“I should have memorized all the lyrics before we came.”
Quipped Sherry as we listened to Bob Dylan vocalize his songs Friday, November
1st at the Morris Performing Arts Center in South Bend
She said so because,
unless one is particularly familiar with Bob Dylan’s lyrics, one will not be
able to decipher them audibly.
I am not being
critical of Bob. I merely mean that, while he is indeed a poet worthy of Nobel
Prize recognition, it is a stretch to affirm him as a singer. Furthermore, I do
not mean to say that his vocalizations are without great value. Listening to
his gravel-gargled voice reminded me that “all is well”, at least for the
moment, as I am anchored to a 1960s cultural idea of song and performance. The
concert made me feel as if I were still living the 1965 moment when I was ten
and I heard his material performed by the Byrds, Johnny Cash, and Dylan himself
(I declare no one, except me, can perform “Like A Rolling Stone” better). I
often joke with my son that I perform Dylan’s material better than Bob. If ever
you were to hear me sing, you would grasp the joke.
I counted seventeen
songs performed by the Nobel poet. And if historic significance is an attribute
worthy of a ticket price to you, then you will be greatly satisfied. I now get
to say, “Yes, I have been to a Bob Dylan concert!” My concert experience
collection includes, Rolling Stones. Black Sabbath, Ringo Starr, MC5 (Detroit
I was hoping for the
long-shot, “incidental” appearance of Joan Baez for a duet of “Blowing In the
Wind”. No such appearance happened. But it would have been really groovy!
During the concert
three mannequins dressed in formal or party attire stood along the curtain like
backstage guests on-looking friends in performance with whom they would party
post show. They added a bit of mystique to the performance.
Also adding mystique
was the woman who wore 1960’s style frayed bell-bottom blue jeans. I commented
on them and that she looked much too young to know the significance. She
politely corrected me as if I were the younger of the two and that she was a
truer participant of 1960’s culture.
I politely acquiesced.
During the closing
song of the concert I imagined Bob and his band, the three mannequins, and the
woman in the bell-bottoms all having drinks at a local establishment and
recalling their first visit to South
Bend
My son, Eric, not knowing much about Dylan, as he is more of
a Metallica/Black Sabbath sort, declared the concert to be “really good!”
Bob will never know it…but such an accolade from Eric carries
an intensity of sincerity. “Really Good!” is his “A+”, 150%
Bob should feel proud!
