Well. The first of three nights of the “London Residency” portion of Bob Dylan’s latest UK tour – and as someone said “things have changed.” No photographs from the event – with bag checks and phones sealed away at the entry door – and even from the front of the back of the stalls the dimly lit stage was a long way away (some taping, however, did occur and can be found quite easily on YouTube). We aren’t going to discuss ticket prices – suffice to say the front stalls were at what to me seemed eye-watering prices. Let’s put all that aside, and with the reflection that this really was likely to be the last time I caught Dylan (never say never, but he’s 83 now) how did things go, what got did and what got hid?
Famously Dylan is forever chopping and changing his set list – but not anymore, this portion of Dylan’s perpetual tour is officially the “Rough and Rowdy Ways” tour and the set list reflects this – every song, apart from ‘Murder Most Foul‘, would get played. Dylan is still electric, but pretty much he stuck to the baby grand piano throughout. Not that he’s become Billy Joel, although had he played ‘Murder Most Foul’ he could have tried to fit it to the tune of ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire.’ But that did not happen. The tour set list is pretty fixed now – both songs and song order the same several nights in a row, and the set list as well as reflecting “Rough and Rowdy Ways” also draws heavily on songs from “Shadow Kingdom” – the lockdown performance film and album of rerecorded and rearranged older songs also informed the presentation of this material. A dimly lit stage, and predominantly slowed down versions of the older songs, is all very familiar from “Shadow Kingdom” although the musical feel has shifted somewhat from an imaginary European smoky jazz club to somewhere more South of the border, and with the accordion replaced by that aforementioned baby grand.
Things started well with a slow and eerie ‘All Along The Watchtower‘, with the electric, Hendrix inspired, power replaced with a slow drip-drip of dread. ‘It Ain’t Me Babe‘ has had its venom drawn – this is a rueful Dylan reflecting with sadness on something which has long passed as he wistfully sang “someone to open each and every door, but…it ain’t me…Babe.” It’s worth noting at this point that Dylan’s singing is surprisingly smooth, the low blues growl has been replaced with something much smoother. The bluesy ‘False Prophet‘ arrived after the enigmatic ‘I Contain Multitudes‘ and brought a little more energy to the Royal Albert Hall, as, in a way, did ‘When I Paint My Masterpiece‘ which had been nailed onto the melody of ‘Putting On The Ritz‘ – here’s reinvention for certain.
Bob’s band – Tony Garnier – electric and stand-up bass, Bob Britt – acoustic guitar, electric guitar, Doug Lancio – acoustic guitar, electric guitar and now featuring on drums “Lightning” Jim Keltner – knew exactly what to do and when to do it, running like a well oiled machine. Jim Keltner is a fine addition to the band, but he had only a few occasions to really distinguish himself – everything was well within his capabilities and impressive excursions were not often the order of the day.
There was a very piano driven and funereal ‘Black Rider‘ which had Dylan staring into the abyss – and whilst there have been several times that Dylan has been identified as contemplating his end this is perhaps his most open song addressing the topic – although there’s ambivalence, he may ask to be allowed to let his soul pass on through a door, but there’s also a desire to remain in the various threats against the titular spectre of doom. It also featured the most dramatic audience interaction of the evening, with a woman’s inarticulate screaming punctuating the opening minutes of the song. ‘My Own Version Of You‘ came through only sporadically with garbled lyrics and the occasional muffling of the vocals, but ‘To Be Alone With You‘ entered with a crooner’s introduction and then rockabillyed its way through, with Bob adding a substantial and well received harp break. Like several of the non-Rowdy Ways choices it is from the slighter end of the Dylan canon but the injection of vigour was welcome nonetheless.
‘Crossing the Rubicon‘ musically stomped the blues, but the gig’s finest moment of reinvention was surely ‘Desolation Row‘ with Jim Keltner beating out a powerful rhythm which brought to mind ‘Series of Dreams.‘ This was a song where Dylan left the piano to just sing into a handheld mic’, there seemed to be some frailty as he never strayed far across the stage and kept a hand on the piano for balance – returning to it to play standing up. ‘Key West (Philosopher Pirate)‘ drifted on a gentle breeze, asking questions and offering up typically misleading observations; Dylan states “I was born on the wrong side of the railroad track / Like Ginsberg, Corso and Kerouac” – in terms of adopted beatnik lifestyle perhaps, but Dylan and two of his co-named by ordinary measures actually started life on the right side of the tracks. This was the song where Dylan’s piano playing entered a “all the right notes – but not necessarily in the right order” phase.
Having had a series of long and wordy songs it was time to revisit the old and well known – once again there was a tempo injection for ‘Watching the River Flow‘ which was then taken all the way down again for an almost all piano ‘It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue‘ which again drew the sting of the words with a melancholic air with a feeling of regret and, yes, empathy, becoming the predominant emotions. ‘I’ve Made Up My Mind To Give Myself To You‘ softly swayed like an out-take from “Triplicate”, with Dylan as the plaintive crooner accepting his fate to be the property of love – whether that be human and physical or something more spiritual is a debatable point. Certainly his declarations of intent were carried with a lingering hesitancy. ‘Mother of Muses‘ was most notable for Dylan introducing Keltner for the second time, and when this was pointed out on-stage adding something like “well I’ve said it twice.” On such stage banter we eagerly hang!
The evening closed out with a blues rocking ‘Goodbye Jimmy Reed‘ which strutted and stomped a little and the now consistent closer of one of Dylan’s finest songs from the “religious phase” albums, ‘Every Grain of Sand‘ – its regular position closing the show a pretty clear statement that religiosity was not just a phase. And that, as they say, was that – no encore of course, they’ve become as rare as hens teeth and it takes something like Jerry Lee Lewis dying to prompt one.
Starting at 8:15, and over by 10, what had it all meant? The true Bobcats will report on every vocal inflection and facial gesture of Bob’s, for those a bit further back – or alternatively not watching the whole gig through binoculars – it was harder to feel so involved. A surprising number – not a large number but surprising anyway – of people drifted out after half a dozen songs or so not to reappear and there were a number of overheard “well, I suppose I can say I saw him now” or “that’s ticked off the list” type comments on the way out. Understandable – Dylan live is not Dylan on record, we all know that and whilst this was mostly a fine set list it is still a little surprising to have recent albums featured so heavily. And of course we’d all love to see Dylan in an intimate venue – and the staging and musical presentation and this current more low-key arrangement would suit that as well – but that’s not going to happen. It was noticeable that there was a palpable uptick in audience tension and focus when the, yes older but also the more upbeat songs arrived – it seems churlish to suggest that the Nobel prize-winner can be a bit wordy at times, but when the words aren’t coming through too clearly it can make for a struggle. It hit me much later that on Dylan’s previous London visits if I had failed to get tickets for every night I felt a little disappointed. This time – and perhaps with the confident and to be born out knowledge that the next two nights would be near identical – it seemed like once was enough.
