I’m not a music aficionado.

Sure, my iTunes playlist spans from Biggie to Bowie; from Kanye to Marvin Gaye, but I never really bought into the overwhelming pretence that shrouds musos.

I don’t rail against the litany of supposed injustices that populate Triple J’s Hottest 100, push an artist out of my rotation after the become popular, or see the implied meaning in Ed Sheeran lyrics.

Yet, despite my self-imposed exile from the snobbery of those immersed in the industry, there are certain things that I can still appreciate.

Sharing oxygen with Bruce Springsteen, as he and the E Street Band power through one of their trademark performances, is one of those occasions.

In the interest of disclosure, it should be stated that I consider myself a fan of The Boss. Therefore, when offered the chance to head to Rod Laver Arena for one of his sold-out Melbourne shows, it was a pretty easy choice.

Before the show started, excitement amongst the capacity crowd neared its peak and I spoke to a man similar in age to Springsteen, who claimed to have been in the pit every time The Boss had performed in Melbourne.

A complete quote would contain a few too many expletives, and also in my pre-show state I wasn’t able to digest every syllable, but one comment stuck with me verbatim.

“I feel like I know Bruce”, he said.

“I didn’t grow up listening to him, we grew up together.”

Despite the four-decade age gap between the two of us, I understood exactly what my temporary acquaintance was saying.

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A little after eight the lights dropped, and the star of the show strutted out into the spotlight and launched into a three-hour-long set. The band hit all of its proverbial high-notes during a night that combined a stadium rock sound with the occasional country aside, and brief jazzy trip.

Only taking brief pauses to meander out amongst the crowd, and explain to the capacity audience how he had become versed in Melbourne culture and dialect, it was impossible not to be swept up in the sheer emotion and magnitude of the performance. To run the risk of indulging in unnecessary hyperbole, Springsteen and the E Street Band are a legitimate force of nature.

On the journey home, with final few chords of Rosalita sting ringing in my ears, I couldn’t help but wonder how a 63-year-old New Jersey native – who sings largely about small-town simplicities – was able to create a sound that crossed borders and translated into different languages.

Springsteen is a storyteller, without question.

The lyrical wizardry of Jungleland, Thunder Road and Backstreets – just to name a few – are short stories, told over the top of a band at full-flight.

Bruuuuuuuuce @springsteen rocking @Rod_Laver_Arena right now! pic.twitter.com/kVT8FIhYJI

— Frontier Touring (@frontiertouring) March 24, 2013

But, if you were tasked with identifying the essence of the E Street Band’s frontman, you would point to the moment in the show when he routinely eases off the pedal, plucking a participant from the crowd – usually young enough to be his grandchild – to work through the chorus of Waiting on a Sunny Day – with varying degrees of succes.

Springsteen pulled this out of his bag of tricks on stage last night, as he does in the overwhelming majority of his shows. An expectant fan-base practically lifted the child over the barrier before Bruce even signalled to the security guards, and before too long he was sharing the spotlight of centre-stage. The temporary band member stumbled through the chorus for a short while, before Springsteen splashed his knees with water, making the pending knee-slide possible. Then, almost as quickly as he took the stage, he vanished back into the masses.

In reality, it’s one of the more staged fan interactions you’re likely to witness at any sort of concert.

Yet, with The Boss, it still feels genuine.

Halfway home, as Blinded by the Light blared through my car stereo, it struck me. Despite being a true worldwide name and über-millionaire, Springsteen is still incredibly relatable. He was once described as the poet laureate of America’s working class, however such a narrow-scope doesn’t do the Asbury Park inspired superstar justice.

Despite the obvious differences, Bruce Springsteen is still one of our own – whatever that our may be.

Liam Quinn is a third-year Bachelor of Journalism student at La Trobe University, and the editor of upstart. You can follow him on Twitter: @liamquinn23