Bob Dylan's Grammy Award winning album Time Out of Mind is a dark, soul searching rumination on the passing of time and growing older.  As he sings, "It's not dark yet but it's getting there" on one of the album's tracks, one can't help wondering if the 57 year old musician  is close to meeting his maker.  The thought of his hospitalization for a heart infection last year certainly fuels such speculation.

If his September 22 concert at the Puyallup State Fair Grandstand was any indication, Bob has no intention of leaving us anytime soon.  Known to be occasionally stiff and stonefaced onstage, Dylan was remarkably animated in front of the more than 10,000 who gathered to hear the performing artist on this pleasant last evening of summer.  As he sang, he smiled and mugged down to the first few rows and also shuffled about the stage, bending his knees as he took each guitar solo.  It was clear that Bob was alive and well and having a wonderful time as he and his four piece band stormed through songs from throughout Dylan's more than three decades of music making. 

Even though the set list included familiar favorites such as "Blowin' in the Wind" and "Highway 61 Revisited," some of the other song selections were often surprising for old and new fans alike.  After opening with the popular anti-conformist anthem "Maggie's Farm," Dylan and company took an unexpected turn with a sterling rendition of the ominous "Man in a Long Black Coat" from the critically acclaimed 1989 album Oh Mercy.  A short while later, they pulled out the semi-obscure "You Ain't Going Nowhere," done up in a wonderful folky arrangement that had the crowd clapping and singing along.

The down-home feeling continued as the musicians put down their electric instruments and became an acoustic string band for a few numbers in the middle of the show.  The bittersweet love song "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right," featuring some pretty guitar picking from Larry Campbell, brought screams of delight from the audience, while a menacing "Masters of War" was an awe-inspiring reminder of how powerful Dylan's early Sixties protest songs still are today.  "One Too Many Mornings" sounded as beautiful and world-weary as ever and "Tangled Up in Blue" concluded the unplugged session with an all out hootenanny jam that brought people to their feet.

But the highlights of the evening came from the Time Out of Mind album.  It is obvious that Dylan and his band enjoy stretching out on this newer material.  David Kemper's thunderous drumming and bassist Tony Garnier's nimble fretwork nailed down the swampy mysterious beat on "Cold Irons Bound."  The deep funky groove of "Can't Wait" supported what was perhaps the best Dylan vocal of the night.  His singing here was an inspired sly growl.  "Make You Feel My Love," a ballad recorded by both Garth Brooks and Billy Joel, and also perhaps the slightest track on Time Out of Mind, seemed to come to life in concert.  The live rendition had a subtle tenderness lacking in all the other recorded versions.  "Love Sick," with its lonely footstep rhythm, outclassed its album counterpart too, sounding all the more spooky and desolate in its onstage incarnation.

After touring virtually nonstop for the last decade, Bob Dylan shows no sign of slowing down or burning out.  Playing in front of his fans night after night seems to revitalize both the man and his music.   The Puyallup concert proved that Dylan is still capable of creating what may be the some of the best performances of his career.  Perhaps the secret to his longevity lies in the chorus of the final song of the night which went, "May you stay forever young."  The benediction could be intended as much for Bob Dylan himself as for his audience.

SEPTEMBER 1998

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September 11, 2001 was supposed to be a good day.  It was the release date of Bob Dylan's new album "Love and Theft."  Instead, it was a "sad and lonesome day," as I was awakened by a telephone call from my supervisor telling me not to come into work, since the Seattle Center was closed due to terrorist attacks in New York and Washington, DC.  I turned on the television just in time to see the World Trade Center towers crumble to the ground.  The rest of the day was spent in numb shock watching the television news reports come in.  My wife Kathy and I were planning on flying to Spokane, Washington the next day to attend a memorial service for my brother-in-law, who passed away earlier in the month, but we didn't even attempt to go to the airport to catch our flight.  When Kathy turned in the airline tickets, "National Emergency" was listed under the reason for refund on the credit slip, which was rather chilling.  I asked for two days bereavement leave for our Spokane trip and ended up taking them just to stay home.  After hearing about disabled people trapped on the stairways of the WTC, I didn't feel much like being in a multi-storied office building anyway.    When I returned to work on Friday, people were walking around stunned.  It's just as well I had stayed home since no one really got any work done all week.  Nearly two months later, life has returned to something close to normal, I guess, though there is this pervading sense of dread that seems to be in the background of every activity.  Go to a concert or movie, or anywhere people gather, and there's this feeling, a kind of identification with each other, that says we're all doing our best to get through this world gone wrong.

I frequently find solace in music, so receiving my copies of "Love and Theft" (both on vinyl and "special edition" CD with the bonus disc) in the mail after the disaster helped in my return to life as usual.  The release of "LAT" was unusual for me, however, because I actually heard all the songs from the album weeks before its official issue, thanks to the magic of the Internet.  Since the downloaded songs were spread out on my work and home computers, I had no sense of "LAT" as an album, so I looked forward to hearing the work as a whole.  It's interesting to note that the two disc vinyl version divides the songs three to a side, putting "High Water" in the opening position of the second LP, making a terrific kick off for "LAT"'s "second side."  Immediate favorites were "Mississippi," "High Water" and "Sugar Baby," but "LAT" is definitely a work that grew on me, with different songs becoming favorites every time I listened to it.   One day the seductive croon of "Moonlight" would stick in my head, the next it would be the revved-up rockabilly of "Summer Days." 

After living with "LAT" for almost two months, the song that I nearly wrote off as a "Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat" rewrite has surprisingly settled in as a firm favorite.  I have absolutely fallen for the menacing lyrics, Dylan's ominous vocal growl and the stone-solid dirty blues riff that is titled "Lonesome Day Blues."  I think it's the closest thing that Dylan has done to the blistering sound of the rockers of the 1965-1966 era.  The way he and the band grab on to the groove and never let it go is a sheer joy.  Maybe it's the times or my frame of mind, but I can't remember when I've had so much fun listening to a new Dylan song.  I just have to turn up the stereo every time the song comes on.

When Dylan's fall 2001 tour dates were announced, right away I thought how great it would be if he opened the shows with "Lonesome Day Blues" as a bold statement of purpose.  A "no pussyfooting" declaration to say he's still making music and the audience is still listening, despite terrorists and war.  Now, I know the likelihood of this happening was slim to none, since the recent set lists have been somewhat predictable.  So predictable, in fact, that I hadn't bothered trading for any bootleg recordings of shows since my last Bob concert in Madison, Wisconsin on October 29, 2000, which was a good solid performance with few real surprises.  There were undoubtedly fine moments among subsequent shows, as the sly version of "Mr. Tambourine Man" on the Pathway to the Stars bootleg compilation proves, but looking over the song lists, I really couldn't be bothered.  Something had to change to get me interested again.  I hoped the new "LAT" material would give the shows a much-needed boost.  At first, I planned on revisiting my friend Larry and going to Madison again for the fall dates, then thought of Oregon and finally settled on seeing Bob in my backyard when he decided to open the tour in Washington State.  I bought a ticket for Seattle and almost got one for Spokane, but an arthritic hip made me decide against any long distance traveling.  I bought my ticket the first day of the bobdylan.com pre-sale, but didn't receive it until over a month later, just three days before the show, and found it very difficult to get excited about the concert while being suspended in ticket limbo for so long. 

The latest leg of Dylan's "Never-Ending Tour" finally arrived and the reports from Spokane were encouraging, with the premiere of four new songs, plus the appearance of two favorites, "Blind Willie McTell" and "Tomorrow Is a Long Time." A friend of mine also e-mailed saying that the show made him feel as if he'd gone to heaven, so my expectations were high as I entered Seattle's Key Arena on October 6.  Bob and the band didn't fulfill my wish of kicking things off with a roaring "Lonesome Day Blues," sticking instead to the more standard but still rousing opener "Waiting for the Light to Shine."  The rest of the opening acoustic set was similar to Madison 2000, but fine enough, as Dylan ended each line of "To Ramona" with a descending growl, whisked through an energetic "It's Alright, Ma, " and wrapped up with the mournful "Searching for a Soldier's Grave."  The first new selection of the evening heralded the start of the electric set and was something of a disappointment.  "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum" is probably one of my least favorite "LAT" song and the live rendition didn't change my opinion of it.  The arrangement was very much like the album version, which didn't manage to elevate the song at all in concert.  "Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You," the first of three (!) Nashville Skyline songs in the set, was a case of a decent performance in the wrong spot.  It was fun to hear, yet not strong enough to raise the excitement level after "Tweedle Dee."  Even though "Memphis Blues Again" is one of my favorite songs, in recent years it seems to have lost its subtlety and merely become a nondescript excuse to rock out.   As Bob and the band began playing it's nearly unrecognizable introduction, I started to think that I was in for a rather predictable evening.  Where was "Lonesome Day Blues" when I needed it?

But I should have known better than to think of Dylan as predictable.  Next up was the live premiere of "Moonlight" and it turned the show around for me.  Bob's croon was a little rough on the high notes, yet somehow this made the performance all the more endearing.  It was amazing that the not-quite-capacity Arena crowd remained almost reverentially quiet until Dylan grabbed a harmonica at the song's end.  His hand gestures and knee bends accompanying each note of the harp coda brought cheers of delight.  It also reminded me that, as wonderful as "LAT" is, it might have been nice to hear the harmonica on a song or two.  In light of recent events, "Masters of War" and "Hard Rain" took on a greater significance and received their share of enthusiastic responses as well.  Larry Campbell especially impressed me during these numbers.  He seems to have taken on a more varied and active role in the band since my last Bob show, playing guitar, steel guitar and mandolin, not to mention his fiddle playing, which made "To Be Alone With You" a highlight.  Charlie Sexton too has gone from being barely audible to finally showing off his talents taking many fiery solos and adding subtle shadings to "Moonlight" and "Sugar Baby."  A hush fell over the crowd as Dylan and Sexton eyed each other in concentration as they performed latter brooding ballad.

So, Seattle wasn't a perfect show, but there were parts of it that were better than any Dylan show I've ever witnessed.  It seems to have gotten me back into trading too.  I was able to secure a copy of the show less than a month after it took place and am actively pursuing dates from the rest of the tour.  Each new "LAT" song performed on the tour brings a little more excitement to getting back into the trading game.

My Dylan book library has also been expanding lately with all the recent biographies.  My favorite is David Hajdu's Positively Fourth Street, a vivid account of the Greenwich Village folk scene that concentrates on the relationship between Bob Dylan, Richard Farina, Joan Baez and her sister Mimi..  I'm not sure I quite buy the assertion that Richard Farina invented folk-rock, but Hajdu certainly puts the reader amid these four volatile characters.  I met Hajdu when his book tour came to Seattle and he related how he sent Dylan an advance copy of the book to obtain permission for lyric quotations.  Dylan reportedly read the manuscript while on tour and didn't get back to Hajdu until just before the publication deadline.  Hajdu takes the fact that Dylan granted permission to use his lyrics for a mere $100 as a tacit approval of his book.  I also thoroughly enjoyed tagging along with Andrew Muir throughout Razor's Edge, his diary of following Dylan on tour.  It was a joy reliving concerts and meeting fellow fans and Bob himself.  I have to say, Andrew handled himself in Bob's presence better than I probably would.  I've met my fair share of artists I admire and usually am able to be myself, but the thought of meeting Dylan makes me speechless, for some reason.

OCTOBER 2001

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Before his previous show in Seattle on October 6, 2001, I hoped that Bob Dylan and his band would blast out of the starting gate with "Lonesome Day Blues," a bluesy rocker off his latest album "Love And Theft."  Well, that night Bob and the boys kicked things off with an acoustic traditional number, which had been the standard concert opener for the past few years.  Still, it was a very good show, as Dylan rewarded the post-9-11 Seattle audience with stellar renditions of songs such as "Hard Rain" and "Masters of War," along with tunes from the new album.  The not-quite-capacity crowd responded with a mixture of enthusiasm and reverence; pin-drop silence during the quieter songs, loud cheers greeting "Like a Rolling Stone" and other old favorites.

Dylan returned to Seattle almost exactly a year later on October 4, 2002, and since this was the opening date of his fall tour, my hopes were even higher for a few setlist surprises.  Little did I suspect. . .

I arrived at the Key Arena with my friend Bob shortly before the house lights went down.  An announcer read a rambling introduction, calling Dylan a "counterculture icon" who "forced folk in bed with rock in the 1950s, disappeared into a haze of drugs in the 1970s, was written off in the 1980s, only to produce some of his strongest work in the late 1990s."  Apparently, this is a quote from a review written by a Buffalo, New York, newspaper critic that amused Dylan so much that he started using it to preface his shows this summer.  Hearing this was already quite a change from last year, but then Dylan hit the stage and launched into "Solid Rock," a song he hasn't played much since his 1979-80 gospel shows.  Even more surprising, Dylan was standing center stage and pounding away on an electric keyboard.  I hadn't even noticed the piano set up on stage before the show!  (Interestingly, there was also a lap steel guitar on a stand next to the piano, though it remained untouched.)

Dylan has occasionally played piano during concerts before, but in Seattle he stood at the keyboard for more than half of the 21 songs.  His style is very percussive, somewhat like a junior version of Jerry Lee Lewis or Little Richard.  It's easy to imagine this is how Dylan sounded as a teenager playing piano in his high school rock 'n' roll bands.  There were a few rough spots, as when he and the band played tug-of-war with the rhythm of "It's All Right, Ma," but Dylan seemed to be comfortable in his new instrumental role.  He seemed relaxed, often turning around to direct band members with finger-points and head nods.

Just as I was recovering from the wonderment of hearing "Solid Rock" and seeing Dylan as keyboardist, he threw another curve.  Dylan is known for radically rearranging his songs in live performance, which often confuses listeners wanting to hear their favorites rendered exactly like the recorded versions.  It always bothers me when I hear people commenting how they didn't recognize a song, but as the band started the fifth or so number, I couldn't place it.  When Dylan started singing the slow, stately ballad, the lyrics were familiar and then I realized it wasn't a Dylan composition at all.  It was Warren Zevon's "Accidentally Like a Martyr," performed note-perfect and with passion.  Zevon had recently announced that he'd been diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer, so this was obviously Dylan's tribute to a fellow songwriter, a wholly unexpected and touching gesture.

Dylan then strapped on his electric guitar as Larry Campbell and Charlie Sexton launched into some slashing guitar riffs, introducing not a Dylan classic, but a hit from those other 1960s survivors the Rolling Stones.  It was "Brown Sugar!"  My friend Bob, a big Stones fan, was stunned.  I'd already been impressed with the interplay between Campbell and Sexton at previous shows, but they seemed especially spot-on for this tune.  For that matter, the unusual song selection seemed to bring out the best in the whole band.  The concert almost felt like a rehearsal at times, with the band having fun jamming on favorites that just happened to strike their fancy.

Throughout the evening, Dylan continued to pull out new tricks, including two more by Zevon.  "Boom Boom Mancini" is not one of my favorites, but there's no question it fit the loose, rocking spirit of the show.  "Mutineer," Zevon's poignant salute to his fans, was somehow even more beautiful in Dylan's hands.  In contrast to Zevon's solo rendition, the full band arrangement only added to the song's power and richness, transforming it into a fan's statement back to the songwriter.

The concert ended with the scorching rockabilly of "Summer Days" and an encore consisting of three crowd favorites, "Like a Rolling Stone," "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" and "All Along the Watchtower."  Even though the arena was barely half full (probably due to Seattle's high unemployment rate), those in attendance got caught up in the no-holds-barred attitude that Bob and the band presented at the show.  Most, like me, were simply awestruck.  It's amazing that after over 40 years as a performing artist, Dylan still refuses to be pegged and is determined to deliver the unexpected.

Oh yeah, he did play "Lonesome Day Blues". . . the next night in Eugene, Oregon.

NOVEMBER 2002

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