“It’s Bob Dylan” they told me. “It’s Bob Dylan” I said. I know, I know- He’s a bit old, and lets face it, he was never the “best” singer out there, and even though I tried really hard not to have expectations–I did.
At 8:09 I expected Dylan to be on the stage, by 8:30, fifteen seconds later, the lights go down a hasty introduction is read as the band and the man himself quickly crowd the stage. One nearly unrecognizable song is followed by the next with occasional spatters of words that I heard once, and that I had thought to be lyrics of “good” songs.
Let’s face it, I didn’t come to the show to see Dylan sing, I came just to have a story to tell. But somehow, I did expect that such an ardent tourer, who is famous for his lack of interest in the audience, that me might put a bit into his music- maybe some of the “Rolling Stone” or “Tambourine Man” magic. It wasn’t there.
The songs enough were to make the audience cheer, but, I’m pretty sure they weren’t cheering for Dylan. They were cheering (I suppose) to be at the concert, to see an icon (not a musical act-an Icon). And the crowd had every reason to cheer, because the backing band was rock solid, and Dylan showed up. He rasped a bit, blew a harmonica and said good night just before an uninspired “Like a Rolling Stone”– and then the lights came on. The audience groaned. So there we have it– Bob Dylan. I had a good time (I’m not sure if he did).
