It’s 4:02 p.m. on a warm Friday and the traffic is, as expected, bad. I’m making the longish journey from the North Shore of Boston to the MGM Grand in Connecticut where tonight, Bob Dylan is playing. Not a gamble, because every bone in this somewhat slight body tells me this will be good.

I could be wrong, of course, but so far, I’ve yet to see a Dylan show and be disappointed, so maybe I’m feeling a little prescient. Or maybe it’s the couple of Ricards awaiting me when I arrive (because we are erring on the site of caution, leaving very, very early). Slot machines hold no appeal, but I’m curious about the MGM and the whole idea of a “sovereign nation” within the states. I rather like it. But for tonight, I’m putting all my money on Dylan.

But that’s hours away and the drive is long and I’m wondering what he’ll play. I could try to guess based on previous set-lists, but he seems unpredictable these days and I like that. I don’t really want to know. I admit I DID put in a request for the Brooklyn show (“Lay, Lady, Lay”), which, by god, he sang and it made SUCH a difference. Bob may not know – or care – but should he ever see this, know that you made all of the difference in the world. Let’s just leave it at that.

Ah, the song of my sexual awakening, as I joke (half-joke, okay?). Yes, a late bloomer, laugh all you want, but that song made all the difference and that he played it in Brooklyn likewise made all the difference. Who do I thank?

Sure, I’d love to hear it tonight, but my work is done. Or Dylan’s work or deed was done. Good deeds. Pray for small mercies, right? I want to hear some songs, I admit. I want to hear “Spirit On The Water” because I want to shout “Nooooo” when he says he’s past his prime, and I want to shout “Yesssss,” when he says we can have a whoppin good time. You bet. I’m that girl shouting those words. (I am not, however, the girl blocking everyone’s view in the aisle, but we’ll get to that….). I am just the girl with the tousled blonde hair and pink cheeks who just can’t get enough of what he is saying, because truth to tell, I could sit and listen to him talk all night. That’s the truth. Well, Bob, as Jeff Buckley said, “I don’t look so good from a distance, but I tell you, I’m the one.”

A friend, not a Dylan fan, a friend of mine who grew up in the projects in the Bronx tells me earlier this day that he doesn’t like Dylan at all. I’m bored already by this conversation, but listen anyway. He tells me, Dylan is “just” some middle-class kid from Minnesota and “I want him to do my job for just one day and we’ll see how he manages. Then he’ll know what real work is,” he says. He continues, “What does Dylan have to complain about anyway?”

Damn, baby. What do any of us have to complain about? Uhm, let me see: the war in Iraq, the price of oil, avian flu, poverty, injustice, “greater Goliaths” as Dylan once said, “a hard rain”, war war war, the general state of the union. I would say those are pretty valid things to “complain” (to use my friend’s pejorative term) about. And I don’t see Dylan as complaining back then anyway – I see him as speaking something or putting voice to something that the rest of us were thinking. No, he wasn’t protesting, as he said. He was protesting protest. Gotta love that. “All I ever do is protest.”  Was he angry? Remember that reporter from “Don’t Look Back”? And Dylan’s perfect answer/non-answer, “I’m not angry…I’m delightful.” Yep. Both are true. I’m angry and delightful too. So are you, most likely.

While my friend is still off on a tear about Dylan (which I am vaguely listening to), I am thinking about Dylan’s “job” and that his job isn’t exactly an easy one. Sure, he asked for it, but didn’t we all ask for our job? I would wager that Dylan’s job is harder in many ways than most of ours, witness the difference a year can make between “Don’t Look Back” and “Eat The Document”.  You want to watch someone come unraveled from stress and the road and the pressure of that attention at such a young age (and in some small way, I can relate to that, having worked at Vogue at age 15… starting college at 15… it’s too much… one isn’t’ “ready” for the world in that way; and that’s small potatoes compared to what I am sure Dylan went through because everybody looked to Dylan for ‘answers’). Be careful what you wish for, right.  To be labeled and quizzed by the media constantly, to be held up by a certain group as their icon (the protest movement) then to have those people abandon you and label you their “Judas” just because you are doing what YOU want to do, that’s gotta be hard. I see him in “Eat The Document” and in some ways, I can relate. I can empathize and that’s the key. I’m surprised my friend cannot, given his background, but he sees himself as so different from Dylan – hey, the way my friend sees it, he had to “work” for what he got: Dylan didn’t. I say, O bullocks. Dylan works hard every freakin’ day. What he does, what he did, is by no means “easy”.

***

It’s 5:54 p.m. and we’re now driving slowly through a hard rain on route 95. Lots of traffic, hardly moving. Maybe they too are placing their bets on Dylan. Or maybe they’re just placing their bets. Cars seem to taper off at Norwood, Dedham, etc – places along the way that I do not know. Out of town “bedroom communities”, quiet and sleepy.

Here and there the sun comes out. The closer we get, the sunnier it gets: a yellow sun through a wash of grey, a giant apricot in the sky. Surely a good omen, portent. I will say that while I have always loved the baseball field tours, I am glad that on this night, the show is indoors, because it would be miserable in the driving rain and mud. I’m antsy now. I wish we would just get there already because we are supposed to meet some people and already my phone is ringing, but no. Instead, we are traveling at a top-speed of 15 m.p.h., with me, on occasion, smoking a furtive cigarette to pass the time. I’m bored.

***
 The MGM Grand is grand. It’s sort of like the Taj Mahal gone wrong – built to man’s folly, and indeed, I suspect a lot of people lose a lot in this place, but it is damn impressive. At the end of an otherwise unassuming country road is a pale-blue domed building that is just enormous.

After now four hours of driving, I just want to sit down and see the show. I also want a drink. But wait, this is MY life, so nothing can go smoothly. There’s a problem at WillCall with the tickets. They have no record of my name. I speak with several people who finally bring the manager, to whom I also show my press credentials. I’m not asking for anything here, other than what is promised. Press credentials don’t to hurt prove that I’m legit. He takes those and my license and goes off to call backstage. After an hour, he comes back (it’s now 8:50 p.m. and I’m seriously thinking I’ve just driven four hours to see someone I love but who I am, ultimately, going to miss, and this means that come Monday, I am not going to be in a pleasant mood, should these tickets not suddenly become manifest). But mirabilis dictu! they do! Someone somewhere, backstage it seems for that’s when the tickets come through, gives the “yay” and we are given fifth row orchestra. Excellent seats. Thank god the WillCall ordeal is over.

The red velvet seats here and the faux adobe walls have a sort of soothing effect (which is good after the most recent debacle); a sea of red velvet, raked, fabric with waitresses on the aisle who will bring you drinks. I never thought I’d get into this sort of scene – that I was the baseball field girl – but I have to admit, I really am into these seats and I like that there is somewhere hear to bring me a drink, especially right now. I see the appeal of this place.  I have my binoculars, which seems absurd because I am so close that I am probably only thirty or fewer feet away from the man himself, but still, I want to see his facial expressions and every detail. If my job is to report, then report I will.

It’s a little after nine p.m. when the lights go down and the stage light comes on and the band and Bob make their appearance, with a fantastic version of “Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat” which is unlike any other version I’ve heard of the song and positively sets the tone – upbeat and wow! Ready, steady, go!

Bob is wearing a dark suit and a long jacket with green piping on his trousers. His green shirt matches the piping and has some shiny fabric there, but I can’t make out if that’s a tie or the shirt. Something shiny. And my god, is that a haircut? He is clean-shaven; his hair is fabulously curly (under his greyish cowboy hat with a rooster feather tucked into the side ribbon). He looks great. He looks young. He is young, frankly, and he certainly isn’t past his prime, but he looks younger on this night. Maybe because he’s happy?

He skips into “The Times They Are A’ Changin’. One wonders if this is coincidental given the current political climate, but as my friend John says, “There are no coincidences.” I agree. (A quick aside, someone searched my Dylan site the other day for the “meaning of “a” in ”The Times They Are A Changin’”. No comment).

I won’t go through the entire set-list, because you have it here at the end of the piece (go ahead and skip right there…). I’ll say that this is probably the best Dylan show that I’ve seen in a long time. I admit, I’m partial to the show he played in Pawtucket, Rhode Island a while back, but likely for sentimental reasons. Who knows, right. But that was a different Dylan and a different time and I’m liking this one a lot.

I’m liking it all and I’m really liking that he sings “Just Like A Woman” until some youngish woman with long hair stands up two rows in front of me and starts swaying to the music as if the song had been written exclusively for her and BD is going to take notice and say, “Wow, where have you been all my life…” (please…). I tell her to sit down. A lot of people shout, “Sit down!” She does not. Finally, I’m tired of this. Hey, I have a job to do and I want to hear the freakin’ song and see the show. I take a piece of paper from my notebook and roll it into a hard ball and fling it in her direction. It hits her (gently) on the back of her head. Now she turns around. “Sit down!” I tell her. Look, it’s fine if everyone is standing and yes, it’s Dylan and I want to be standing and grooving too, but the thing is, it’s just fucking rude, so no, I don’t do it. It’s not that I’ve gotten so old that I’ve lost my “concert vibe”. Shit, I used to go and see Iggy Pop and Bowie and the Butthole Surfers and used to dance and scream my head off while totally out of my head, I admit, but that was at a place where everyone stood up and did the same thing and it wasn’t a seated venue. So fair is fair. My paperball works. She sits down. Listen, dance if you must. I’m right there with you, but please, go to the aisle.

“Chimes Of Freedom” is exceptional and although I’ve heard him play it before, I’m ecstatic to hear it again and it’s an excellent rendition. Different, but it still has the raw power of the original and isn’t watered down at all. Dylan has his harmonica out every now and then – a flash of silver that he takes from the left-hand side of the keyboard and holds up to the mic. I also notice that some things change, some things never change. You remember how in “Eat The Document” he sings “Ballad Of A Thin Man” (clearly one of my favorite songs, I know), that he moves to and from the mic a lot: bobbing back and forth. He does the same thing tonight. He’s bobbing toward the mic, then pulling back before he yowls out the next phrase. I love that this hasn’t changed. I also notice that his gold mascot is there in all of its glory as well, sitting on top of a speaker marked “Leslie” (at least, that’s what I think it says, but I don’t have my glasses on… but the mascot is there. I heard it was also there at the Brooklyn show. I’m glad for him. It’s serious, but shows a bit of humor as well… this little gold guy seeming to dance on the speaker).  But wait! What is this I see through my binoculars… some bling? On Bob’s left-hand wedding ring finger is a ring! Holy cow… what does this MEAN? Does it mean what it often means? Is he married? Am I out of the loop on this? And how did I miss this – why didn’t someone tell me? Or is this just a ring that he likes? It’s gold and seems to have a diamond in it, for it flashes and catches the light when his hands (still beautiful) move over the keyboard. I ascribe no meaning to said ring… I really don’t know… I DO know that whatever it means, I hope it’s good. I imagine it is, and if there is a “she” involved, all I can say is damn, baby, you’re a lucky girl. Really.

There are a lot of smiles from Bob tonight. He seems to be having a good time. After “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight” (one of my favorites) he sort of salutes the crowd and everyone gives it back. Another sentimental favorite of mine and I’m glad he plays it and it’s a good rendition as well. He also plays, “ Most Likely You’ll Go You’re Way (And I’ll Go Mine)” which I didn’t recognize at first, but turns out to be another excellent performance. Some of these songs I have heard before, sure, but not in a set-list like this. He’s mixed it up a lot. I could be remiss, but this experience so far has been wholly unique. The night will bear out that the entire of the evening is unique and Bob plays for about two hours.

The encore, we wait for it. Everybody begins to clap until we fall into a rhythm and everyone is clapping at the same time and same moment (“If only you wouldn’t clap so hard…). But we do. We do until he comes back and opens with “Like A Rolling Stone” and I will say this is the first time in show that I actually like this song live. Other versions live just haven’t been as good or had any raw power, but this time, the band really backs it up, the drummer is excellent, the whole band is great, really, and so it really packs a wallop. After this, he introduces the band – then begins “All Along The Watchtower”.  

Okay, let’s take it from there. I understand that Hendrix did his rock ‘n roll version of the song and that it packed some power and fine, but I’m not there to hear Hendrix. Frankly, I prefer the studio version of this song. I think it has a quiet power that makes it all the more powerful. To belt it out is almost overkill. Dylan does a little bow at the end of the show. Holds his hands up like they are surgeons hands almost, and leans forward and everybody cheers wildly and holds up their hands. He seems to bask for a little while. I wish he’d bask longer, because I think he deserves it and the crowd isn’t going to stop clapping and cheering. But back to the second song…

It could be that Dylan A. Doesn’t want to do a quiet version and prefers the loud version, or B. It could be a matter of band and acoustics. It’s hard to play a quieter version of that song with drums like that and etc. or C., finally, it could be that Dylan thinks WE expect to hear that particular version by now and so it’s a forgone conclusion. If so, I tell you now, you couldn’t be more wrong. I still think that your original version, Mr. Dylan, is the one that packs the punch. Just my thoughts. Sometimes, subtle is stronger. I don’t need or want to be smacked in the face. I’m smarter than that now… surely you know what I mean.

Thanks for listening,

s.r.p.


1.     Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat (Bob on keyboard)
2.     The Times They Are A-Changin' (Bob on keyboard)
3.     Things Have Changed (Bob on keyboard)
4.     I'll Be Your Baby Tonight (Bob on keyboard)
5.     Can't Wait (Bob on keyboard)
6.     Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I'll Go Mine)
(Bob on keyboard)
7.     High Water (For Charlie Patton) (Bob on keyboard)
8.     Chimes Of Freedom (Bob on keyboard)
9.     Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum (Bob on keyboard)
10.     I Believe In You (Bob on keyboard)
11.     Honest With Me (Bob on keyboard)
12.     Just Like A Woman (Bob on keyboard)
13.     'Til I Fell In Love With You (Bob on keyboard)
14.     Nettie Moore (Bob on keyboard)
15.     Thunder On The Mountain (Bob on keyboard)
      
      (encore)
15.     Like A Rolling Stone (Bob on keyboard)
16.     All Along The Watchtower (Bob on keyboard)