LIVE: Bob Dylan & His Band

 

Bob Dylan played his second show of a three night residency at the London Palladium on the 29^th April, and the stage was set out to cater to his famously unpredictable temperament. Stage left stood a baby grand piano, where Dylan could command a good view of both band and audience while pounding the keys. If Bob wanted to sing from centre stage, a trio of microphones awaited him (one modern flanked by two vintage models), and, since he has recently taken to crooning into the microphone while cradling the stand in his arms, a fourth stand had been set aside especially for this purpose. Bob has played guitar on stage very rarely over the past several years, but, should he decide to pick up the instrument, his electric guitar was waiting on a stand in front of the drum kit. Above the stage hung a series of large movie-style lights, which bathed the stage in a warm glow, whilst a bust of the Greek goddess Athena observed the proceedings from atop one of the amplifiers.

Once the intimate London Palladium had filled to capacity, the lights dimmed and the burly figure of guitarist Stu Kimball strode onto the stage strumming an acoustic. As a huge roar rose up from the crowd, out followed drummer George Receli, bassist Tony Garnier, guitarist Charlie Sexton, pedal steel player Donnie Herron and, finally, resplendent in a wide-brimmed white hat, black suit and cream-coloured cowboy boots, Bob Dylan. Having never seen him before in person, I can confirm that he definitley has an 'aura' about him that belies his slight frame.

A brief nod in the direction of the crowd, and then down to business. Dylan positioned himself at the piano and launched into ‘Things Have Changed’, the song from the film Wonder Boys that won him an Oscar in 2001. The sound of his voice – weatherbeaten, but powerful – ringing out so clearly through the speakers was, frankly, overwhelming, and an entirely different experience from listening at home. Next up was ‘Don’t Think Twice, it’s Alright’ one of my favourite of Bob’s early songs, followed by a hard-rocking ‘Highway 61 Revisited’, which evoked the image of a runaway freight train and allowed Dylan to really stretch his voice. Watching Dylan's left foot hammering out the driving beat, it was clear that Bob was totally engaged and switched on, and that we had a great show ahead of us.

After a jaunty ‘Beyond Here Lies Nothing’, Bob left the piano and sauntered/ambled/swaggered/strutted to centre stage, where he delivered a tender rendition of the standard ‘Why Try to Change Me Now’. This was the first of six standards that Bob would perform over the course of the evening, and it was a joy to hear him singing with such care, control and affection for the material. It was back to the piano for the menacing ‘Pay in Blood’, one of the standout tracks from 2012’s Tempest album, which led into an upbeat ‘Duquesne Whistle’ sandwiched between standards ‘Melancholy Mood’ and ‘Stormy Weather’, both of which were performed impeccably.

As we reached the midpoint of the show, the familiar jangling chords of ‘Tangled Up in Blue’ filled the Palladium. This was one of the songs that made me a fan, and Bob did it justice on this night. The song was also home to an oddly emotional moment. During an instrumental break, Dylan returned to the piano from centre stage, sat down, adjusted his microphone, and surveyed his band with a look of satisfaction. I don't know why, but this moment stayed with me, and will probably be my enduring memory of the evening.

The second half of the main set drew largely from Bob's output of the last twenty years, and featured the standards ‘All or Nothing at All’ and ‘That Old Black Magic’, thumping blues jam ‘Early Roman Kings’, the devastating ‘Love Sick’ and, for those awaiting a golden oldie, the mercurial ‘Desolation Row’. Certain songs, like 'Spirit on the Water' and 'Soon After Midnight', seemed to serve as 'rest songs', allowing Dylan to conserve his energy for the more taxing material. Bob closed out the main set with ‘Autumn Leaves’, before he and the band returned for a waltz-time ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ and a thunderous ‘Ballad of a Thin Man’. Then they downed their instruments, soaked in the rapturous applause and disappeared into the night.

I left the Palladium in a kind of blissful stupor, reflecting on everything I had seen and heard. Bob's show, as always, was not a nostalgia show, but rather a snapshot of where he is now (or at least where he was on 29th April), and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

It wasn’t all about Bob though, and I have say a few words about his amazing band, all of whom have been with him for years and have become experts at following Bob's lead. The musician of the night was pedal steel player Donnie Herron, who, from his perch behind Dylan’s piano, kept his eyes trained on Bob’s hands on the keys and adapted his playing to any improvisations Dylan happened to throw out. I love watching how musicians interact and play off each other, so this was a real treat.

My first Bob Dylan show was fantastic, and I can't wait to catch Bob and the gang in action again.

Bob Dylan: "Love & Theft" (2001)

The year 2001 found Bob Dylan in an ebullient mood. He had just won an Oscar, and was fresh from the success of his most recent album, 1997’s Time Out of Mind, which had earned him a Grammy Award for Album of the Year. This run of good fortune had carried over into Bob’s live performances, where he performed with renewed confidence with his stellar backing band, which was built around the duelling guitars of Larry Campbell and Charlie Sexton. Last but not least, he had reached the venerable age of 60 years old. All of this was cause for a celebration, and that is exactly what “Love & Theft” appears to be.

Whereas Time Out of Mind had been produced by Daniel Lanois, “Love & Theft” saw Bob take the helm and opt for a more straightforward, stripped-down style. This was appropriate, since almost all of Bob’s new songs were variations on older songs from the ‘30s and ‘40s. The styles on display range, amongst others, from frenetic rockabilly (‘Summer Days’, ‘Tweedle Dum & Tweedle Dee’), crooner-style jazz ballads (‘Moonlight’, ‘Po’ Boy’), and crunchy electric blues (‘Lonesome Day Blues’, ‘Cry A While’), all of which are tackled with aplomb. 

The only song with a traditionally ‘Bob Dylan’ flavour is ‘Mississippi’, which was initially recorded for Time Out of Mind but ultimately left off the album. In its original form the song had a bittersweet, wistful quality to it, but here it becomes triumphant and celebratory, sounding like the work of someone who has emerged into the light after a long period of hardship. “My heart is not weary, it’s light and it’s free”, sings Bob, “I have nothing but affection for them who’ve sailed with me.”

Possibly the best thing about “Love & Theft” is how it sounds like it was a lot of fun to make. A prime example is the track ‘Honest With Me’; as a song there isn’t much to it, but Bob and the band attack it with such force that it works. Their enthusiasm is contagious, and invites the listener into the album’s warm, party-like atmosphere.

Bob Dylan would make more albums in a similar vein to “Love & Theft”, but personally I think they only occaisionally capture the magic contained in this record. “Love & Theft” was a case of the right people being in the right place at the right time, and remains a sparkling souvenir of a memorable period in Bob Dylan’s storied career. 

The Rolling Stones: Blue & Lonesome (2016)

For a number of years, Keith Richards has expressed his desire for The Rolling Stones to record an album “hot off the road” like they used to in the 60s and 70s. For a while it looked like it just wasn't meant to be, but in 2016 Keith finally got his wish, and after touring every year since 2012, the Rolling Stones entered the studio to record their first album in eleven years.

Blue & Lonesome consists entirely of Chicago blues songs originally performed by the likes of Jimmy Reed, Little Walter, and Howlin’ Wolf. The Stones know this music as well as anybody; they began their careers as a blues band and, although their music has encompassed an impressively large array of styles over the years, the blues has remained the foundation on which all their music is built. By going back to playing songs that they love - the music that initially inspired them - the Stones have rediscovered the passion and spontaneity that has, in my opinion, been missing from their recorded output  for some time.

The tracks are consistently high quality, performed with all the expertise you would expect from a band that has been honing its craft for over five decades. Charlie Watts is in his element as he lays down a subtle, swinging beat, and Keith Richards and Ron Wood effortlessly trade rhythm and lead guitar duties throughout (Ronnie’s playing on the track ‘Blue & Lonesome’ is especially stunning). The standout performer is none other than Mick Jagger, who sings with more passion and commitment than he has in many years. Rather than impersonating his younger self, here he sounds relaxed and comfortable; the vocal highlight for me is ‘Hoodoo Blues’, where Mick's voice drops to its previously-unheard lowest setting, to great effect. Strong support is provided by Darryl Jones (a highly skilled bass player, although Bill Wyman’s unusual basslines are still sorely missed), Chuck Leavell (channelling the spirit of the late Ian Stewart on piano), Matt Clifford (keyboards) and Eric Clapton, who pops up on two tracks.

At one time it was tempting to think that the Rolling Stones – the real, endearingly ramshackle Rolling Stones – were gone forever, replaced by the huge touring behemoth they became in the late 80s. But they weren’t gone – they were just trapped beneath the weight of their own success, and now they’ve found a way out. Bob Dylan once wrote something about “moving forward by turning back the clock” and that is just what the Rolling Stones have done with Blue & Lonesome. Contrary to the title, this album is a sheer joy.

Tom Waits: Mule Variations (1999)

My first exposure to the insanely gravelly voice of Tom Waits (over the end credits of the Al Pacino film Sea of Love, where Tom sings the title song) led me to assume that he looked something like Bleeding Gums Murphy from The Simpsons. I was mistaken, but I wanted to hear that voice again and eventually got into Waits’s music; from his beginnings as a humble piano man to his gradual transformation into a fearless musical experimenter who combined his old style with a love of loud clangs and booms. There are many sides to Tom Waits – balladeer, jazzman, blues singer, crazy person – and the album I think illustrates this best is 1999’s Mule Variations.

Tom’s albums tend to bring to mind a particular place (his early albums evoked seedy bars and dark alleyways), and Mule Variations is no different; it sounds like it was recorded on an abandoned farm in a field somewhere. A lot of the tracks have a blues flavour to them, and you can imagine Tom strumming casually on the porch while someone accompanies him on an upside-down bucket. Most of these songs, like “Get Behind the Mule”, “Cold Water”, and “Filipino Box Spring Hog”, sound like they could have been made up on the spot and are all the better for it. We also get one of Tom’s traditional spoken word pieces, the darkly humorous “What’s He Building in There?”, which is told from the perspective of a nosy neighbour peering through the blinds at the suspicious man living next door (although the narrator ultimately comes across as far more sinister than the person he is spying on).

These are strong tracks, but what really makes the album for me are the ballads, which usually feature Tom accompanying himself on piano. Despite his frequent forays into experimentation, Waits is a balladeer at heart; had he been born a few decades earlier, Tom probably would have worked out of an office on Tin Pan Alley writing songs for Frank Sinatra and others (the best evidence of this is probably Tom’s 1982 album One from the Heart). The ballads on Mule Variations are arguably some of the finest Waits his written: “Hold On”, “House Where Nobody Lives”, “Pony”, “Picture in a Frame”, “Georgia Lee”, “Take it With Me”, and the triumphant “Come on up to the House” (my favourite) are all just lovely, managing to be beautiful and moving without becoming overly sentimental. I can’t help but wonder what they would have sounded like with a full Nelson Riddle-style orchestra behind them, but that would probably have jarred with the raw sound of the album.

This is my favourite Tom Waits album, and I highly recommend it. Tom Waits is a real Marmite musician – his eccentric style means people are either instantly repelled or left hungry for more – but if you like your music gritty with more than a few rough edges, this album is for you.