Asbury Park New Jersey

Convention Hall

August 13, 2008

[Tom Adams], [Peter Stone Brown], [Iris Seifer], [Michael Perlin], [Brian Slattery]

Review by Tom Adams

People in the area confirmed that Bob had rehearsed with Bruce
Springsteen and we expected that to happen.  I really could have cared
less but was excited at the prospect.  Bob's performances since 2005 have
been, in my opinion, poor even from the perspective of a HUGE Bob fan such
as myself.  His voice was remarkably better than I've heard in a while
though tonight. Just so you know, I think Spirit on the Water and Beyond
the Horizon are bombs and have no place in the curriculum. But hey, other
places in BD history would have had the same opinion and been wrong.  

Show opened with Rainy Day Women:  The acoustics in the Hall are
notoriously bad and anyone there tonight knows that you could barely
recognize the first 2 songs due to this. We were personally yelling
suggestions to the SBD people who eventually heeded our concerns on the
bass and you could then tell what song he was playing.  BTW, this is not
coming from a novice, it was so bad you couldn't hear anything but bass.
Bob rolled through a few more 

It Aint Me Babe: Again horrible sound but sounded like a great version and
we all enjoyed the reverberations of what sounded like a new version of
this song. Rollin And Tumblin' was good but still sound made it hard to
enjoy what was happening.

Spirit On The Water:  bided my time through it, don't like it

High Water:  Found a good spot in front of Bob's PA voice speaker where it
sounded clear. High Water kicked solid ass.  All were soaked in BD waters!

Tryin' To get To Heaven:  Loved it!  Reworked version as far as I
remember this is different than any other I've heard. Highlight for the
night in my opinion.  Bob sang it with meaning..

Honest With Me:  Thank God that "cat chasing it's tail" sound has been
removed but still don't need this song anymore.  Please Bob remove the fat
fro you setlists!

Tangled Up In Blue:  Had heard of a new version.  This was CERTAINLY the
worst version of Tangled I've heard. I starts out great because it sounds
like the acoustic New York Tapes version but OMG! The timing of his lyrics
made it unbearable!  You have to hear it to know what I'm talking about.. 
Easily the worst song of the night since it was a song the crowd was
waiting for. I had some friends out there in the crowd and they know I'm
big on Bob.  Talked them into going and I was cringing. Get the tape
you'll hear what I'm talking about.  

It's All Right Ma:  It was awesome, no holds barred..

Beyond Te Horizon:  "Sped Up Version"  You Can have it, again sound
quality in the Hall made this even less enjoyable.

Nettie Moore/Summer Days:  Nighty Night,  Summer Days can rock but not at
all why I listen to BD

Aint Talkin':  Excellent deliverance by Bob

Encores:  They are all good, but now we are expecting Bruce to join in:

Show ends:  Get this: we get to watch an obviously unhappy Bruce
Springsteen walk across the floor in front of the stage to let us know he
was there to play and was shut down.  Again, we were all saying that we
expected a lot of Bruce fans to be showing up in hopes of this and we did
not expect it to.  But after hearing about the rehearsals and watching
Bruce stroll out of the building in front of us, you couldn't help but
feeling pissed at Bob.  That's how tonight was.  Not a great Bob night and
he blew off Bruce.  Goodnight.


Review by Peter Stone Brown

Asbury Park, New Jersey is kind of a strange place, as if it's in another
zone of the universe or something, and if Bruce Springsteen hadn't sung
about it, it would be relegated to being some lost, once grand town of the
Jersey Shore.  It's easy to see why Tony Soprano dreamed about it, and I
wanted to find the probably non-existent Boardwalk fish market where Big
Pussy turned into a talking fish and offered his confession but that
happened.  On the not-so-long drive down I-195, the radio was blasting the
news with all the criminals in their coats and ties, or maybe not ties,
and probably not coats either talking about how Russia had the audacity to
invade another country, I kept thinkin' it might be fun if Bob suddenly
resurrected "Talkin' World War III Blues," or whipped up a swing
instrumental version of "Marching Through Georgia," kind of like when he
opened some shows a long time ago with "The Marine Hymn," but I new none
of those things were gonna happen.  Anyway, I found a reasonably close
free parking space in some of some depressed bowling alley and got hustled
by some old street hustler who promised he'd make sure my 14 year old car
was safe and wanted to know who Bob Dylan was and headed up the street to
Madame Marie's and ended up in some too classy restaurant and never
bothered to find the ghost of Big Pussy's fish head.

Now I'd actually been to the Asbury Park Convention Hall before, a few
centuries ago to see The Band - and even then it was kind of a strange
place for them to play, but I remember Asbury Park being a lot more
lively.  This was back in the years of no live Dylan and The Band were the
next best thing.  Anyway after hanging out on the Boardwalk chatting with
this guy, I met years ago at Hammerstein Ballroom and have run into at
various Bob shows ever since, we decided to go in which meant getting in
line to get a totally useless wristband.  The security guys shouted out
the usual no cameras, no recording equipment, but they didn't search
anyone and so we proceeded to the balcony.  Convention Hall really isn't
that big and has pretty cool art deco chandeliers.  

Anyway our seats were on the side of the stage where you could see Bob and
the guitar tech was tuning up some not to be used Fender Telecaster with
an F-hole, which he laid on top of two amps in front of the drum kit.

Not long after we sat down a row of never ending talkers sat down right
behind us.  

At 8:25, the lights went down and Dylan and his band took the stage to a
rather blurry, indecipherable introductory announcement.  I knew what it
said anyway, but it was a sign of things to come.  Dylan kicked into a not
bad "Rainy Day Women," with the audience shouting out "Everybody must get
stoned," but to put it simply, the sound sucked.  It was just a blur of
noise, with the drumbeats echoing off the walls, so you'd hear each
drumbeat at least twice.  

It wasn't much better for what seemed like a cool version of "It Ain't Me
Babe," and Dylan seemed to be really singing, but all kinds of noise was
reverberating all around, along with the never ending talkers chatting
away about whatever and the other people in our row deciding to finally
show up.

The sound got a tad bit better for "Rollin' And Tumblin' " and "Spirit In
The Water" and sometime during this all the people who had just taken
their seats decided they'd go out and get drinks.

Donnie put on his banjo and they started into a pretty charged "High
Water" with Bob changing his phrasing a bit.  Under better circumstances
it would have been intense.  Next came "Tryin' To Get To Heaven," which
was also good, and this point the people who left for drinks decided to
return.  Once upon a time people knew to wait until the end of the song to
go back to their seat, but those days are long gone with the general
erosion of society.  And of course the never ending talkers who also went
out and came back continued talking as if they were in their living rooms.
 Actually they were talking louder than in their living rooms.  Telling
them nicely to shut up didn't work.  There's some songs that you really
shouldn't talk during and "Tryin' To Get To Heaven" is one of them.  It
wasn't too long ago that Bruce Springsteen did a tour, a solo acoustic
tour, his fans refer to as the "Shut The Fuck Up Tour" where you could not
enter during a song and he even said from the stage, "If someone next to
you is talking, you can tell them to shut the fuck up."

Meanwhile, Dylan was playing "Honest With Me," and the sound while a
little better was still bouncing all over the room.  Then Stu started the
acoustic intro to "Tangled Up In Blue," and Dylan early in the song got
into that chanting whatever the hell it is he does on this song now, and
took it to extreme levels.  On one hand, it's kind of funny, but on the
other, it gets ridiculous especially when it goes on for several verses.

The banjo reappeared, and a blistering version of "It's Alright Ma," came
next with Dylan totally leaning into the song, clearly making every word
count, and Denny delivering an excellent solo.  The talkers, tired of
talking with each other pulled out cell phones and started calling people
to talk to them.  At this point the scene from "Godfather 1," where
Michael Corleone's hitmen burst into Phillip Tattaglia's hotel room with
machine guns kept entering my mind as the rest of the audience was
cheering the "even the president of the United States" line.  

"Beyond The Horizon" which might have been appropriate if this was an
outside show with the ocean behind the stage came next, and while the
sound of Bob's organ echoed the carousel the opposite end of the
boardwalk, it just didn't work.  For whatever reason, more often that not,
this song just does not come together onstage.  

"Highway 61" came next and one of the talkers decided to bellow out some
of the lyrics, so at least one of them sort of had some sort of an inkling
why they were there.  

A very strong rendition of "Nettie Moore" came next, during which a whole
lot people decided it was time to get drinks again.  This was followed by
a fairly typical "Summer Days," where most of the vocal tricks Dylan had
tried on the song in Philly were lost in the non-acoustic haze of the

The main part of show ended with a truly, stunning, perfectly delivered
"Ain't Talkin' " with every chilling aspect of that song totally intact. 
Of course all the people who went out for drinks during "Nettie Moore,"
decided to return in the middle of it.  

After the usual wait, Dylan returned for a not bad "Like A Rolling Stone,"
with the audience chanting out the chorus, followed by an insanely speedy
"Thunder On The Mountain," and a reasonably good "Blowin' In The Wind."  

Of course at this point, since everyone was clapping the never ending
talkers, conditioned to clap at the end of the show, clapped to, at which
point my friend Max said, "Why are you clapping?  You didn't listen to a
single song."  This caused one of the non-listening husbands to follow Max
down the stairs, but some local hero intervened.

Asides from having a hard time believing some people were ever alive, I
have a hard time understanding why people will pay a lot of money to see a
show and not pay attention to any of it.  They could've stayed home and
watched a home renovation reality TV show or something, and probably
would've paid a lot more attention to a designer talking about polished
nickel plated faucets or something.  But such is life in modern times.

Outside on the boardwalk, fireworks were going off over the ocean and
people were talking about how Bruce Springsteen was watching the show from
the floor behind a black curtain and made his escape at show's end.  We
made it back to the depressed bowling alley where the same street hustler
again tried to hustle us, and in the murky at times foggy night, away we
did drive.  Sure was glad to get out of there alive.  


Review by Iris Seifert

All of it was meant to be, once again, as if being led by a leash.

To start, I don't know why people keep going to Bob Dylan's shows if they
just wish to bring the man down afterwards with negativity. What happened
to the advice to speak or hold your peace, and speak meaning only if you
can say it nicely? Even if it is critical, it can still be delivered
politely. And then, even having gone only to a few shows since last years'
July, it seems obvious to me that Mr. Dylan does his thing, and that is
usually not influenced by what everybody expects. So, to keep shouting
'Bruce' - which sounded like BOOO really - seemed totally inappropriate.
Or for people to shout song requests and the like - when did that ever
come to fruition? And that from veterans who either tape every show
themselves, or get a recording from others. In my humble opinion: Bob
Dylan does not need Bruce Springsteen to add to his show, and if it was
considered, it has to feel right, and perhaps it didn't; one can always
buy a ticket for Bruce Springsteen, but don't we all want everything for
free? By the way, it did sound like someone was playing saxophone for a
few bars during the transition to Nettie Moore, I believe it was, as Mr.
Heron was warming up the violin. Or was that just playing around with

That off my chest, here we go, leaving the more technical analysis to the

At last warm waves undulating feet walking the space where time ends, sand
pipers and sea gulls running to and fro to catch dinner, a little girl
playing in a protected tide pool, some young man playing "Visions of
 Johanna" among friends grouped in a cluster. He was not bad at all
imitating Mr. Dylan's early sound.  He even used his harmonica on a rack
similar to his apparent hero; walking past the building which proved to be
the venue judging from the huge line of people cued up, a rare glimpse at
Mr. Kimball walking on the balcony; could not stop my naive self from
raising my hand and waving like a little girl. He waved back in the same
naive reflex.

But then tonight Mr. Kimball was definitely more distinctly audible, and
he played some nice solos to my great surprise in High Water, and when
apparently a string broke on Mr. Freeman's guitar, he picked up the pace;
but also a reason occurred to me why to be close to the stage: to actually
see the musicians play, because then their line does come out of the mix
more than just hearing a blur. But on a side note, to discount the role of
Mr. Kimball as the rhythm guitarist, what would happen if did not play?
The songs would feel empty, lacking background texture, and that texture
is rich because of Mr. Kimball. It's just like listening to a professional
choir made up from people with solo voices - it's more rich in sound than
just having good singers.

Mr. Freeman had an incredible night and did some very creative solos, much
to the delight of Mr. Dylan it seemed, who himself did some fancy organ
playing and nice harmonica. And George Recile was very good, not as usual,
but even better (the other Dylan pros confirmed these perceptions after
the show).

People after the show riding back in the train to NY discussed many
things, among others that the sound had been muddy, and that in the middle
of the main floor, and even near the mix board. Again, where I stood on
the very left side (mostly because the view was almost completely blocked
from my seat), the sound was actually not bad at all. But again, that
could be due to the visual impression of the musicians.

One thing is for sure: Mr. Dylan's voice sounded, and not just in a few
songs, it was perhaps the compilation of the set list that had mostly
songs that are not just chosen to please the crowd, or many other factors.
Special thanks for Trying to get to Heaven, Spirit on the Water, Beyond
the Horizon and Nettie Moore. Super.

And, of course, again, the best was saved for last on the main set. That
faster version of Ain't talkin' was delivered wonderfully. Personally
though, the slower and mellow, haunting earlier version is more effective,
but this version tonight fit more with the energy of the show.

The same encores as the night before, after Mr. Dylan walked out for a
well deserved victory lap on the front of the stage. And all of the
encores just kept soaring to close with a poignant harp solo.

And then: gone. One more day and night filled with delights. The fireworks
to close the night was a great idea to deviate everyone to the other side
of the building opposite to where the 'great escape' was planned. It is
nice to just sit (I had to wait for my lap top battery to be returned to
me) and observe all the commotion in these so very different worlds.

The heart always a bit blue.

PS: Thanks to Donnie and Ellen (spelling?) for the ride to the train
station after the show, and for the pleasant conversation on the train to
NY with John, Mike and Sam(antha?).


Review by Michael Perlin

*A Double Shot of My Bobby's Love...*

I've seen Dylan twice over a three day period, and over a four day period,
but never, until this past week, on back-to-back nights: Tuesday in
Brooklyn and Wednesday in Asbury Park. The snapshot version: OK set lists,
great band energy, totally redone arrangements, and more evidence that
Bobby just keeps on keepin' on... and most likely always will.

Tuesday added Brooklyn to my borough life list. Prospect Park, a great
venue. Our seats were row A (don't get too excited; that was about 8 rows
back), slightly left of center, three seats from Geraldo Rivera, who, when
I looked over, did seem to know all the words. This was my first BD
concert in almost two years (Philly, Nov 06), and that is the longest gap
for me since before 1994. I was disappointed that he has retired the
guitar again (for good? Who knows), and, if I were given a polygraph, I'd
concede that a full night of keyboard is *not *as alive, as immediate or
as passionate as a night with at least *some* guitar. But, I remain
grateful that, at age 67, the joker had not been relegated to the

Awaiting the concert, in line, we heard the soundcheck set (*sans* Bobby)
: Sweet Marie > This Wheel's on Fire > My Back Pages > High Water. If
only... Concert was sposed to start at 7; it started at 8:30. Is there
*anyone* else in the world I would have patiently sat 90 minutes awaiting?
Maybe Bruce and maybe Petty, but that's the long list version. The band
was the same as it's been for several years, and embedded in that phrase
are some positives and some less-than-positives. Basketball fans are
familiar with the "box and one" defense; the band struck me (more in
Brooklyn than in Asbury, but to some extent there as well) as a "box and
two": Bobby, George, Tony & Donnie, in the heart, on one hand; Stu and
Denny on the outside, as the other. Tony has been Bob's Cal Ripken for 15
years, and is the main reason the band cooks the way it does. Winston
Watson remains my favorite post-Levon Helm drummer of Bob's, but George's
performances these two nights were nothing short of spectacular. Donnie's
work on steel pedal, uke, banjo, violin et al adds a texture that has
become even more necessary since the demise of Bob's guitar (am I the only
person who remembers the portion of the 05 tour on which Elana played
violin, and who hopes against hope to see her back with the band?). But,
during the entire night, there were two moments in which I thought Denny's
solos made an authentic contribution. And, how do I say this nicely: I am
yet to figure out whatever difference there is between Stu's playing and
the playing of a dozen or a 100 guys doing covers in bar bands. But,

There were, as I indicated earlier, lots of new arrangements.* *Until I
heard the first words of *North Country,* I did not have the remotest idea
what it was going to be (my notes are blurred now [why I shouldn't wait
five days to write these up], but I was sure it was a *Modern Times* song,
most likely *Nettie Moore* (which, of course, came later). The new
arrangement of *It's Alright Ma* was also new, but contextually, it was
pretty easy to figure out what it was going to be before we heard the
first words. On the other hand, all of the *Modern Times (*and* Love and
Theft*) songs were basically live versions of the released cuts. The high
points of the night were *John Brown* and *Masters of War*, both musically
and politically. Here was Bob, in Brooklyn (hmm.. How far was he from
Montague Street??), with an audience as blue state as he'll ever get, and
he hammered home the reminder that we do, indeed, live in a political
world. (The special crowd roars on the other numbers came at the
predictable points: at "I'm over the hill" on *Spirit*, at "I'm in a
cowboy band" in *Nettie* and in "...must stand naked" in *It's Alright.
*But it was sustained for most of *John Brown*, and more so, during

Maybe some day he'll retire *Summer Days* (Alex, our son, points out that
maybe he just likes to *play* it, and I guess that might be). And since at
least we were spared *Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee*, I guess I shouldn't
complain. But, when there is *so* much to choose from, why, why, why?
Since we had a long trip home to Trenton ahead of us, we left after
*LARS,*figuring that I would get to hear the expected encores the next
night. As it is, we opened the garage door at 1 a.m., so it was probably a
good decision.

Wednesday, I got to Asbury Park very early, and walked on the boards. This
was a nostalgia moment for me; when I was a little boy, my parents used to
take me to the Asbury Park boardwalk from Perth Amboy, where we lived, all
the time. I saw my first rock and roll concert at Convention Hall in 1959
when I dragooned my cousin Terry (who was then 17 [I was 13]) into taking
me to see The Platters. And I had not been back since. So this was a
double memory lane trip for me. I wound up at the very front of the
General Admission line, and, as a result, we (not with Linda tonight, but
with our friend Susan, who is a Monmouth County girl by birth) were on the
rail just in front of Stu. Again, the 7 pm start was delayed 90 minutes.
Grumble (more so, b/c we were standing). I've read lots of complaints
about the acoustics, but from that perspective, I didn't find it
problematic at all. Or maybe I've just gotten so used to the sound that I
didn't notice.

The setlist was less inspired than the Tuesday setlist, I think, but I
found the concert musically more interesting (mostly that's a positive,
but not entirely). It occurred to me for the 1000th time on the subway on
the way back to Penn Station (the F to Borough Hall, changed to the C;
worked like a dream) that the ethos of Bob's music can be collapsed into
one thought and one lyric: the thought was expressed first by Verdi – in
music, passion is all. The passion – and even more, the *tension*, in
Bob's music – is what makes it worth going back time after time (for those
reading this who don't know me, my first Bob experience was at Gerde's in
May 1963...). And the lyric– "he not busy being born/is busy dying" – is
my life's mantra. So, the incessant reworking of the songs –while
certainly aggravating and exasperating on one level – means that the
concerts are never going to be museum pieces. And that also, always makes
it worthwhile.

This time, his enunciation on *RDW* was far more pronounced "be (pause)
all (pause) alone". Like that. *It Ain't Me Babe*, again, for me a totally
new arrangement, was a kind of waltz/reggae rhythm. *Spirit* was, in part,
a kind of march (and here was Denny's first notable guitar work of the
night, and there was far more of that in this concert than in Brooklyn ,
which is a very good thing). I cannot begin to describe the new version of
*Tangled*(which, of course, I was totally blindsided by): the verses were
step-by-step talking down lines in an almost nursery rhyme pattern (a
friend said it reminded him of an Irish jig.. Maybe...). And after the
"Said to me/ `Don't I know your name?'" line, he ad libbed, "I don't think
you do," which I maybe recall from an earlier version? It was fascinating
to hear once, but maybe the next time, it'll be back to the 2002 version
when Larry (sigh!) was playing lead guitar (yeah, right... ) *Trying to
Get to Heaven* was a high pont; all the emotion of the original came
through like a laser. Again, throughout, the work of both Tony and George
was propulsive, dynamic and inspired. On *Summer Days*, George was
incendiary (there is no other word).

The musical high point of both nights was *Ain't Talking*. Chilling.
Chilling. Chilling (and Donnie's violin was spectacular). That alone made
the night worthwhile. *LARS *was fine, *Thunder* rocked, and then came
again, an entirely new version of *Blowin'* (for which I was prepared),
which, for the first 32 bars or so easily could have been Smoky and the
Miracles doing *You Really Got a Hold on Me*. Contextually, I think it
worked, tho no doubt it disappointed a lot in the audience hoping for
something that approximated the 1963 version.

We noticed Patti Smith off to the right of where we were standing, and
kept hoping she would join Bob for yet another encore. Alas, no (their
singing *Dark Eyes* together at the Electric Factory) remains one of my
strongest concert memories). Sigh...

I can't figure out how much I should obsess about setlists (though I still
had two "firsts" (*Beyond the Horizon* in Bklyn and *Ain't Talking* in
AP)). I saw the list from Foxwoods and from Atlantic City, and they were
like gutshots to me (*Johanna! Tambourine! Chimes!)* But I know,
realistically, that the versions probably were as altered as the versions
of *North Country* and *Tangled*. And I'da sang along in that
weird-trying-to-keep-up way that we all do when a new arrangement is
unveiled. And Bobby looked absolutely happy at both concerts I saw
(smiling, laughing, clowning around,, dancing a bit [I wouldn't believe it
either]). And maybe that went hand-in-glove with the less unusual set
list. But still....

So, again, OK set lists, some great music, and throughout, great energy,
great urgency and great what Linda tells me is called "suchness" (a
Buddhist term meaning, more or less, "the appreciation of reality within a
unique moment.")That's what it was. And that's why I'm already looking
forward to the spring tour.

Thank you, Bob.


Review by Brian Slattery

After my Brooklyn experience, where I didn’t see the concert, but I did 
manage to see Bob up close and personal before and after the show, I 
made my way to Asbury Park, Bruce country, for the third of five shows 
I’d be seeing this  go-around.  So far, Bob was on point.  His song 
selection hadn’t been surprising, but his performances had been amazing; 
so I happily traveled down the shore, where to borrow from Bruce who 
borrowed from Tom Waits, ‘everything’s all right.’ Having met up with my
friend and fellow Bobster in good standing, Walter, at Newark Penn
Station, we spent the train ride down to  Asbury Park talking about all
things  Dylan.  I didn’t know it at the time, but many of the things we
talked about regarding Bob’s live shows came to pass at the next show,
when he continually surprised and amazed the audience, straying far from
the standard sets that he’d been playing.  But that was in the future,
and at that  moment, I wasn’t living in the future (to borrow again from
Bruce); I was living in the here and now, energized after the Philadelphia 
and Brooklyn shows, confident that even if Bob’s set list was predictable, 
the performances would be exceptional. It’s only my opinion, I could be 
right or wrong, but I think the performances met and exceeded my 
expectations.  I heard some people complain about bad sound in the 
venue, but from where we sat, we could hear everything perfectly.
The venue itself was one  of the funkier places I’ve seen a Bob show.
It looked like an over-sized high school gymnasium.  I was expecting a 
juggling act and maybe a tap dancer to end the ‘talent show’ portion
of the evening before the ‘main attraction.’ Luckily, there was none
of that.  It was all Bob.  (Bruce made an appearance but didn’t
perform.) I won’t do a song-by-song account; you can check the site
for the exact set list, and if you’ve been following the set lists, there 
weren’t many changes/differences.  The change was gonna come, 
but it was two nights away in the Connecticut woods.  In the moment, 
we were treated to a great “It Ain’t Me, Babe,” a pleading “Tryin’ To 
Get To Heaven,” a jazzy, strong “Tangled Up In Blue,” and a driving,
powerful “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only  Bleeding).”  “Ain’t Talkin” was  
apocalyptic, or perhaps post-apocalyptic, as ever, and the encores 
were well-performed and well-received.   At the end of “Blowin’ in 
the Wind,” Bob and the boys stood at the front of the stage, Bob 
pointing to the audience and soaking up the applause.  As he
left the stage, the cry of  ‘Bruce!’ went up, and Walter saw Bruce
being escorted back-stage.  For a second I thought Bob and Bruce were
going to share the stage for another encore, but the lights came up, and 
the show ended. We left the venue as fireworks hailed over Little Eden,
and we made the next train thanks to a Dylan-loving cab driver, who got
us to the station with a few minutes to spare, playing “Someday Baby”
for us on the ride over. On the trip up north, we talked with some young
Dylan fans, who really knew their stuff, and were thrilled, like us, to have 
seen Bob in such great form. My mind focused on the upcoming two
shows I would be attending.  I didn’t know why, but I felt like something 
special was going to happen.  My expectations were high for the MGM 
Grand show. You can read my review of that show.  Or if you don’t
have the time or inclination to read it, you simply can read the set
list.  It alone should indicate how my  expectations were met, 
surpassed, and shattered.

If you have any questions or comments, or just want to talk
‘Bob’, get in  touch.  You can reach me at dylanfan522@aol.com_
Also, you can check out the NYC Dylan Meetup page on Myspace. 

Keep On Keepin’ On, 
Brian J.  Slattery


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