He entered the stage at 9:45 p.m. and left at 11:30 p.m. A total of 105 minutes without saying hello or goodbye. He murmured three or four “thanks” here and there. He didn’t play Like a Rolling Stone, Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door, Blowin’ in the Wind, or Hurricane. In short: none of his classics played. He also didn’t blow his iconic harmonica. He demanded that they set the piano (the only instrument he played) four meters from the edge of the stage, where he took refuge all night. Was he Bob Dylan or his reflection? Who knows. And despite what has been said, it was a weighty concert with lots to talk about and flashes of brilliance. It happened last night at the beginning of the Noches del Botánico musical cycle in Madrid and it was the first concert of a tour that will have 11 other dates in Spain (the next one again today on this stage). It was raining a lot just before we left. But the water stopped as soon as the Duluth legend started singing. 2,200 people, all seats, sold out.
It must be noted that this chronicle was written by foreigners since the teacher did not allow press accreditation for photographers or chroniclers. Therefore, the picture we use to illustrate the piece is from 2019, from his concert in London’s Hyde Park. There is no one else. Cell phones were also banned, with all spectators placed in sealed bags that were not opened until the music stopped.
Dylan doesn’t want what happens in his recitals to be told in a schizoid attitude that gives the character more eccentricity. But even if he doesn’t want to, you have to tell this dim-witted Dylan, not at all smug, intimate, bluesy, aged (82 years old), even playful at one point. He delivered a basically blues concert based on his latest work (the juicy Rough and Rowdy Ways, 2020) and hardly looked back. And it turned out warm and even funny. He was accompanied by a good band (drums, two guitars, bass and another musician playing steel guitar and violin) that surrounded the protagonist and almost always remained static, never taking their eyes off the boss’s hands. In some phases the instrumental development was bumpy, a relief at a time when concerts already come out of the studio with a sound that is as perfect as it is unnatural. Last night it was the other way around: there were disproportions, failures, improvisations. Normal things that happen when people are in charge. He was always at the piano, getting up and singing, although when he didn’t need to use his voice he would take the opportunity to sit down and rest for a few seconds. But he was already in shape at 82. We would all agree with his figures: he plays an average of 100 concerts a year.
The environment was sober, with a brown curtain in the background and little else. The musicians came out dressed in black and only a few lights in the background broke the general gloom. Neither screens nor mandangas. Dylan put on a show like he was painting the picture of his life on canvas. He spoke of muses, of black riders riding a narrow path, of lonely men missing the girl who broke his heart, of crossing the Rubicon despite the risks on the other side… Dylan told the story of Dylan last night at the most intimate level. As he sings the lyrics to “I Contain Multitudes,” the theme of his latest album, which he brought up in the first part of the concert: “I interpret the songs of experience as William Blake and I don’t have to apologize because everything is in flux.” .”
We have to talk about his voice, full of nuances, with his usual pitches, so imitated and with a certain roughness that gives beauty and truth at the same time. Despite the wear and tear, it was voluptuous. He broke through the blues with a powerful, resilient voice. At times a gloomy fog seemed to reach the audience. It was his pleading voice, aged and full of scathing humour.
He included almost all of his latest works, Rough and Rowdy Ways, in his repertoire: songs like Black Rider, Goodbye Jimmy Reed, Key West or the beautiful Mother of Muses. And then songs he picked from records like “Nashville Skyline,” which he made “To Be Alone With You” from; John Wesley Harding, where he narrated I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight, or Slow Train Coming, where he chose Gotta Serve Somebody. He only did one version, Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away,” which sounded playful and in which some claimed they saw Dylan bob his head in amusement. Could be…
A porcelain in the shoe
The veteran musician didn’t take it easy on himself, and that was the interesting thing, an attitude his hard-driving fans adopt as part of their devotion to the legend. It would be extremely easy for Bob Dylan to play a handful of classics, be charming on stage, prepare an everyday speech, and even smile. But he does not belong to this mortal world and is fine; He also doesn’t want to look like Mick Jagger or Bruce Springsteen giving the audience what they want. No: Dylan is a Chinese in the shoe, uncomfortable, uncomfortable, that makes you suffer and makes you think why the hell spend 120 euros to be there, in the drizzle, and wait for Like A Rolling Stone to play, that will never come. And yet it’s worth it. At this point in his career, nothing is at stake when he takes to the stage. You play to stay in tune with yourself. And it is.
He ended the concert with Every Grand of Sand, a notable theme from his weak Christian-day album Shot Of Love. A psalm not chosen at random, in which he recites: “At the moment of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need, when the pool of tears beneath my feet floods every newborn seed, there is a dying voice within me that is going somewhere. “ ” What a sensational ending: The dying voice reaches somewhere. Last night to 2,200 privileged people. There are still 11 appointments left; If you can, don’t miss it.
Just outside the venue, a street musician began playing Dylan songs. Some viewers stayed to listen to “Mr. Tambourine Man” to hear. It was the closest thing they could to enjoying a classic Dylan song.
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