Bob Dylan - London Roundhouse

The response of: “Yeah, but it’s Bob Dylan” is usually applied by his most loyal defenders whenever any criticisms might be levelled towards the great man. But is Dylan really infallible?

Tonight’s gig is not my first Dylan live experience, so of course I arrive with no expectations of hearing faithful renditions of the hits, instead fully prepared to embrace any latest creative configurations of his back catalogue. Plus, seeing Bob in such a relatively intimate venue given his usual live haunts (more hangers than halls) was added excitement on top. So, at the end of the night, why did I leave so disappointed?

His voice, rasping and hurried, is incomprehensible and barely audible through the venue’s sound system. “Yeah, but it’s Bob Dylan.” Well, no. We’re talking about the greatest lyricist of the Twentieth Century here, a man whose lyrical couplets have been dissected and discussed to the point of exhaustion for over 40 years. I think it’s a perfectly valid grievance if these words are not heard. Fair enough that he’s disguising the familiar melodies with fresh arrangements - hell, if I’d been playing the same old numbers for nigh on 50 years I’m sure I’d be tempted to try a makeover on a few of ’em. But the sound in the venue is terrible. Doesn’t anyone have the temerity (in the venue, or in his management team) to suggest that perhaps with a little less bass and a touch more treble we might actually be able to understand what is being said?

Not that we miss much. Why does Bob think it’s okay to perform to a huge number of people that have paid through the nose for tickets (and who’ve probably travelled from the length of this country and beyond to be here) and never acknowledge them throughout? “Yeah, but it’s Bob Dylan.” Oh, come on! With nothing said between songs, the lights turned off in every gap, and his only offering being his introduction of the band members before the final number, it feels so detached. It doesn’t matter who you are - you could not and would not be in such an exalted position if it wasn’t for these people, so make a bit of effort and reach out to them. If they cheer a dusty bluster on your harmonica, you can bet your white fedora that they’ll positively cream themselves if you’d deem them worthy of a ‘Thank you’.

When the majority of your audience are on the precipice of collecting their pension and are out past their bedtime on a Sunday night, is it really necessary to fill the middle of your set with slow, indiscernible eight-minute blues? “Yeah, but it’s Bob Dylan.” So that makes it okay to delve into your cosmically fabulous bag of stellar songs, grab a handful out, and squeeze them dry of any atmosphere, emotion and energy that they once possessed? At times he just looks like he’s going through the motions, trying to get each song out the way before moving on to the next one… To be fair, though, who would bother making that kind of effort when the crowd looks decidedly lifeless? The top tier of the Roundhouse is motionless for the entirety of the set - only their applause at the end of every song attested to their being.

I sympathise with the people I speak to earlier in the evening, who are losing their Dylan cherry tonight. The prospect of seeing Bob, of being under the same roof as him, is of course a massively exciting prospect; and when he steps onto the stage, a rush of electricity jolts up your spine and recharges your brain. But enduring these 90 minutes is incredibly hard going, with only a few recognisable big numbers and even fewer suitably electrifying moments. If I’d been a Dylan virgin, I may have had a stirring in my loins when things kick up a gear with a ripping version of ‘Highway 61 Revisited’, and a decent ravage of ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ would have had me damp; but it’s all too little too late tonight.

Personally, the set list in unimpressive, and perhaps it’s this feeling that unfortunately provokes my indifference to the event, and no doubt others at the show revel in Bob’s choices and enjoy it much more than I. Fair play to them. And to the newbies, it’s another box ticked - the curiosity factor of seeing Bob has been realised - so they’re probably buzzing from that. But ask if them if they actually enjoyed it, and I bet they’ll have a couple of reservations…

I love Dylan, and I’ll definitely see him again. I think we were both maybe just having an off night. So: lacklustre, inconsiderate and uninspiring? Yeah, but it’s Bob Dylan!

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Set list
1. ‘Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat’
2. ‘Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right’
3. ‘Tangled Up In Blue’
4. ‘Million Miles’
5. ‘Rollin’ And Tumblin’’
6. ‘Tryin’ To Get To Heaven’
7. ‘Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum’
8. ‘Sugar Baby’
9. ‘High Water (For Charley Patton)’
10. ‘I Don’t Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)’
11. ‘Po’ Boy’
12. ‘Highway 61 Revisited’
13. ‘Ain’t Talkin’’
14. ‘Summer Days’
15. ‘Like A Rolling Stone’

Encore
16. ‘All Along The Watchtower’
17. ‘Spirit On The Water’
18. ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’