Review by Joe Cox
After following Dylan for 19 shows across seven states over 29 years, he turned up 15 minutes from my front door
in Bowling Green. I used to review every show with careful song-by-song analysis, but this is more just a general
series of impressions.
It was Bob's first time in Bowling Green and at my seat, I heard multiple people discussing "his movie" as if A
Complete Unknown was a reliable biography. I doubt Bob minds a little more baffling and confusing. The crowd
seemed accepting, even if there were plenty of mild followers who were probably a bit baffled by the setlist.
First, no intro. At all. I miss Al Santos, but Anton Fig just starts bashing out the beat, on comes Tony thumping the
bass, the guitarists, and Bob, clad in a white hoodie that looked to me like he might be wearing a baseball cap
underneath.
The two mics dilemma is real. One is set on the floor and Dylan uses it to sing when sitting at his electric piano.
The other is elevated and he sings into it when he stands (or more accurately, slightly kneels). Dylan would reliably
grab and move the floor mic, but the other one, he would only bat at it like a mildly peeved cat, so he can wander
off mic or bat his way off mic.
"To Be Alone With You" was pretty garbled lyrically, but one thing that did come through clear in the first verse
was "(something something) you're alive/well, baby, I'm alive too!" "Long Black Coat" locked in much tighter and
featured some genuinely adventurous singing.
Over the course of the evening, the two acoustic guitarists played everything from tasteful fills to straight rhythm
to some impressively jagged leads. Fig fits well, and Tony is the rock he's always been. Bob's piano is still there in
the mix and the band plays carefully to his vocals rather than over them.
"I Contain Multitudes" in its current arrangement sounded a little like "Shelter From the Storm." "Black Rider" was a
standout, even if Dylan sounded a little rueful as he held forth on the irrelevance of cock size. The back-to-back
pairing of "I've Made Up My Mind" and "Crossing the Rubicon" really cooked, with the latter providing probably the
strongest performance of the night, complete with jarring thumping drum-and-guitar breaks. As usual, it seems,
songs that I didn't particularly get excited about on a setlist stood out massively in performance.
"Masterpiece" was deep and thoughtful, complete with a smooth harmonica outro from Bob. "Nervous Breakdown"
felt like good clean fun-- the kid from the Golden Chords still jamming out for all he's worth.
"Every Grain of Sand" really is a perfect closer. Even if Bob avoided the ancient footsteps to close the show,
sometimes temptation's angry flame (which he invoked twice) might feel a bit more vivid. And maybe it's an
accident that he dropped "People don't live or die/People just float" from "Long Black Coat." But maybe it's not.
Nearly four decades into the Never Ending Tour, Dylan remains valid and relevant. So does his fan base, often
reinvented, some seeking curiosity off "his movie" and some the lifelongers whom I talked with, remembering
shows from 1986 or 1988 or in my case, 1997. I turned 17 two months before my first Bob show. My daughter is
now about to turn 17, and I'm creeping up toward being as old as he was back in 1997.
Perhaps the lyrical swap from Bowling Green in "Every Grain of Sand" is because of something that Dylan shares in
a funny way with his fans. For me, since 1997 when I saw that first show in Knoxville, it's never felt like I turned
and it was only me. That canon of music and a vast memory worth of spectacular live performances have gone
with me, as I hope they have with many of you reading this. I'm still alive, and baby, he is too. And if he applauds
every audience at the end of the show briefly, as he did in Bowling Green, maybe (I hope) he's feeling it too.
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