There’s a film about Bob Dylan opening tomorrow. You may have heard.
And if you have heard, you may be readying yourself for it with some spins of The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, maybe, or Highway 61 Revisited, keeping in period for the film. Or possibly you’re just hitting any period Bob because why not?, or reading his true-in-parts-but-ah-which-parts? memoir, or, for the full-on fan(atic), digging out the VHS of Renaldo And Clara.
Others of us may be reliving some of those times in his company, from a stage darkly you might say. Which is where Wind Back Wednesday lands today. Specifically, the year 2011. Not the first rodeo for me, but judging by some of the reactions/departures, maybe the first for some startled attendees. And possibly their last. Well, that’s a Dylan show kids.
And this is that Dylan show.
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BOB DYLAN
Entertainment Centre, April 27, 2011
ASKING HOW YOU MEASURE or rate a Bob Dylan show requires a preliminary question: what do you expect from a Bob Dylan show? As usual in advance of the Sydney gig, we were getting talkback and online complaints about Dylan sounding like sand and glue and a bag of gravel; about lyrics being indecipherable and melodies unrecognisable; about the lack of talk and video screens; about, well, dammit, the man not sounding like he did on Bringing It All Back Home.
All true. Of course, Bob Dylan doesn't "do" that Bob Dylan anymore: hasn't done it for more than three decades. His long-time philosophy could be summed up by the opening song at this show, I’m gonna change my way of thinking - a policy which doesn’t try for consistency and practically warns of occasional misfires. But still people turn up to his shows and look surprised. And then walk out.
So should we see the fact that walk outs this night were relatively few as a sign that the message is getting through? Maybe. Maybe also that his audience is far from a gathering of the late middle-aged and the baby boomers reliving their youth but a fair spread of ages and demands and expectations. And maybe, let’s be fair, because this was one of Dylan's very good nights.
Making A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall into a choppy soul number, extending the chugging blues-with-swing of The Levee’s Gonna Break into a charging climax to the first hour, upping the country style of A Simple Twist Of Fate and vamping up Highway 61 Revisited all came off. Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues meandered, Forgetful Heart didn’t quite spark, and our positive reaction to Tangled Up In Blue was partially I suspect because we recognised it so early.
But you could taste the spit and fire of Ballad Of A Thin Man, his thick-fingered organ playing was often fun, an almost carnival feel to Like A Rolling Stone was entertaining, and you had to laugh at the way each time he snarled “senor” in Senor (Tales Of Yankee Power) it sounded like Sir Frank Packer growling “cigar”.
Two hours of a high end blues bar band doing their unfussy business, 17 songs, at least 10 bona fide classics any fan would be happy to hear and Dylan in what may well be a good mood.
What’s to complain about?
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