''Recensie'' van Dylan's concert gisteravond in The Roundhouse in Word Magazine:
First, two disclaimers: 1) I'm not a huge Dylan fan. I absolutely love Desire, and I probably own another dozen albums but would be equally happy with a decent Greatest Hits package. 2) I went to this show (my first) with extremely low expectations. Suffice to say, they weren't met. It was dreadful.
His "voice" is beyond parody. Dylan sounds as if he's desperately trying to cough up his own blood, and has this weird, barking delivery, like a choking diner attempting to dislodge a particularly stubborn peanut. The only time he speaks is right at the end, when he introduces the band in an incomprehensible Texas/Lousiana mumble, which is a little odd for someone who's spent most of his life in New York.
Not to get too personal, but he also looks pretty weird. Close up, he has an extraordinarily pale, rubbery head, and bears more than a passing resemblance to Jeannette Charles, the actress who's made a career out of portraying Queen Elizabeth II in comedy films. Perhaps it's the rather splendid hat.
The set? He butchered Tangled Up In Blue. And he butchered Don't Think Twice, It's Alright. And he butchered All Along The Watchtower. And, right at the death, he played a version of Blowin' In The Wind that had about as much in common with the original as, well, something entirely rubbish by someone else altogether. Only on Po' Boy from the new album (where he actually sings for a moment), and on Highway 61 Revisited (at least I think that's what it was) did the "arrangement" give the song enough room to lift the atmosphere, rather the being a clumsy, plodding travesty.
Question: he's been playing that harmonica for fifty years. Why, whenever he reaches for it, is there a ripple of anticipation in the crowd - if not a rousing cheer - when he doesn't seem capable of anything more than some rudimentary, near-tuneless parping?
Believe it or not, and despite the low expectations, I went to this with an open mind. And, judging from the reaction, I was in a tiny minority in not enjoying the show. I'm glad I went. I'm grateful to have breathed the same rarefied air as the big man (although it would have been nice if he'd acknowledged the presence of the audience). But Christ, I wish someone would explain to me why anyone would want to go and see him play in 2009. And, hopefully, someone else in the Massive can redress the balance and shine a more favourable light on proceedings.
Finally: I never noticed this before, but dry ice smells a bit like custard.
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