No amount of grit and dirt on Bob Dylan's voice can ruin the apocalyptic tones of Ballad of a Thin Man, which sounded as ominous as ever at Nashville's Municipal Auditorium.
Dylan and his longtime band provided a tight reintroduction to what I had missed about his Neverending Tour.
Thirteen years ago, Bob Dylan nearly died of a rare heart condition. Two months later, he headlined a bizarre night opened by BR-549 and Ani DiFranco. Six months later, he hit Cleveland's Public Hall. Aside from a random Dylan & The Dead show in 2003, when Blossom Traffic denied me all but his final three songs, I spent ensuing years taking Dylan's neverending tour for granted.
When Chris Clancy, a friend and coworker, asked if I wanted to go, I could not refuse. As Dylan nears 70 and shows no signs of slowing down, I realized he's among the last artists of his stature still touring and still producing quality songs - he demonstrated that with Jolene and the stellar Beyond Here Lies Nothing from 2009's Together Through Life.
People say his voice is shot, yet outside of Nashville Skyline, his voice has been criticized for nearly 50 years. His newer material fits the voice, and he rearranges the older songs to fit his limitations.
If anything deserved a raised eyebrow, it was Dylan's outfit. Dylan has been high on country gentleman suits for a decade or more. With its red piping, this black number shouted 19th century militia leader from the American Southwest. Were his hat black instead of white, he could have passed for Col. Mortimer from For a Few Dollars More.
Spending most of the evening at his keyboard -aside from some soaring harmonica moments in Tangled and other tracks - Dylan cut an imposing figure. The outfit contributed to that vibe.
We missed Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat, entered the arena to the strains of This Wheel's On Fire (Dylan started promptly around 8 and closed shop by 10), and found our seats by the second verse of Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again, which Dylan chased with Just Like a Woman (which I initially mistook for Every Grain of Sand).
This concluded the Blonde on Blonde portion of the set, with Dylan mixing in more new tracks around Highway 61 Revisited gems and Tangled Up in Blue.
When taking up the harmonica, Dylan moved more on stage than I ever remembered, shedding his awkwardly rigid posture for a slight strut here or there. It's nice to know he still has a little swagger to reveal.
When the band finished scorching its way through Like a Rolling Stone and bowed, it occurred I might not see Dylan might not have too many victory laps left on the Neverending Tour.
I didn't get my dream second encore - that would be Highlands, the 16-minute closing track from Time Out of Mind he probably wouldn't play under any circumstance.
Fortunately, Dylan's professionalism and ability to tap an aquifer of unparalleled songwriting goes a long way.
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