Mojo - The Music Magazine

Bob Dylan & His Band
London Roundhouse
April 26, 2009

THE MAINSTREAM British media has noticed that Bob Dylan's been in town, and that he is still popular. This has proved too simple a proposition for some to get their heads around. So, for instance, Radio 4's Today programme was obliged to stoke some controversy, dredging up a bogus net rumour that Dylan was threatening to play acoustic in order to replay the whole "Judas" furore.

Then they dragged some commentators out of bed - the excellent Gavin Martin, Gideon Coe - to ask them if the "hype" around the new record was deserved. This is always hilarious: the media pretending "hype" is no fault of theirs/ours/its but some sort of conspiracy nurtured at its expense.

Meanwhile, the broadsheet reviewers had decided it was time Bob had a roughing up (well, it's been a while), the Daily Telegraph following its criticisms of the previous evening's O2 show (Andrew Perry, not unknown to this parish, compared Bob's vocal delivery with that of Vic Reeves's pub singer) with one which asked "why do we bother with Bob Dylan live?" and concluded that, by and large, perhaps we shouldn't.

The Word magazine sent someone who "absolutely loves Desire", the marvellous Mark Ellen presumably having a deserved lie-down after his Kafka-esque attempt to get to the 02 show. This follows a general trend towards writing new album Together Through Life down as a disappointment (not by us, of course): partly I suspect a response to the hoops Dylan's camp asked journalists to jump through in the reviewing process. Assessing albums chained to a desk in a record company office rarely brings out their best qualities, something artists/managers/labels might like to ponder.

More favourably inclined, and enriched by the capital's weekend sunshine, MOJO attended the Roundhouse gig and must admit to feeling very differently. Regular Dylan showgoers would have found the setup and delivery - the fissures in Dylan's voice and the liberties taken with the catalogue - very familiar; harking on those would be like taking James Taylor to task about his baldness - they're now just part of the picture, not about to change anytime soon. Less familiar was Dylan's tangible excitement and verve, all the more evident in this up-close and personal environment.

MOJO's three-strong contingent (myself, Andrew Male, Ross Bennett) agreed that while we'd seen Dylan's band more sparky, this was the most Dylan we'd ever got out of a live Dylan show. Propped in front of a keyboard - not always a good sign - stuck on its Hammond B3 setting, Dylan would seem to inflate slightly, and smile - yes, smile! - with every Al Kooperesque tickle or flourish, and his evident delight and connection with the instrument culminated in the most charismatic and straightahead reading of Like A Rolling Stone I've heard in 20 years of Dylan gigs in Britain.

There were surprises: a breezy, crowd-pleasing opening salvo of Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat, Don't Think Twice, It's All Right and Tangled Up In Blue; a beautiful I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Have Never Met), with the vocal melody of the recorded version transposed to guitar in a way that made you think of The Faces' Cindy Incidentally. There was an incomprehensible inclusion (Time Out Of Mind's Million Miles - eh?). There were ample opportunities to savour the boogielicious qualities of Bob's recent output: Rollin' & Tumblin', High Water (For Charlie Patton) and Po' Boy chopped out by a band whose stone-cold groove these songs are designed to showcase. There was - blimey! - even banter, as Dylan presented his band, including a Camden-centric introduction for pedal-steelie/violinist Donnie Herron: "They tried to make him go to rehab," nasalled Bob. "He said no, no, no." And this was better singing, with more passion and clarity, than we've seen on these shores for a while.

In the blogosphere, the jury's out. There are predictable whinges regarding the setlist (could there ever be a perfect one?) and the price of tickets. But the ferocity of some of the grumbling seems remarkable to me; how many of these correspondents attended May 12, 2002's Dockland's Arena gig, perhaps the most turgid show by any artist I have ever attended? By those standards, this was Manchester's Free Trade Hall, May 17, 1966, in spades. And besides, you feel compelled to point out, this was A BOB DYLAN CONCERT! The small-print applies as it has since the dawn of the '70s: caveat emptor.

Actually, don't listen to the naysayers. Dylan's Indian Summer is still something to relax and enjoy, something to be grateful for. He's on rare form, having a ball, his hogs out lying in the mud. In the words of "Love And Theft"'s Summer Days, "Everybody get ready to lift up your glasses and sing / I'm standin' on the table, I'm proposing a toast to the King."

Bottoms up, Bob.

Review by: Danny Eccleston