This morning I saw that Davenport was home to "The World's Largest Spoon
Museum." Does Davenport know how to party or what? Gary, Maddy and I
headed over to it in the morning, as we had heard reports that hanging
around Davenport for a while was better than getting to Peoria too early,
but it turns out that the World's Largest Spoon Museum is closed on
Wednesdays. And they'd come all the way from England!  

So, with tears in our eyes, we drove back into downtown Davenport and had
a plate of deep fried Oreos that couldn't be beat. These two are getting a
true American experience on this tour: Maddy has never been in the states,
and this tour of minor league ballpark towns (all AA or below, no less) is
a very odd way to experience the country (to say nothing of what's going
on in the news these days). But I know people who've lived here all their
lives and haven't been to as many states as she has in the last couple of
weeks.  

Also, she can now even say that she's been to Peoria, which even most
people I know in Illinois can't say. I've certainly never been here, and
I've never had anyone suggest that I check it out, as they might do with,
say, Galena.  On the road to town we tried to look up some Peoria songs,
and it turns out the most famous one is about a sailor wishing he was back
in Peoria when his ship starts to sink. So, the lesson is that being in
Peoria is better than being a shipwreck. Hardly a ringing endorsement.

But one thing you can say for this town is that it has a lot of parking.
There are lots and garages everywhere downtown, far more parking spaces
than they could possibly need for the available attractions. It's not the
kind of downtown where you have many dining options after 4pm, but parking
lovers: here's your dream.  

Mike and Henry, my usual partners in Dylan-related crime, joined me in the
venue, a 2000 seat early 1980s civic center that I had guessed would be
from the late 70s; it just has that "lots of brown, and slightly more wood
panel than is really necessary" quality to it. Before the show I remarked
that it looked like it had good acoustics, but might be one of those
places that are just made to LOOK that way.  

Well, I'm pleased to report it was the best sound I've heard all tour, and
that the show was excellent. Maybe not as consistently great or surprising
as Davenport (not as much guitar or harmonica), but the highs were even
higher.

Bob Dylan and the Four Men in Hats wandered in and Bob began to sing "I'll
Be Your Baby Tonight" in near darkness. It was only a line or so in that
the curtains were lit up in yellow, and a second later that the stage
lights came on. It was a pretty cool effect, a visual match for the way
the songs these days open with a bit of cacophony, emerging as order from
chaos.   

As it's been doing this tour, the long "It Ain't Me Babe" guitar section
roughly followed the melody and chorus of the song, like a Grant Green
rendtion of "It Ain't Me Babe." (not that Bob is playing jazz guitar on
the level of Grant Green, but you get the idea).  

The show picked up with a great "Masterpiece" (such creative harp lately!)
and then moved into high gear with a terrific "Black Rider" that featured
elegant piano notes, like a skeleton just learning to play the xylophone
and trying to get it just right. The piano playing in general has been a
bit more careful and deliberate lately.  

But things REALLY took off with "My Own Version of You." I remember
watching the last London performance and thinking "This is going to be on
‘best-of' lists for years." Tonight might have been even better. It
really told a story tonight: in the first verse the speaker had the vibe
of "Fools! I'm sick of all these versions of you. I don't need you. I'll
create my OWN version of you!" Then he muses about how he could do it, and
gradually gains in confidence as he realizes he could actually do this,
and eventually goes mad with power. I kept picturing Mr. Burns or the
Grinch, but though there was definitely a humorous aspect, ending with
promising to "do it…with tears" was chilling. It was like he was singing
directly to the person who was going to be replaced by his own version of
them.  

Sometimes after a particularly "narrative" rendition of that song I'm
struck by the idea that the next song, "To Be Alone With You," is sung to
the creature he's just made. Not tonight. Tonight it seemed like he was
singing to the "you" who was being replaced by the new version, a cat
playing with its prey until the time was right to strike.  For this song
Doug played electric and Bob Britt played acoustic, a rare switch. 

"Rubicon" had more good guitar (the only bonus guitar song of the night),
and "Key West" was dreamy and wistful. The smattering of applause he's
gotten for saying "Gulf of Mexico" latey (instead of changing it to "Gulf
of America") grew to an absolute ROAR tonight. Tony seemed to be cracking
up onstage after the reaction to that line, and the cheers may have been
what led Bob to introduce the band after "Key West," barely midway through
the show, instead of later.  

After giving the list of people Doug Lanciso had played with ("The Boss,"
"The Rocketman," "The Great Macca,") Bob added "None of those people play
songs like this; that's why he's in THIS band now." Tony, again, was
cracking up.  "Desolation Row" was a bit of a mess tonight - no guitar,
and the Monk-like piano seemed messier than usual. But even so, I had that
thing happen where you suddenly think of a new way to understand a line.
After the line about someone telling Romeo he had to leave, the next line
is "The only sound that's left after the ambulances go." So... Romeo and
whoever told him to leave must have beaten the crap out of each other.  I
never thought about the ambulances being a continuation of that exchange,
but in a movie you'd show the person saying "You better hurry up and
leave," then a zoom-in on Romeo furrowing his brow... Then you cut to a
few minutes later, when the ambulances are driving off, leaving Cinderella
to sweep up the aftermath). Now that I've thought of it it seems so
obvious that I was a bit relieved to share this idea later and not have
people say "Well, duh."  

We all wonder how much Bob really plans this stuff when he's writing. I've
been through enough drafts in Tulsa to know he puts a LOT of work into
these songs, and I maintain that he knew what he was doing when he put "I
Contain Multitudes" on the top of the tracklist, as much a warning label
as a song title ("Eat Me," "Drink Me," "I Contain Multitudes.") But I also
think that part of why he keeps coming out and singing these songs is that
he's excited to see what else he can find by singing them one more time,
too. I'm sure sometimes he's as surprised as we are.  

Another true highlight of the night was the coda of "Baby Blue." The whole
song was strong, but the piano part in the coda sounded so intricate and
lovely that we wondered if they'd rehearsed a whole new outro.   

"Jimmie Reed" is perhaps the song that Anton Fig has helped the most.
After times when it sort of limped along, it's a regular toe-tapper now,
and has a bit of a darker edge. The closing harp on "Every Grain of Sand"
continues to be a killer way to end the night.  

After some time in a nearby bar that had a Johnny Cash slot machines with
Sue, Peter, and Mark (you see a lot of slot machines in Peoria), Gary,
Maddy, and I made our way to the hotel and ordered a pizza from Slice
Express, the only place an app showed us as still being open after
midnight in town on either side of the Illinois River.  

Now, Peoria may be the kind of town that could be livened up considerably
if someone opened up the World's Largest Spoon Museum here, but  Maddy
said Slice Express was the best pizza she'd ever had. And every now and
then, Bob Dylan plays here. So Peoria has that going for it. And that's
something.

Adam Selzer