“Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?”
The words of Johnny Rotten (John Lydon) at Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco in January 1978 at the end of what was (then) the Sex Pistols’ final show.
Could the same question now be asked of the live dates on Bob Dylan’s current tour of the UK and Europe?
Well, in November 2024 when the Columbia recording artist was last in concert on this side of the Atlantic, he routinely delivered the same 17-song set night after night. It was a set that was top heavy with material from his thirty-ninth studio album, Rough and Rowdy Ways, a record that had by then already been out for more than four years.
12 months later Bob Dylan is back here again, playing the exact same set, in the exact same order with just the one exception – instead of opening with ‘All Along the Watchtower,’ as he did last year, he now begins his performance with ‘I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight.’
Quite why this is so when you take a look at the setlists from his recent American shows – sets that included absolutely no songs from Rough and Rowdy Ways and in which he performed four notable covers, including one from Bo Diddley and Jerry Lee Lewis respectively, as well as ‘Masters of War’ and ‘Blind Willie McTell’‘ – probably only he can tell you.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, Rough and Rowdy Ways is a mighty fine album, but just how many times do we want to hear it played live, especially when these shows don’t even include what is arguably its best song, ‘Murder Most Foul’ and we are always asked to pay pretty much anything north of £100 for the experience?
But, hey, it is Bob Dylan, after all. And the man is your actual living legend and modern-day cultural icon and as he inches ever nearer to 85 years of age, just how many more times will we get the chance to see him in concert?
But actually seeing him tonight is a bit of a struggle. Any additional revenue generated from those severely inflated VIP Premium tickets has clearly not been invested in the stage lighting. A few 40-watt bulbs, and a string of fairly lights along the back plunge the band into deep shadow whilst a single spotlight – like that of a car when on full beam – is located right behind Dylan, meaning that you are either blinded by that bright light or, when he shifts position to ride side-saddle on his baby grand piano stool to play guitar, he is lost in silhouette.
For all we know, it could just be some random Zim impersonator from West Yorkshire who has taken to the Arena stage on the stroke of 8 o’clock, a view that is quickly reinforced by what is an incredibly long introduction to ‘I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight’ and the hoarse rasp that eventually starts to strangulate the words to this, the last song on Dylan’s 1967 album, John Wesley Harding.
Maybe it really is Dylan, but he has employed a body double for the night and is just phoning in his vocals from his Malibu home on what is a really terrible connection? But, rest assured, any such doubts are quickly cast aside when the real Bob Dylan truly emerges for ‘It Ain’t Me Babe.’ The song has certainly become weathered over the years. And like Dylan himself it has lived a life and may now be a bit battered and bruised, but it sounds real. His voice is strong. And true.
On ‘I Contain Multitudes’ – the first song of the night from Rough and Rowdy Ways, which along with the others he plays arrives complete with subtle twists in the original arrangement – he says, “I’m a man of contradictions and a man of many moods.” His first assertion could never be open to question, but regards the latter the evidence thus far suggests he is in good spirits. He positively barks out the words to ‘False Prophet.’ “Can’t remember when I was born, And I forgot when I died,” he concludes. Do not worry, he ain’t dead yet.
With its creepy echo, ‘Black Rider’ could easily be on some soundtrack for a modern film noir. Then on ‘Desolation Row’ Dylan must have some hellhound on his trail because he blazes through the song at breakneck speed but does at least find time to have his first harmonica blast of the night, something that always guarantees an even louder cheer from the assembled throng of faithful Bob Cats.
‘Key West (Philosopher Pirate)’ kind of drifts a bit aimlessly as if Bob might be starting to run out of gas but a blistering ‘Watching the River Flow’ – complete with some rollicking boogie-woogie piano from Dylan – and a quite magical ‘It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue’ quickly dispel that notion.
Dylan’s more recent penchant for that soft-shoe 12-bar shuffle accompaniment, the one often favoured by cruise ship house bands, is only heard tonight on the penultimate ‘Goodbye Jimmy Reed,’ but is soon forgotten as he bows out with a majestic ‘Every Grain of Sand.’
It is not to everyone’s taste. Some folks leave early. I am not sure if they come expecting early sixties’ peak-capped folkie Dylan, or Rolling Thunder Dylan, or even Born-Again Dylan? What they get instead is the older, the here and now Dylan. There is no artifice to this version of the man, no deception, no question of us being cheated. He is still very much alive, very true, and continuing to operate on his own, very singular terms.
