http://www.brucespringsteen.net/news/index.html

DANNY FEDERICI
Danny Federici, for 40 years the E Street Band's organist and keyboard
player, died this afternoon, April 17, 2008 at Memorial Sloan-
Kettering Cancer Center in New York City after a three year battle
with melanoma.

Bruce Springsteen's concerts scheduled for Friday in Ft. Lauderdale
and Saturday in Orlando performance are being postponed. Replacement
dates will be announced shortly.


Damn....

Aww. man. This is very sad news. RIP.

Awful, awful news.
R.I.P. Danny!

Really awful news. I had no idea he was sick. RIP Danny.

I loved seeing him cart out the accordian. What other rock band was doing that in the mid-70s? I think my favorite is his solo in "Bishop Danced" on Tracks. Very sad.

RIP Danny.

Cancer sucks.
RIP Danny.

RIP Danny

Always loved his keyboards on all those classic Springsteen tunes. I've always said his sound is essential to Bruce, just like the guitar and the sax (listen to "She's The One for instance).

And this is also a good time to remind everyone they should get their skin checked once a year (on your birthday).

I did this past February and it was discovered I had a malignant mole on my chest (I had no idea).
I'm fine now but I dodged a bullet. Get an annual physical and then see a dermatologist too.

I am profoundly saddened by the loss of Phantom Dan. In my eyes, he was an equal member of a equally incredible unit known as the E-Street Band. We are all incredibly fortunate in having had the chance to hear him play and be a vitally important cog in Bruce Springsteen's sound.
Knowing how things eventually leak through the grapevine, I wish to extend my sympathy to the Federici family and to Bruce, Patti and the rest of the E-Street Band. My thoughts are with Danny as well as with you. I send my love.

I heard about this today and it's truly sad. Which songs would you Springsteen fans recommend that feature Federici's best work?? Any particular songs that showcase his keyboard work or where his playing really adds to the song?

Here are a few:

Danny plays the accordion on "4th of July. Asbury Park (Sandy)

His organ solo is a highlight of Springsteen's biggest hit "Hungry Heart"

His organ coda on the 9/11 inspired song "You're Missing" provides one of the more heart wrenching moments on "The Rising" album.

I need to drag out the Tracks boxed set--one of those songs on Disc 1 has a vintage Federici accordian solo that has been playing in my head ever since I heard this news

VH1 Classic has been airing Springsteen footage all evening as a tribute to Federici.

One of my favorite Bruce songs is "Ramrod," which is carried by Danny's carnival-organ riff. Not flashy, but just wonderful.

Listen to any of the live shows when the band did "Kitty's Back". Just kick back and take in the groove as it takes you higher and higher. If any of you also have shows of Steel Mill, Danny is all over the place on those.
For those of you who wish to make a donation in Danny's name, you may go to http://www.thedannyfedericimelanomafund.com . When you get there, make sure you type in Danny's name. I am encouraging all of you who are E-Street Band fans to make a donation of some type. He gave us so much.

If any of you have been reading the setlists reports over at Backstreets.com of the first two shows since Danny passed away, you have noticed that the shows appear to be just incredible.
For the Orlando show last night, Bruce decided to launch the band into a live version of "Blood Brothers" after the video montage of Danny was shown running another version of the song. At the end of the show, Bruce had Roger McGuinn onstage with him to do "Turn Turn Turn" and "Mr. Tambourine Man" with the E-Street Band. My God! It seems like Bruce has been absolutely on fire during the '08 run of the tour. Hopefully, all of these shows are being officially documented by him for DVD releases and official bootleg releases in the future.

I was at the first show, Tuesday 4/22 (Tampa) and let me tell you guys (and gals) I have been probably to 100 concerts in my life and this one is in top 5 of all-time. I haven't felt so much emotion both from the band and the audience in decades.

Here are some reviews of the show... (My man Curtis gets it right once again) :}

Springsteen, Band Find Tonic To Tragedy

By CURTIS ROSS
The Tampa Tribune

Published: April 23, 2008

Updated: 12:22 am

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.

and another review...

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.

These reviews brings tears to my eyes. I've seen Bruce many times and didn'y have chance to see him this time around die to moving. And I can just imagine the tribute to Phantom Dan. Thanks for posting.

Your welcome Marcus.

This eulogy was delivered by Bruce Springsteen at Danny's funeral on April 21 in Red Bank, New Jersey:


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.

Rick A,
I'm very grateful to you for posting that. I learned a few things as a result of reading Bruce's eulogy for Danny.

Thanks.

Your welcome as well Steve T. The concert will be alive in my memory for the rest of my life.

I'll tell you, Bruce sure can write and lay out his feelings and memories in that beautiful eulogy.

Thirded. Teared up reading that. Beautiful eulogy for his friend.