Having tracked down the big black self-propelled wheelchair, and paid my respects to the Queen of all Tramps, I was in my seat for most of Diesel’s opening set, and all of Jet.
The row of seats to my left remained mostly vacant except for a couple in the middle, and fill gradually until an older couple arrived to claim the fourth and fifth seats. Those arrangements were adjusted when a younger woman arrived bearing beer. The bloke moved into the third seat in the row and explained that She Who Had Arrived With Beer was their stepdaughter, who had shouted Mum and Dad their concert tickets.
She had also bought the first round.
I don't have a stepdaughter and am never likely to acquire one, but should one materialise, I'll have one just like that thank you very much.
Mum and Dad, as it turned out, were from an unspecified part of Tasmania and had frequently crossed Bass Strait to catch concerts in Melbourne.
They'd also seen Leonard Cohen in Hobart, which provided an excuse to discuss three-hour concerts in general.
And Bruce in particular.
Dad was an obvious fan, had been before, and understood certain people’s motivation for attending a run of nine shows.
He was also a diplomatic family man and carried on separate conversations with Mum and Daughter and his itinerant not quite neighbour.
Around twenty minutes before the show was likely to start, the vacant seat was occupied, and I had someone else to talk to.
The indigenous bloke in the seat in front of me joined in as his female companion got caught up in an across the aisle conversation with two girls who could well have been relatives.
Or people with a significant number of mutual acquaintances.
You don't need to eavesdrop to figure out that sort of thing. Snippets like She's getting married in April allow you to draw fairly obvious conclusions.
Then the neighbour appointed out the band in procession from the dressing rooms to the backstage
Area, and a minute or two later we were on.
I'd already pointed out the music stands, stage left of Max’s drum kit, but as the two keyboard players donned accordions and headed for the front of the stage it was obvious where we were starting from.
Lonesome Day was another addition to the song matrix, and if anyone needs convincing about the depth of Bruce’s unreleased back catalogue I would point them straight towards My Love Will Not Let You Down.
Out in the Street rocked the way it should, and while they may have been planning to play Sherry Darling all along, there was a sign in the audience, a request to dance beside the drum kit, and an excuse to make things look like the sign that was responsible.
Personally, I could have done without Hungry Heart and Glory Days, but I'm not someone who has just shelled out $300 to see Bruce for the first time.
This Hard Land was a sign request and one for the hard-core fans while New York City Serenade with the strings worked, as it has done every time.
The problem comes with those two words: every time.
The 78 intro to Prove It All Night seemed to be another sign request and it went down just fine up where I was sitting. It was good to get Trapped again, as was the case with Cadillac Ranch and My City of Ruins, but the rest of the main set was, I thought, an exercise in covering the bases and keeping the mainstream fans happy.
That was probably the case when Waitin' on a Sunny Day made its reappearance, though one suspects a certain amount of dissent from a certain senior East Streeter about its place in the set at all.
Or maybe he was just kidding around.
But the crowd loves it, so I guess it stays.
The other thing that has been reasonably interesting has been the slow and continuing evolution of Shout, first played (according to BRUCEfanatic) in Clarence Clemons’ New Jersey nightclub back in 1982.
A look at the numbers played in seventeen appearances at the venue reveals a predominance if old rock and R&B numbers. The old Isley Brothers rave-up would appear to be right at home in the setting.
Then, again according to the app, it was played once in the States in 2012, around eighteen times across Europe, South America and South Africa in 2013 and made its Australian debut in Perth around three years ago.
Since then it has gone on to become a regular feature in the encore, with the play count, according to BRUCEfanatic around the 116 mark.
So it turns up frequently these days, and without checking too closely, it usually slots in straight after The E Street Shuffle.
As anyone who has attended a show recently will know, The E Street Shuffle, with its visual tribute to Clarence Clemens and Danny Federici, slots in towards the very end of the encore.
But it can't really end the encore.
It needs something after it.
One option, which I seem to recall from 2014, is to wrap things up with a solo acoustic number, a gentle wind down from what has gone before.
Alternatively, follow E Street with another rocker and you have a possibility of finishing with another. Rosalita, for example.
Or, as we've seen recently Twist and Shout.
And that is where Shout fits in.
It can close the show, and send everybody on their way home in a positive frame of mind, or it can wind the crowd up a little further for another frenetic finale.
For Australian audiences, it can also be seen as a nod towards legendary Australia rocker Johnny O’Keefe.
That, at least, was how I read it the first couple of times.
Actually, it almost seemed like a throwaway, something tacked on to the end to better things out a little longer. Or maybe, I just wasn't paying enough attention.
What has be obvious in the last couple of shows is that the shelf is evolving. The evolution of a have started earlier, and in fact, it probably did. But the developments took some time to register, and they're not going to be obvious on a recording because a lot of the evolution lies in the visual schtick that has come to be part of the package.
It is, I guess, a fairly natural process that Bruce has been employing throughout his career.
He adds something to the onstage performance, usually as a spur of the moment thing, and if it works he tries it again.
Maybe it works really well, ad then goes on to become something of a trademark, associated with that song.
A show that has evolved over 40 years will contain any number of examples of that sort of thing, and they are probably littered all the way through any given set list.
And the process is probably happening all the time.
But it's interesting to register what's happening and observe the development.
One final point.
If you're going to register that sort of thing, you need to be watching.
Not heading back towards the bar to buy another round.
I've always found the need to head off, several times, in the middle of a show for another round of overpriced blues in plastic cups be mystifying. I
like to drink as much as any given next man, and certainly more than most.
I'm not going to leave my $300 seat for a drink while Bruce or any other artist I've paid big bucks to see is playing.
But, from my seat on the end of the row, I was surprised by the number of people who will.
Hang on. Let's refine that.
I'm not going to leave my $300 seat for a drink while Bruce or any other artist I've paid big bucks to see is playing. Unless there is absolutely top shelf liquor involved.
Penfold's Grange in a plastic cup might be sacrilegious, but it would tempt me to leave my seat.
During Waitin' on a Sunny Day.
While the kid's onstage.
American Land
Lonesome Day
My Love Will Not Let You Down
Out in the Street
Sherry Darling
Hungry Heart
Glory Days
This Hard Land
New York City Serenade (with strings)
Prove It All Night ('78 intro)
Trapped
Youngstown
Cover Me
Death to My Hometown
My City of Ruins
Cadillac Ranch
I'm Goin' Down
Waitin' on a Sunny Day
Because the Night
Badlands
Thunder Road
* * *
Born to Run
Seven Nights to Rock
Dancing in the Dark
Tenth Avenue Freeze-out
Shout
Twist and Shout
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