Albuquerque, New Mexico
Tingley Coliseum
April 11, 2006

[Brian Doyle], [Pat Burns], [Pete Madzelan], [Lynne Robinson], [Rose], [Diamond Sky]

Review by Brian Doyle

It was another long drive to Albuquerque, New Mexico because I stayed two
nights in Tucson, Arizona to check out some of things interest to me as
it’s just a great little place to be, and of course home of the Colorado
Rockies at Hi-Corbett Field for Spring training. That would have made it
an even sweeter outing to catch them and Mr. Dylan, but really, if you are
baseball or history buff Tucson offers much for these folks, like me! I
arrived in Albuquerque in plenty of time to find abode for my little
residency. I love this place indeed the true Highway 66 put this right in
the epicenter (and into the more dangerous driving areas of the old Route
66 as well). Gallup, New Mexico is not far away, the place where Bob
claimed to be from at times, but he has surely been there. Highway 66 was
something of American Lore, and not that long ago, and now just fragments
of what was once a major and so loved route of travel exist here. It’s
likely more famous for the fact that Bill Gates started what would become
Microsoft back in 1975 right here! I last saw Bob play at the Santa Ana
Casino, and that was the night he re-introduced, “In the Summertime”, the
first stab at that since 1981. I was expecting big things tonight and was
disappointed. The Tingley Coliseum is not the best place in the world to
catch Bob, but it really didn’t have that bad of sound considering it’s
age. It’s a venue that is more like a barn and was built almost 50 years
ago although it has had several renovations over the years. Merle began
almost on time, around 7:41 pm and the band opened with the now familiar
two song set by the band alone and then Merle joins them to begin his way
too short set. Merle has not had his wife onstage the past two nights; I
really miss her handclaps. Don’t be fooled that because Merle is old, that
he has lost a thing. He plays a slick and smooth guitar and his voice is
as good as ever. Bob probably likes that he is not the most senior member
on the tour, and Merle and Willie are certainly country legends that Bob
has nicely engaged. There is a good 20 minutes before I find my way back
to my seats, and the usual problems of people trying to move up for the
Dylan segment cause a lot of chaos that could be avoided. There were
plenty of security people here tonight in yellow shirts, seems like
everywhere you looked, but they failed to check floor tickets and allowed
way too many people to enter non existent seats. I am not sure how that
could be corrected, but this place is just too much, reminds me of the old
Coliseum in Denver, and acoustics not on par with more modern arenas, but
adequate as the Dylan show can attest to. The music and incense are lit,
and the lights go down as Al begins the introduction for Mr. Dylan. They
quietly and quickly scurry like little scorpions into their assigned stage
areas and Mr. Dylan begins the show with “Things have changed” and it is
an appropriate opener for all these beautiful new arrangements on the
tour. There are a few annoying children (actually they are more like mid
twenties but very lacking in maturity) to my left that insist on yelling
for everyone to stand up, dance, etc, and that would be all good if they
could just not talk and yell. I cannot believe that one would go to a Bob
Dylan show and not be there to enjoy the listening experience. It’s a
shame because the song is very well delivered and Mr. Dylan is right on in
his timing and phrasing, and the voice, surely the best it’s been in
several years. The organ is pleasant and sometimes sounds like a Hammond
church organ with less reverb and at others like a harmonica, anyway it
works perfectly. Perhaps a little Circus monkey swirl could be added into
a song or two, but the rock grinder is polishing gems this evening. “The
times they are a changin’” is next on the list and the crowd reaction is
very positive to the song, and one that they know well, save for the idiot
I mentioned earlier who want people to stand by demanding, this is BOB
DYLAN, yes, yelling, and fortunately drew enough attention to himself to
get booted out of the seats for lack of tickets. I love people to stand as
well, but when it is clear that the rest of the people prefer to sit, I
would always respect the wishes of those around me. Mr. Dylan’s harp is
tooting like a freight train tonight and filling the venue with a crisp
and bellowing delight. It’s an A+ version and warming the Tingley cow
palace, which already is sweltering from the lack of good airflow.
“Tweedle” chords begin and the song is way too familiar, and not sure why
Mr. Dylan has such an appetite for playing this one when there is so much
out there that would engage the listener, but hey, it’s his show. Though
on another level “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle dum” is quite an extraordinary
masterpiece, but even I get bored hearing this has it’s been played so
often. Perhaps as appeasement Mr. Dylan then breaks out “To Ramona”, and
it’s just so pleasing and manifests the reasons that night after night you
can never know what to expect from the man. The harp is almost weeping and
Tony on the bass is filling in the voids with a great and steady line for
the band. The electric mandolin is tweaking the organ, and the mix is
amazing. You can almost feel those cracked country lips soften with the
Bob balm.  This band is solid and have played together long enough that
they blend, but still pay much attention to what Mr. Dylan has up his
sleeve. They are not tentative, I think just very well at taking
instructions and following the leads that Mr. Dylan expects. Sloppy work
is not tolerated and I can imagine when Bob berates someone it’s not real
heart warming feeling, but one I am sure is directed at a professional
level. It’s very concise and clear; he is their leader and directs every
movement as conductor. “Stuck inside of Mobile” is chugging along this
freight train as the stage explodes, and one can only hope that the old
walls here can contain the implosion. Stu is prefect on the guitar and
again the harp is forceful, and a treasure to be sure. There is a warm
feeling over the place and Mr. Dylan is again, belting these songs out
with little or no flaw, and engaged in his work. “Love sick” begins and
that’s always a rare treat, and this again is played in the different
tempo that please me well. All that’s missing is a few Victoria’s Secret
models on the side stage swaying to the crooning Mr. Dylan and showing a
few skills of their own. Good thing the mythical Dylan Lady from the Pool
wasn’t there to bare her infamous goods or they may have been a riot.
Well, on second thought, it would have ruined the whole thing and not such
a good idea since this song is amazing in it’s gentle and heart tugging on
it’s own. The sound is quite good and effect is astonishing. It’s well
done Mr. Dylan. “I’ll be your baby tonight” was a treat, and I half
expected Bob to dedicate to the lady he mentioned as running the fan club
down this way when he played at the Mesa Del Sol with Phil and friends
here in July of 2000. That was a magical evening in it’s own right, but
this show is certainly a peg or two ahead despite the vocal harmonies that
are lacking and missed I might add. For me the next song “Ballad of a Thin
Man” was the showstopper as it was almost as good as the other evening.
The vocal and directness that have him belting out the familiar “and you
don’t what is Mr. Jones” is impressive. Mr. Dylan is performing this in
the commanding way he has in the past, simply brilliant the entire way
through and demands the respect he is offering to us. The harp is long and
driving and this cow arena is now the castle and all the kings’ men can’t
put the pieces together again, and Humpty Dumpty has gone home with the
old man who lived in the moon and indeed, we now have the diamond has big
as our shoe. “I don’t believe you,” sounds almost identical to its
previous evenings deliverance and the song is always great. I think the
organ does this one the best new justice, and again, a very solid change
of the guard in a very splendid show. These old venues make for special
evenings, or afternoons as they had in the past. “Cold Irons Bound” is the
song you just must catch on the new tour. It’s totally reworked and the
blues flavor is tasteful and well thought out. (And definitely twenty
miles out of town) If the new record has any sound that resembles this it
would be stunning and give rise to the throne that Mr. Dylan so rightfully
has earned. The song in my view will be remembered as much as material
from 1966, it’s just that we are in the now, and the future will almost
without doubt look back at these fondly. “Lay Lady Lay’ actually has the
couples in the audience embracing and the love that purrs from the words
is matched by the music. This is perhaps the best love song ever written,
and the chord structure is intact, though the new sound gives it a much
more romantic seasoned version that like Fine Wine has aged to perfection
and no longer Masked and Anonymous. It’s the real deal and this is Mr.
Dylan’s town. This song was one of the few that I could ever get a woman
aroused with in my young days, and for those memories one would certainly
have to pay a fee because they were very successful if you get my drift.
From the very fist strike of the guitar one could feel the energy of
“Cat’s in the Well” and Donnie standing behind the keyboards with a
wailing violin smokes the dust in the air in about two seconds. The energy
should be bottled and sold like a shot of RED BULL, or Bob Dylan “Revive
your dead brain cells Seltzer” or better yet, played again and again as
the finale to the first set. So, again as the have since Reno, they depart
in total darkness though one can see the red lit cigarettes almost the
minute they descend the back stage staircase. Bob has fed the masses and
the encore request is loud and thunderous and echoes in the old cavern.
They return to great appreciation, the band is introduced and they are
already to rock right into “Like a Rolling Stone” and almost every time
this is played there are small little nuances that change from night to
night. Is this the greatest Rock and roll song ever written? You can
literally feel the sound as they crank the engines for “All along the
Watchtower” and Mr. Dylan carefully brings it up and then brings it way
down, sadly the crowd noise usually interferes with the intrinsic value of
the down tempo quietness that pervades the Arena, but then, it swells and
boils to the last blast. I like when the echo effect is used, and not sure
why it’s not on some evenings, but anyway, a perfect ending to the show. I
am heading home after the show to Denver, and a good night’s sleep, but
perhaps I may venture out again at some point as this run has been
wonderful. I met lots of new friends and of course the old ones, and all
seems well with everyone and that is the never-ending story of what makes
Mr. Dylan so special. I can conclude since the Triduum begins Thursday
that this is a special time to look into one’s soul and reflect on past
transgressions and ask for mercy for the things that didn’t quite make me
the person I always should have been. God Bless you Mr. Dylan and may the
reflections of the road to Calvary remind you, and us, that perhaps every
cross that we have ever shouldered, pales in comparison to the light of
the world. May we all pass from the darkness to the light and appreciate
the wonders of things we cannot understand. Some are on their way up, and
some are on their way down, but we are all going somewhere, and may the
journey make your trip a pleasant one.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it
(John 1:5)

Brian Doyle


Review by Pat Burns

I first saw Bob on the "comeback" tour with the Band after the
accident. So powerful, and this ABQ show was almost as strong.
Next I saw him at "Hard Rain" on his birthday in Colorado when the
recording was made, and the afternoon was uplifting despite the
weather.  Then in ABQ for the "born again" tour, when he 
sounded his best ever, but he lost the crowd due to the Jesus 
sermonizing. He came to Santa Fe with the Saturday Nite Live Band,
and mumbled his way through a set that said, "I'm tired and am 
ready to quit."  In Albuquerque in 2000, playing before Phil Lesh, 
he showed the old spark was back. I went to Pueblo, where he 
did 20 songs and proved he loved making his music still.  In 2002
he played an on-again off-again show at Santa Ana &  I sat in the 
front center where half the show was on keyboard. I realized the 
guitar was soon to be left behind. My 8th Bob show was in ABQ 
and I sent an email to lead guitarist Denny afterwards: "Heard the
show last night in ABQ. Big shoes to fill, Robbie, Mike B., Jimi,
Charlie...At 1st it was hard to see B.D. not on guitar. But as the
night proved, you stood tall to the test and kudos for a job well
done."  Bob blew a 2 chorus harp solo on "Stuck Inside Of Mobile With
The Memphis Blues Again" that made us all realize why his true
virtuoso instrument is the harmonica. He continues to reinvent his
songs with rhythms and phrasing totally different than the original
recordings, often going up in the melody from the originals at the end
of a line. I was glad to be there, glad that a man who gave us so many
great songs still loves performing for us and being so inspirational.
Thanks Bob. Merle just about stole the show. This man continues to
write, sing and, most of all, play his guitar better and better as the
years go by. The Strangers are still the best back-up band any C&W
artist ever assembled, and Merle's voice only gets better with use,
like Tony Bennett. He is truly a National Treasure. His Bush jabs may
infuriate the right that embraced him in the 70's, but Merle has moved
so far from that he must truly be accepted as an Americana original
that should not be placed as not as an equal with his influences, but
as a true American music master at the level of George Gershwin, 
Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong. Thanks Merle

Pat Burns
Santa Fe


Review by Pete Madzelan

Bob Dylan’s bus rolled through New Mexico, stopped for refueling and gave
us here a rare opportunity to hear his music.  We would love more
stopovers, but just knowing that the minstrel show is still out there
clicking miles onto to odometer is enough—probably not, but it will have
to do.  The venue was Tingley Coliseum at the Fairgrounds in Albuquerque,
it’s off Central Avenue—old Route 66, where Bobby Troup’s classic 1946
song “Route 66” is still about getting “your kicks on Route 66…”  The
Coliseum is more apt for rodeos than concerts, yet it did its job.  The
acoustics were great.

There’s no question that the aura of the night took on a special glow, as
if the trickster played with the brightness of the moon, turning it up a
notch.  Let’s face it, with Dylan things like that happen.  The variable
of mystery goes hand-in-hand with the endless questions and analysis about
him and his music.  The human stain of curiosity wants to walk through the
crevices of his mind; get beneath the layers and peel him like an onion. 
After all these years, the curiosity isn’t going to stop.  And yet, the
mystery and questions remain unresolved because in the end, it isn’t about
trying in vain to figure him out, but rather accepting what he gives, and
that is quite enough, isn’t it.  

The night opened with Merle Haggard walking onstage around 7:30; tipping
his hat and removing his shades to acknowledge the standing O.  His voice
was strong; his set was far too short, though it did include cutting blade
swipes at Bush and Nixon.  As a joking tease before his last song, he
started “Okie from Muskogee,” then just as abruptly stopped.  The joking
tease played well.

Before leaving, he said, “It’s Bob’s joint now.  Enjoy.”

I took a folded paper from my pocket and went over the tour’s earlier
setlists, trying to ready myself for what was to come.  Is there a way to
ready oneself beyond higher than high anticipation?  The problem was that
Bob’s changing setlists, switching them around.  What will be, will be. 
Personally, I was hoping for the Vegas set that kicked off with “Things
have Changed.”

Without warning, the music from Aaron Copeland’s “Fanfare to the Common
Man” began playing softly, meaning Bob was not only in the house, but the
time was near.  I walked a galloping stroll back to our 8th row seats as
the aromatic scent of incense blowing from a side-stage machine was
ingested.  Bob’s Oscar (a replica?) sat pretty onstage.  I almost wondered
why, but I wasn’t about to go there.

Suddenly, the arena darkened.  On stage, within the darkness there were
thin rays of lighting.  The band entered looking like bodies flowing
within shadows.  Then, the lighting silhouetted the unmistakable figure of
Bob Dylan.  I wanted to check my watch for the time—history and all, but
for that moment, time as we know it didn’t exist, it was standing still.  

Then, there was a flashing of lights and the thunder of applause; bones
were rumbling in the heart of New Mexico.  Dylan had finally made it back
to NM, returning with the first flowers of springtime.  

The set began with Things Have Changed.  “A worried man with a worried
mind.  No one in front of me and nothing behind…”  Oh, yeah, I was locked
in tight, but damn sure not out of range.  The crowd stood as one; the
roof blew off the joint.  Nobody sat until the 4th song, and when that
happened, it was done reluctantly.   After the opening song, without pause
or hesitation, The Times They Are A’Changin’ rang out.  In doing so, Dylan
traveled back to 1964.  The trip was effortless, for so much of what was
then is now.  The connection of time was without compromise, like playing
solitaire with desert solitude.  

Dylan’s music doesn’t lose anything from yesterday to today.  He isn’t
stuck in the past.  Rather, it’s what poet, Joy Harjo, refers to as
“spiral time,” as opposed to “linear time.”  Linear time is characterized
by a beginning and an end.  You’re always proceeding; it’s a straight line
journey.  Spiral time is process as opposed to progress.  It is all
encompassing.  In the present, you realize that the past, present and the
future are affecting everything, and you understand that what is done at
this moment affects the past and will affect the future.

The ruckus bouncy Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum brought us back to the 21st
century, but not for long; this concert was a shuffling deck of history. 
The Vegas setlist witnessed one change as To Ramona was inserted instead
of It Ain’t Me, Babe.  During the beautiful song, Dylan’s voice broke and
leaned towards gravelly, but for most of the night his vocals were strong
and clear.  And hell, with Dylan, nothing is ever perfectly neat, there’s
always been an edge to everything he has done.  And that edge
remains—jagged and piercing.

Throughout the night he switched musical gears.  After To Ramona, he upped
the tempo, digging into the piano keys like a prospector excavating for
treasure.  He came up with a gem, Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis
Blues Again.  It isn’t easy to get used to, but Dylan no longer plays the
guitar, moving on over to the piano.  The stage set-up didn’t give the
audience a frontal view of him, but rather we got the profile of the right
side of his face.  Yet, watching Dylan perform is different than watching
anyone else.  It’s that ever present swirl of mystery; the questions: 
What is he going to do this time?

What it is, and what it became was an intimate scene.  The intimacy wasn’t
with the audience for he rarely looked our way.  The intimacy was between
Dylan and his music.  He was a man lost within the rhythm of his art.  He
became head-bobbing Bob, weaving up and down; swaying to the music.  He
was deep into it and getting deeper.  We followed at our own risk.

Every time his left hand reached for, then picked up his harmonica there
was a pronounced gasp of eager anticipation from the audience.  Or, was it
only me?  The harp crystallized a specific moment, underlined time and
place as somewhere without borders.  The penetrating power of the sound
blows right through your heart, disarming you.  

With every Dylan event and/or CD, we witness the wheel of creativity in
constant spin.  And that continued as song tempos were revised; made new
as he continued to change; to cultivate the landscape of music.  At times,
taking us to the barrenness of open spaces—desolate and desperate, then
taking us to the close quarters of closeted emotions—love, want and need. 
He tossed out double-meanings to ponder.  He gave us those in-between
moments of thought where existence is decided by a held breath.  

Again, the rhythmic tempo of the concert did a pendulum swing, this time
towards heartfelt blues of Love Sick.  He sang “I’m walkin’…”, and we
followed his footsteps.   From this desolate blues route walk into a
barren wilderness, he deviated, nestling into country roots with I’ll be
Your Baby Tonight (and later, Lay Lady Lay).  Say what you will, but never
question Dylan’s deep entrenchment in the river of American Music, from
where he freely breaks off to flow down the various tributaries of that
Big River.

Piano keys crackled like thunderbolts as Ballad of a Thin Man blistered
the southwest, making this dry bone land of drought bleed.  “…Something is
happening here / But you don’t know what it is, / Do you, Mr. Jones…”  It
is of course subjective, but this could be called the evening’s highlight.
 The delivery was potent and it was telling.  Dylan remains out there,
beyond the straight jacket constraints of a dictated order, continuing to
cross the cultural terrain with a wary eye ready to expose what he sees. 

Just as we were still staggering from the song, he launched into I Don’t
Believe You.  It’s a bitter love song that fell neatly into its place in
the set.  The word play has always mesmerized me.  It’s like staring at a
painting.  I once read where Leonard Cohen called Dylan, “the Picasso of
song.”  Like Picasso, maybe this song was from a Blue Period.

The musical dirge during Cold Irons Bound was bone chilling; the rafters
were rattling.  Afterwards, it took  Dylan to entice a calming interlude
with Lay, Lady, Lay.  The calm ended with Cat’s in the Well.  The animated
rendition closed the show by urgently upping the ante of hard blues. 
People were up and dancing, “Good night, my love, may the lord have mercy
on us all.”

Bob left; returned in darkness, flickering the flame from his own lighter
back towards the audience. 

For the encore, Like a Rolling Stone was still hypnotic; full of drama in
rhyme with Bob stretching—elongating words, and then shooting stanzas
staccato style into the night.  He closed with a riveting version of All
Along the Watchtower.  It was spellbinding with howling Hendrix-like riffs
coming from somewhere out there beyond the walls of the old building.     

Bob and the band returned for a final bow to the crowd.  The band was
relaxed, as Bob shuffled and squirmed, looked shy and uneasy—fidgeting. 
Then, he was gone, leaving a night of good time memories.  Like the wide
sky of New Mexico, where the horizon seems to be ever growing, his music
is a forever growing thing.  Hey, Bob, thanks for stopping by, and adding
a brushstroke or two to the evening sky.

Pete Madzelan
Santa Fe, NM 


Review by Lynne Robinson

It's not often Bob Dylan  passes through New Mexico and when he does, I
make a point of going. I've called this place home for the greater part of
my adult life and Bob's music has certainly been a big part of my life
too. I've listened through the years...Last Tuesday afternoon, my youngest
daughter (a big fan in her own right) and I drove down to Albuquerque from
Taos where we live to see the "Bob Dylan Show."
 We arrived in town early as instructed by the posters that appeared
in Taos a week before. In time to scope out the old fairgrounds where the
Tingley Collisseum is situated, see Haggards bus arrive, annoy a few
security guys with our presense and enjoy a cup of tea at a sweet,
sidewalk cafe just up Central.After a leisurely picnic dinner in the
parking lot (prime spot) we headed into the hall (old barnlike structure)
and found our seats which were to the left of the stage, front row box.

The same security guys now acted like our friends as we watched the
backstage comings and goings and waited for Merle Haggard to come on. His
band opened with a few tunes, dedicating a song to the late, great Waylon
Jennings and then Haggard appeared to a standing ovation. My daughter
remarked that there should have been a dance floor so folks could twostep.
This is Cowboy Country after all. Haggard has a truly wonderful voice. His
band is fabulous and it was a pleasure to see them. I'd go again. The man
writes gorgeous songs, has a pretty rockin' little band and made us all
feel like dancing!

Short break while  we watched Bob's roadies set up the stage, noticing
immediately that everyone was tucked in tight right in front of the
curtain.As far away from the audience as they could get! Bob's organ was
situated so his back was to where we sat. I thought it was funny but from
what I could observe, it didn't look like anyone else was seeing much of
him either. This show was not about "eyecontact".Something was happening

Copeland's "Fanfare" started up, the insence began to waft in the air and
the curtain changed from black to scarlet. The theatre went dark and
suddenly Bob was onstage and Things have Changed rang through the room. I
had not seen Dylan in a few years. I last saw him in Atlantic City soon
after he switched over to keys , I knew I was in for a great treat,and
after seeing the past few setlists was ready for anything. I was
interested to see what  Bob was doing with the songs;both in terms of the
arrangements and the interpretation. I was secretly hoping for the Vegas
version of the "list" and felt more than blessed to get Ramona too! He was
immediately forgiven the tedious Tweedledee.

This band is a well oiled machine and Tony and George are the engine
that drives it. And man, what an engine! These guys just smoke.
The new arrangements are spectacular. Showcasing the songs like the
jewels they are. But best of all, Bob is singing. Really singing. Even the
tiresome upsing has been whittled away and put to better use than self
parody. There is a new, deeper richness to the timbre of the voice, a
mellow kindness -   It was a beautiful thing to hear .Perhaps the
keyboards have given him a chance to develope this. He's always had the
phrasing of course, and he's become a noticably sophisticated singer with
time, but last time I saw him live, his froggy voice had taken over and he
sounded like he needed a rest.On Tuesday he was as good as he gets.

If you have a chance, definitely go and see this show (preferably
w/Haggard, another Musical legend). It may be the most "on" he's
(Dylan) been in awhile. Something's happening here...As the lights
came up after Watchtower and Bob figeted in the stagelight, we ran to our
car and got out before the crowd. As we turned to go North, we passed the
busses and gave them a thumbs up before turning up Johnny Cash on the cd
player as we drove on into the Northern, New Mexico night.

Bob was heading to El Paso and another joint As we drove into the Taos
Canyon, across the river from the old stage coach trail, just past Embudo,
we saw a dead coyote in the middle of the road. Coyote was the presale
password for Tuesday's gig. I smiled as I whispered a prayer for the soul
of the animal, and wondered perhaps if the trickster's days were over and
now we get the straight, unadulterated, real deal Dylan at ;last! I woke
the next morning thinking maybe I dreamed it but then I heard the mp3's
posted at the Pool, smiled to myself again as I poured another cup of java
for the road!


Comments by Rose

A Dylan performance is easy for me to describe.

Dylan = Truth = Beauty

Do I need to say more?  I will anyway because last night in Albuquerque he
performed "To Ramona" which I never thought I'd get to hear live in a
hundred million years.  It was done so hauntingly beautifully that it
touched my soul.

I thank my lucky stars each time I get to see him live.  Each performance
to me is a true jewel.  I guess I'd sit in a room surrounded by brain
dead, yellow bellied filth led by a perverted worm just to be close
because I love and adore him dearly.

God Bless Mr. Dylan

Jemez Springs, NM


Comments by Diamond Sky

Tingley Coliseum is the worst musical venue in Albuquerque. Fortunately I
had center, 6th row seats so the sound was good. This show was not quiet
as good as the SunCity performance. Generally speaking the band wasn't as
focused and the song selection (tho innovative) was not as powerful. I
could have done without "I Don't believe You"-not an intersting
arrangement and played at a point in the concert where a rocker would have
been much better. Tho well performed, "Cat's In The Well" should have been
replaced with say "Rainy Day Women.."  Dylan's voice was strong thru out. 
The best songs for me were "Love Sick" and Cold Irons Bound".  A quality


Click Here
to return to the
Main Page

page by Bill Pagel

Tour Guide
Tour Guides
Bob Links
Set Lists
by Date
Set Lists
by Location