This is Ten Times Worse

I recently was at my parent's house, or as I like to call them, Mom and Dad, and as I drove up, they were busy bundling some branches they had cut down. I of course had my hands full so I couldn't help them, but as they were hard at work, Mrs. Weeklund, who used to baby-sit my brother and I, walked by with a friend. She stopped and chatted with "Mom" and "Dad" and they asked her if she remembered who I was. She said she did, that in fact she was just telling her friend that she remembered the time she baby-sat my brother and I, and I wouldn't stop crying. She asked my brother what I wanted, and he told her I wanted to hear my record of Yellow Submarine. And damn it, I wouldn't be happy until I did.

Yes, even as a kid, I had a fondness for the music industry. I wasn't merely fascinated by things that went round and round and made noise, I was transfixed and calmed, and entertained by music. My one talent as a child was long before I was able to read, I could pick out of my pile of 45's any song I had that anyone requested. To this day no one quite knows how I managed to identify my records which had identical labels, and all I can remember is looking at the grooves and knowing.

Last Tuesday, October 24th, I saw Bob Dylan perform live for the 13th time in my life (please no jokes about how in his Dome appearance in 1986 Bob didn't show any signs of life). All those shows have taken place in the last nine years so during that time, I've seen Bob more than: 1) the number of times I've cleaned my refrigerator; 2) the number of times I've seen my "buddy" since she's moved on; 3) the number of times I've managed to do something right. Bob is fast becoming like an old friend but lest you think I've gone overboard, one of the things I've discovered as I've surfed the Internet, is there are people who've seen Bob hundreds of times and make me look like a virgin, as far as my knowledge, so to speak.

This time around the venue was larger than I have become accustomed to (the Target Center), and I actually went with a group of ten as opposed to the solo excursions I've become used to. It was great sharing the moment with somebody, even if I had to let that somebody violate my code of rules and touch me, but Bob as usual was his incredible self. He opened the show with Drifters Escape from 1968's John Wesley Harding, and for me it wasn't quite the forceful opening as the spring's Crash the Levee or last year's Jokerman. Still, some have wondered if this choice of an opening number might not have something to do with current events in this country. Most of the vocals were lost in the imbalance of sounds but one could clearly hear Bob sing, "The trial was bad enough, but this is ten times worse. Just then a bolt of lightening struck the courthouse out of shape, and while everybody knelt to pray, the drifter did escape" (which of course got people howling).

An early highlight for me was the second song, If You See Her Say Hello (along with a later impassioned performance of a similar in theme number, I'll Remember You). My favorite tune from Blood on the Tracks used to be You're a Big Girl Now, a song about the hurt of loss and reconciling one's self with that loss and moving on and not being able to move on, but I might have to reconsider that after hearing If You See Her live, because this particular performance struck a place deep inside rarely visited these days. "If she's passing back this way, I'm not that hard to find. Tell her she can look me up, if she's got the time."

Other highlights included a cover of the Grateful Dead's Alabama Getaway, and also the acoustic Mr. Tambourine Man where Bob sang the song with his 1995 sense of renewal, discovery, and really knocked the audience, hanging on every word, swaying with every note, dead with a harmonica solo that crescendoed into something spellbinding. Just Like a Woman, Masters of War, Watching the River Flow, Highway 61 Revisited (very much the rocker unleashed at last year's Woodstock), and the searing God Knows made even the most skeptical and nostalgic in the audience rise to their feet and applaud the performers who were obviously putting a lot into this night's performances (including some electrifying and funky lead guitar work by Bob).

Yes indeed, twenty seven years after Mrs. Weeklund couldn't quite calm me down by finding my then favorite tune, this evening wound me up, and lightened the burden just a little tiny bit. The music was scorching and inspiring and above all else, way cool. Rumor has Bob hitting another West Coast swing, which I may have to see. I may fast becoming the very thing I hated in college (like a Deadhead) but this is too good to miss. I don't know if I hate being a groupie more than I love the passion of the music and how on a particular night, for a particular moment it can still knock down the walls of defense and cynicism. I dare to find anyone who is giving better and more convincing performances than what the masses saw at Target Center last Tuesday Night. I would even take my worst enemy to one of these shows. And all of you too. Mercy and Amen.