“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the poet laureate of rock ‘n’ roll. The voice of the promise of the 60’s counterculture. The guy who forced folk into bed with rock. Who donned makeup in the 70’s and disappeared into a haze of substance abuse. Who emerged to find Jesus. Who was written off as a has-been by the end of the 80’s, and who suddenly shifted gears releasing some of the strongest music of his career beginning in the late 90’s. Ladies and gentlemen, Columbia recording artist Bob Dylan!”
Tonight, my favorite artist in any medium played at George Mason University’s Patriot Center in Virginia, backed by a band at the top of their game and armed with an assortment of brilliant songs written by the artist himself and picked from across more than four decades. It was, obviously, an excellent concert.
When I arrived at the Patriot Center with my friend Padraic and looked around me, I was struck by how encouraging it is to see so many Bob Dylan fans gathered in one place. The fact that there are hundreds of people willing to spend an evening at a Bob Dylan concert in Virginia is something that gives me faith in humanity. And it need not be said that there are precious few things in life that give me faith in humanity.
They started off with “Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again.” I had a strong emotional reaction immediately. It was probably a combination of seeing Dylan after a year or two having gone without, having my current troubles and concerns melting away for the night, and the performance of the song itself. It was very strong, and the lyrics wove into my mind in ways that they never had before. The first time I heard that song was driving with my old friend Jeff Skarin on our way home one night from the wedding of our friends Trey and Lori. Along with that ride being my first introduction to Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue, we played Dylan’s two-disc Greatest Hits Vol. II, and it was a revelation. I’ve always enjoyed this song ever since that night, but I now have a deeper appreciation for it. Strange and majestic. Dylan’s body moving in that quirky way that suggests he’s not from around here, or anywhere, and his hat shining like the moon. The concert had just begun.
Next was “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” one of my favorite Dylan songs, and one of the songs I heard at the first Dylan show I went to back in 2000 with my friend Eric, which was a formative experience. Dylan is spending most of his performance time behind a keyboard these days, but he stepped out to play guitar on this one. His vocal phrasing does crazy things to my mind. I love the finger-picking guitar style on this song.
One of the biggest treats of the evening was a radically different arrangement of the relatively-obscure “Man in the Long Black Coat.” It was still very dark and otherworldly, but uptempo with a deliberate rhythm to it. I hope I can track down a recording of this concert, and this song in particular.
Next was “Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum,” with Dylan back on the keyboard but also playing harmonic a bit. I love it when he plays harmonica, and this show had some especially lovely playing. This song was very rollicking and fast-paced. Guitar player Charlie Sexton is back with Dylan’s band after several years away – in fact, my friend Joey and I saw his last performance with Dylan in this same venue, where they brought the house down with a thundering rendition of “Summer Days.” It’s great to have Charlie back – he’s one of the best guitarists I’ve heard live, and the best I’ve heard with Dylan.
One of the songs off the new album, “If You Ever Go to Houston,” had a nice groove to it and was quietly moving somehow. “Can you help me find my gal?” had an extra bit of vulnerability to it.
Dylan’s been playing variations on “High Water (For Charley Patton)” ever since he first recorded it, and this was the best live version I’ve heard. Dylan went downstage center with his harmonic in hand for part of the song, spouting out his song like an old time preacher. “‘Don’t reach out for me,’ she said, ‘can’t you see I’m drowning too?’”
Dylan then pulled out “Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I’ll Go Mine),” which was a pleasant surprise. He played organ on this one, and his interplay with Charlie was phenomenal.
“Forgetful Heart” was a highlight. It was a much slower, moodier rendition than on the album, and I liked it a lot more this way. More like Time Out of Mind than Together through Life. Acoustic guitar and harmonica were the primary sounds, with a wash of other instrumentation underneath – violin, mournful electric guitar, and I think brushes on the drums. One thing I like about Dylan concerts is that the vocals are usually very high in the mix, so you can hear him (which is extra nice when he’s changed up the lyrics, as he did most noticeably a few years ago on “If You See Her, Say Hello” in a show I saw with my friend Jimmy). Dylan’s singing was just full of texture and emotion on this one. “The door has closed forevermore, if indeed there even was a door.” Absolutely haunting.
Padraic’s favorite performance of the evening, which I also loved, was an edgy new arrangement of “Cold Irons Bound.” It slowly built towards a storm of music, with Dylan’s harmonica and the band like fistfuls of lightning.
A very intimate, pretty “Workingman’s Blues #2” followed. Lilting and lovely.
“Highway 61 Revisited” was next. Urgent, blistering, double-barreled rock ‘n’ roll. Calling down fire from Heaven. Charlie’s guitar was screaming bloody murder. I could hardly stand it, I didn’t know what to do.
“Ain’t Talkin’” is one of my favorite Dylan songs from the past few years. Swampy and dark. Ancient and post-Apocalyptic at the same time. Cormac McCarthy. “I'm trying to love my neighbor and do good unto others, but, oh, mother, things ain't going well” stopped my heart. And Dylan growling, “ain’t no one here, the gardener is gone” is like an indictment of God from the only voice worthy to speak to Him. There are so many sides to Dylan, and we got two handfuls tonight. He has such a variety of material.
“Thunder on the Mountain” was another raucous rock song. Ridiculous. The audience hung on for dear life. Charlie and the rest of the band were really tight tonight. There was, the whole time, a woman doing sign language translation for the concert. Standing up in the audience, but out of the way. She was dancing a bit, enjoying herself, while moving her hands to communicate the words. I thought it was more than a little strange for deaf people to be there, since it was, after all, a primarily aural experience, but I guess it’s because Dylan’s “the poet laureate of rock ‘n’ roll.” On this song, though, Dylan gave her a real workout, spitting out machine gun vocals, running words together. “ThunderOnTheMountainRollingToTheGround, GonnaGetUpInTheMorningWalkTheHardRoadDown.”
And then “Ballad of a Thin Man” came along. It was, in a word, frightening. Dylan stood downstage center with his harmonica in his hand and sometimes raised to his lips. The guitar clanged out the angular, insistent riff that’s played on piano in the 1965 recording. Dylan’s voice swaggered and snarled like God and the Devil taking turns slapping you around. Merciless. Awe-inspiring. There is no one else like Bob Dylan in the world, and no one who could’ve stood up there and charged the room with danger the way he did tonight. Transcendent.
The first song of the encore was “Like a Rolling Stone,” which was everything this song has ever been. A living monument, like Dylan himself. A slightly different arrangement with a pronounced and new guitar riff, but unmistakably the classic kiss-off that will never fade. Bob Dylan is forever, and so is this song.
“Jolene” is a great blues song from the new album, and the band played it with a lot of hips tonight. Full tilt electric blues.
“All Along the Watchtower” burned the whole place down to the ground. Rapid fire explosions happening in the drum set, guitars sending out calls and responses, Dylan’s keyboards signaling the end of the world. Blood and thunder in his voice. A great way to end a show.
It’s good to be alive in the time of Dylan.
[Originally written November 11, 2009]
