Thanks again all for your condolences, felt good to have some extra hugs
even if just virtual. Yesterday was such an strange and unforgettable day;
we got up in Eureka Springs, a victorian-esque little town in the Ozarks
northwest of Arkansas, a bit western village and alpine town mix, quite a
beautiful setting for setting off. My uncle, who is quite an experienced
hiker, would love it. We had the plan of visiting the Crystal Bridges
Museum of American Art on our way to Springfield, mainly because they have
an actual 1954 usonian Frank Lloyd Wright house (the Bachman-Wilson
house), originally located in New Jersey and relocated completely in the
museum in 2014; also, because the entire thing it's free! A few minutes
before our timed entry tickets to get in the house, I saw a Whatsapp
message from my mom, and just reading the first few words I knew what it
was coming. I bluntly told my partner in Spanish and our fellow English
travelling friend what had happened and they, super understandably, said
that we could pass on the house. For sure that was not going to happen, I
kind of locked the news away and we headed to FLW's house.

Of course I won't bother you with the details but it's such an incredible
house, is not that big but every decision taken in it's design and
construction has a profound and dignifying meaning to the idea of enliving
and space and its relationship with the surroundings. The house's main
space is a mesmerizing living room with a floor made of large red glazed
concrete tiles (a color the architect called "Cherokee red") that easily
resemble the Rothko painting the museum has in display nearby. We were
alone for most of the time at the house, and of course at one point,
looking at the trees beneath the large beautiful and on the verge of
dissolving glass windows, the passing of my grandmother started to sink in
and the locked news got away quite a bit. I gathered myself and finished
the visit of a house that in some way feels like a secular sanctuary.
Afterwards I called my mom, who was delighted when I told here where I was
when I heard the news, as it reminded us of our quite moving visit to
Fallingwater last year, and we talked quite a bit, we made each other cry
here and there and on we went to Springfield, just stoppoing at a Wendy's
for my first time ever and having the treat of intoxicating myself with a
cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper and a burger called 'Baconator'.

Fortunately I managed to get an accomodation in Springfield within a
couple of minutes walking of the venue, so of course the plan was to rest,
head with some time to get our mezzanine tix at will call and enjoy the
show to the best of my abilities. Maybe because despite some of you here
know me personally but most don't and in any case this is an anonymous
plaza, I guess that also because I've posted about personal stuff here and
there in the reviews and as a kind of humble homage, I posted about my
grandma's passing, nothing else. A few minutes later I received a PM from
ecoutez offering me a front row ticket he could not use as he wasn't
attending the show in the end. Last year, writing a few lines about the
Memphis shows, I wrote: "I don't quite believe in destiny, but I believe
in narrow ways." I'm still unsure about how to feel about what happened,
just want to say that, ecoutez, I hope that incredible gesture is balanced
by good karma towards you in great quantities.

I took the offering and I just want to thank ecoutez from the core of my
soul because that seat and that proximity to Bob allowed me to, in a way,
feel more intensely some moments and think about her and my uncle much
more profoundly, so in a narrow way I was able to attend her funeral in
the end. In the middle of Missouri, somehow, they just let me be.

Also, it was so amazing arriving to that front row, dead center seat, and
surprise myself to find that I was side by side with another lovely bobcat
I just met for the first time a couple of days ago in Tulsa. We quite
rocked the first row and Bob surely had a couple of looks our way (I would
say mainly in 'Rubicon' and 'Mother of Muses', specially in that one it
was quite something) and also nice nods during the final salute.

All my selfish fan took the better off me when during the first couple of
songs I couldn't even focus too much because Bob kept totally seated so he
was literally invisible and then a strange image appeared before me: from
my point of view, the big black piano looked like a coffin, adding more
surreal implications to an already surreal day. It gave me the vibe of
Dreyer's movie 'Vampyr' which, apart from being an absolute masterpiece,
features a crazy scene towards the end where a man's soul separates from
his body and observes his own funeral procession. It was funny that for
about ten minutes only thing of Bob I could see was his left hand when at
the beginning of 'It Ain't Me Babe' he played a few seconds the keyboard,
which was so refreshing to hear. Before that, 'Watchtower' included a
crazy extended opener jam with Bob heavy on guitar than just went quite on
and on for much longer than on previous nights. Anton Fig's sense and
drive of the beat keeps getting more prominent and deep, I love how
'serious' or 'ominous' song somes feel thanks to him; also, he forces Bob
to be more focused and usually prominent on vocals to match the drums.

Of course many lines resonated heavily last night, if you want the
specifics is as easy as to check the lyrics and I'm sure it will show, but
the somehow unexpected part was how much able I was to focus and enjoy the
show for itself, for its inherent quality and, as my seat companion put,
"crisp". I felt that had Abe been in Springfield he would have enjoyed the
show as it was a rockier one, more musically textured and driven even on
the slow numbers and even bordering heavy in the harder ones, like a
'False Prophet' or a 'Rubicon' (specially the latter one) that were
unbelievably stomping, and that unexpectedly brought me to some tears when
I felt somehow that my grandma was around in the lines "baby you're still
in my mind, I truly believe that you are, couldn't be anybody else but you
who've come with me this far".

The second Bob stood up for a very groovy 'Multitudes', I realised how
blessed (more on that a bit later) I was to have been offered that seat.
When some tears were not there to make it hard to see, the proximity of
Bob and all his facial expressions, his ability to toy with the language
almost at any given instant and at some points even being able to see the
purpose in his gaze were memories I fully intend to cherish forever.

Of course it was a bit difficult for me to focus on the performance itself
as much as other nights, but I had an overall feeling that it was the
first time that the concert resembled and specially remembered me the
Spring 2024 ones, for me the peak of Bob's touring since the pandemic, and
while I'm not saying it was up there with the best concerts I saw on that
leg it could belong around because of the piercing and energy conveyed.

I must confess I might have distracted Bob himself during 'Desolation Row'
as the song was progressing spectacularly and then I couldn't help myself
from bigly cheer the "or else expecting rain" line because if not for this
gathering place I would have never gotten so close to Bob in such an
special moment for me. I think he kind of looked my way and kind of seemed
surprised by the cheer, the sure thing is that he messed up the "good
samaritan" lines and instead sang the "pennywhistle" ones. If I was the
cause of the distraction, I simply apologise.

Finally a 'Key West' on this leg touched me as those great Liverpool or UK
2024 renditions. Stripped down but also textured up, last night's show
seemed a bit as if the emotion was the same but the revs were somehow
upped on the slower numbers. Anyway, I cried big time from "death is on
the wall" onwards, Bob kind of did hand gestures during the "thumb down"
lines and it was so damn beautiful, enhanced for sure for my situation but
truly moving nonetheless. I'm not sure if it was in 'Key West', during the
"Luxembourg and Budapest" line or in another song's line with an "and" but
on one of those Bob kept his mouth really opened for a few seconds, not
singing, and suddenly went "aaaaaaand". I think it may have been actually
during the "Salt Lake City and Birmingham" line in 'Made Up My Mind', he
stood up there lost in the stars, purposeful and purposeless altogether.

Of course it couldn't be any other song that 'Made Up My Mind' that broke
me totally but this time it was not a progression like 'Key West' but a
moment everyone in my situation could have foreseen. All was going well
since "lot of people gone, people I knew". I swear to God he sang those
words with a mesmerizing and tremendous intention, can't say if it was
more a lament or a curse but it was shattering. I gathered myself the best
I could and just rolled on.

What a nice surprise to enjoy such a danceable 'Mother of Muses'! After
more somber or hymn-ish takes, this one had an optimist quality into it, a
nymph in the forest gathering to enjoy and celebrate life and nature, like
in a Tiziano (yay Tiziano) or Rubens painting. It was such an incredible
moment, after all that too much sorrow, some time for joy.

I felt the show featured quite some rich bridges during songs or specially
piano driven codas, as was the case of an extended outro in 'Jimmy Reed'
that I hoped it could last forever, as I was starting to feel the end of
the show and how I came in in a pretty confused state and for a couple of
hours was giving me strenght and energy to the point that, afterwards, I
was positive it felt for quite one of the few times ever, as a shelter
from the storm. I realised I dreaded to see it ending, and during an
'Every Grain of Sand' that featured not only an incredibly sung second
verse, truly spectacular and where Bob did a very strange thing consisting
on deliberately waiting a few seconds to sing some lines after the beat,
as if he was composing the song in a whim or reflecting on the words
before outing them (the "onward on my journey" part hit me pretty hard"),
my mind was filled with some nice and not so nice images, as if reality
was preparing its way in in a few minutes.

Gladly, the last harp solo was as balsamic as it gets, specially when Bob
started it, then stop it to play piano in what it seemed to be the usual
ending of the song and then, suddenly, after a silence of just an instant,
he blew the harp again and delivered an outstanding moment of mercurial
truth, I don't know how else to put it, that in a way conveyed what words
can't, confuse or struggle to do, what seemed such a fitting ending for
such a surreal day.

This is a message I got from my uncle at midnight (6am in Barcelona) just
before I went to bed after the show: "If I have sacrificed myself for her,
I also know that she has done it for me, with all her limitations she has
always helped in whatever way she could, without any bad word or gesture.
I will always carry her gaze in my soul, it was of pure kindness. She died
sweetly, like when a leaf falls from a linden tree. I know that it must
also be very hard for you, as far away as you are, but the sadness you
feel is a sign that now, there, grandma is with you."