Review by Noel Mayeske
A masterclass in understatement.
The quiet, singular majesty of his persona - Nobel laureate in a hoodie playing
off-market cities with no songs a casual fan would recognize other than
"Watchtower" - cast a spell. It wasn't the show many thought they wanted.
But it was what we needed. In Macon, he offered the same mostly quiet songs
he's played in every show this year, punctuated by moments of dramatic
emphasis. The crowd of nearly 2,700 leaned in, rapt, even slack-jawed at
moments, to this subtle, strong presentation of storytelling genius.
To Macon's credit, it seemed to be an audience ready for what Dylan had to
offer: an obscure setlist by rock-legend standards, a series of mostly recent-ish
ruminations and declarations on love, death, self-determination, and fate
delivered in acoustic arrangements by a perfectly perceptive, adroit band. Each
song spoke for itself - it didn't need to be recognizable to non-diehards; the
suite of songs just needed to be heard, in this room - and to be of high quality.
Boy, was it.
The 101-year-old Macon City Auditorium (only 16 years older than Dylan!) is one
of those grand old venues from another time - stolid Doric limestone columns out
front, Beaux-Arts architecture, reputedly the world's largest copper dome - that
feels more courthouse than concert venue. The sound, though, is among the
best I've ever heard. Pin-drop perfection, at least from my second-row seat.
Every guitar strum, every word, perfectly audible. Big kudos to the soundboard
gal/guy - more on that in a minute.
This was the second time I've seen Dylan in Macon - land of Little Richard and
many other luminaries - the last time being his memorable 2018 gig. (He played
here the other time back in those unpredictable setlist days of '91.) This was my
24th Dylan concert - starting in Atlanta in 1989 - and almost immediately, from
Anton Fig's drum lick announced the show (rather startlingly), this felt like one
of the best, for me. Might even have been the best … I'll need to see how it
sits over time.
What made it so special?
SETLIST
Yeah, I said it! Perversely, this oddball setlist - omitting any of my favorite songs
prior to 2020 (!) - is a strength. Half the set is songs from 2009-present
(including 6 from 2020's Rough & Rowdy Ways), which keeps things much
fresher than any of his peers.
But it's more than just fresh (compared to his peers; the R&RW setlist itself has
of course been relatively static-ish since its inception in '21) - it's a setlist you
have to accept on its own terms, not wishing for surprises or favorite pre-2020
songs.
It's a setlist so devoid of serendipity that it confronts us: why are we here
anyway? Are we beholden to the Dylan of old? To a jukebox playing what we
want to hear, like the Stones have been doing for years? To just revel in his
primeval cool?
In Macon, we had almost none of that in the conventional sense. The setlist
kept the focus on the playing, the music, the words, the delivery. Here's the
bard, on this night, in this hall.
The setlist - not to mention his black-ballcap-under-white-hoodie obfuscation
of his image - diminished the star power and cult of personality, in the opposite
way in which he attempted to do that with Self Portrait in 1970. With Self
Portrait, he hid himself - or at least what we thought we knew - behind mostly
covers and dodgy live recordings.
Not here. The songs in this set are almost all his own (plus two fun covers): l
egit representations of his songwriting genius. If he were young and unknown,
that's all we'd be talking about - "What an amazing new songwriter!" As it is,
we tend to focus on the wrong things - I've been guilty of it - "Will he play my
favorite song?" "Why can't I see him very well?" "Does he always seem to
ignore the crowd?"
Why do that? This setlist includes some of his best songs ever, like Multitudes,
Black Rider, Crossing The Rubicon and I've Made Up My Mind. Other songs few
would call favorites - False Prophet, Goodbye Jimmy Reed, Soon After Midnight -
become part of the story in this setlist, admittedly mostly as mood pieces, but
performed so well that even they ranked high for me in this show.
The requirement for all phones to go in Yondr pouches added to the show's
appeal, as they had when I saw the Rough & Rowdy Ways tour two nights in a
row in Athens, Georgia in 2024. It's another way to diminish the cult of
personality and help us just listen. The man was almost secondary to his own art.
THE BAND
This is, after all, a band presentation, not Dylan solo. Credit to the band: Doug
Lancio on guitar at stage left, Tony Garnier eternally on bass (standup bass
almost the whole show) to the right of Doug, Anton Fig on drums at center
right, Bob Britt on guitar to the right; Dylan on small piano in the middle.
An interesting difference between Tony and Doug: the former is locked in on
Dylan all night long, almost every second. Doug was the opposite - almost never
looking at Bob, almost always looking right at his guitar.
The show featured more solos than I'm used to. Lots by Doug, some by Bob
Britt I believe (I couldn't see him due to a speaker at stage right), and Dylan
had more than a few piano solos. Lots of instrumental stretches in just about
all the songs. And all hail Anton Fig - perfect drummer for Dylan. He was
always where he needed to be, never too much or too little.
DYLAN'S VOCALS
Yeah, I said it! Casual fans love to rag on his vocal abilities, while we diehards
generally regard this as one of the most powerful parts of his art. His vocals in
Macon were clear as a bell, with his mastery of timing, phrasing, and sly lyrical
changes and even good enunciation making it easy to hear every word.
Dylan had a noticeable book of some sort on his keyboard - might be a
looseleaf notebook, the way he'd flip the pages. Must be the lyrics.
A sign of this spring tour has been - from reading reviews - Dylan bouncing
between standing and sitting all night. That was the case here - he'd often
stand and sing into the center mic, then mid-verse (even mid-word once or
twice, I think) impishly moving from that mic into a sitting position singing into
the other mic. It seemed very conscious, based on his facial expressions - I
think he was being a bit of a trickster with the soundman - but he/she was
perfectly in synch all night. Not a single issue with the mics - the soundman
tracked him all night, probably turning one on and the other off constantly.
The impulse to stand - for no hugely discernable reason musically, and it's not
a showbiz move in the conventional sense - seemed like a metaphor for this
whole phase of his career. Most folks his age are at home, in an easy chair.
Not Dylan - he wants to stand.
ACOUSTIC ARRANGEMENTS
The "unplugged" trend was decades ago, but it's worth revisiting. Most
rockers at Dylan's level treat acoustic arrangements as a small part of a larger
set. But so far in 2026, both guitars and the stand-up bass in his shows have
been acoustics. It's part of the set's intimacy and subtlety; but oddly enough,
in Macon it often created the space for more mini solos than I remember at
other Dylan shows in recent years.
Everything was plugged in for amplification of course, and on the first and
next-to-last songs, the drums were actually quite loud. But I'd call this an
acoustic show overall.
COOL CROWD
It helped to feel a symbiosis with the crowd. (Unlike, say, the bored talkers
during Dylan's "Outlaw Tour" sets in Atlanta I saw the last two years.) From
the corners of my eyes, I saw toes tapping, heads nodding, people voicing
the words, sporadic standing ovations. Respectful and "into it." No yells for
"Hurrrrricane!" or "RAWK!"
Maybe these shows in smaller cities help, because they don't get to see
him almost every year like we do in Atlanta. In recent weeks and the one
ahead, one can find him singing these quiet songs in Bowling Green,
Spartanburg, La Crosse, Sioux Falls, Dayton, Dothan, Tyler, Muncie, freakin'
Waukegan, man. Saginaw, Jackson, Abilene. These are the pearls on this
string. Beautiful little old theatres mostly, a couple thousand people each.
Many a city he's playing in is probably generally unaware of the event.
There was no marquee or signage outside the Macon City Auditorium
bearing his name. In fact, the tour is so low-key that I initially went to the
wrong venue - Macon Coliseum - just an hour before showtime, and
thought "Well, it's not LIKELY the exterior would be this quiet just before
he plays, but I still think this is the right place..." before I googled it and
went to the correct venue.
I asked the folks in the box office just before the show started if it was
sold out. "Almost - just a few seats left in the balcony!" they said.
Speaking of the crowd, met a cool fellow after the show as I was scanning
the stage for a reachable setlist - Mike of @unraveling creature on
Instagram. He makes hand-made setlists of shows with construction paper
with typewriter setlists glued on and gave me one from Dylan's recent
Spartanburg show that he'd attended. What a cool memento.
GREAT SEAT
This is super-subjective, but admittedly, part of my praise involves a great
vantage point: second row, on the aisle center-right. Notably, this near-
perfect seat didn't cost much by modern terms - $135.50 plus fees. (Last
time he played Macon I had a front-row seat for a few dollars less!) I can
barely fill my gas tank for that these days.
Better still - for about half the show, Dylan was looking directly at me as
he sang. When he stood, he sang into a mic pointed down the center of
the audience, but when he sat, the angle of that second mic was in my
direction.
Even with my proximity, there were challenges to seeing him. The center
mic's shadow was constantly moving across his face, and the
ballcap/hoodie combo didn't help.
But I could see his expressions quite clearly and was close enough (30-35
feet from me to him) to see wrinkles. This allowed me to see the
emphasis he puts into words, the intentionality behind the vocals - things
he gets no credit for by inattentive fans.
EMOTIONAL ENGAGEMENT
He appeared to be processing the words emotionally - at least to some
extent. You'd see the whole range of expressions, from joking to
bragging to fatigue to menace to joy (not a ton of the latter,
admittedly - this is a pretty serious show, not very impish as in olden
days). He was feeling the words; and asking us to, too.
I've seen lots of quieter shows through the years, where you're invited
to lean in, but this may have been the most lyric-driven of the quiet
shows I've seen. The words are important. We're invited to consider
them - not just as phrases yelled out behind a wall of sound like at so
many concerts - shows where you have no idea what's being sung.
Here, you could hear every word.
THE SONGS
The opening trio of To Be Alone With You, Long Black Coat, and
Watchtower really pulled me in. The first rocked more than expected.
Then Long Black Coat set a sublime mood ... a movie in song, sweepingly
cinematic and intimate at the same time. Watchtower these days has
more of a dark groove than I'd realized ... the whole room was transfixed,
locked into its steady, rumbling drone. Great opening trio of songs.
Oddly, I liked False Prophet. On tapes, it's pretty boring to me - but in
the hall, and as a follow up from Multitudes (which I love as a song but
this version didn't move me as much), was strong.
Black Rider - an absolute highlight So intense. No echo on the title
words this night.
Love Sick - I thought I was tired of this one too. But in this hall, it
sounded both big and personal - and it seemed more indie-modern
somehow than some other ones. Probably that repeating piano riff. And
I finally "got" this song for the first time! I'd always seen it as a powerful
but rather acrid, bitter song about love. But I'd missed the whole point,
which is the final couplet: "I'd give anything to be with you."
The character isn't sick of love at all; he's sick of not being loved.
I've Made Up My Mind To Give Myself To You - he had us in the palm of
his hand. There's a theory that this is actually a song to the road and to
his audience, not to a lover. With that in mind, it makes it especially
powerful to hear in person.
But my favorite song this night has to be Crossing The Rubicon. It's
become possibly my favorite Rough & Rowdy Ways song - a life summary
for this artist, really. In Macon, it sounded like a slightly intimidating
leviathan marching across the land, towards some destination or goal.
The punctuation marks of his piano/guitar/drums were just huge ... I
wanted it to go on forever.
I thought I was over the current arrangement of When I Paint My
Masterpiece - but as I keep saying, this show, this venue, this seat, this
band, this singer - it felt fresh again.
Forgetful Heart continues to be a live favorite these past couple of
years, even if he's lessened the drama from last year's arrangement.
But it's still so powerful.
Nervous Breakdown is a trifle in this setlist, but fun. Nice to hear him
truly rock out, because there's not much of the setlist where he does,
other than To Be Alone With You.
Every Grain of Sand was as stately and grand as you'd expect. Not sure
if this was an accident, but he sang "In the time of my confusion...
" instead of "confession."
After the show, I waited in the parking lot for a bit typing up a little
review for Expecting Rain. As I was pulling out, I saw two big buses in
front of the venue that had to be Dylan's tour buses. Humming, A/C
on I'm sure in this hot Georgia town, headed down the road for
another big show the next day: Dothan, Alabama, Rough & Rowdy
Ways is comin' to ya. Get ready!
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