When I was 17, I went to see Mark play in the sanctuary of the First Unitarian Church in Philadelphia with a really good friend of mine. He had a great rapport with the crowd that night, even the hecklers, and when he was taking requests she and I repeatedly shouted "New Jersey!" (I grew up in Northeast Philly, not Jersey, but we both loved the song.)
After a bit of joking about how he wasn't sure he remembered how to play it, he digressed into saying, if I remember correctly, that the song had originally been called "Newark, New Jersey," because he'd heard the woman it was about had moved to "Newark." Later he found out it was Newark, Delaware, and cut that part off. Later, he told a story about the first time he'd played Boston and a heckler corrected him about where he'd played that year. "What, were you fuckin' there?" He sneered. "YES!" shouted back the Heckler, voice bouncing around the church. Everyone laughed.
When I was 17, I went to see Mark play in the sanctuary of the First Unitarian Church in Philadelphia with a really good friend of mine. He had a great rapport with the crowd that night, even the hecklers, and when he was taking requests she and I repeatedly shouted "New Jersey!" (I grew up in Northeast Philly, not Jersey, but we both loved the song.)
After a bit of joking about how he wasn't sure he remembered how to play it, he digressed into saying, if I remember correctly, that the song had originally been called "Newark, New Jersey," because he'd heard the woman it was about had moved to "Newark." Later he found out it was Newark, Delaware, and cut that part off. Later, he told a story about the first time he'd played Boston and a heckler corrected him about where he'd played that year. "What, were you fuckin' there?" He sneered. "YES!" shouted back the Heckler, voice bouncing around the church. Everyone laughed.