BOB DYLAN | LIVE REVIEW
Motorpoint Arena Cardiff, Wed 3 May
The generation of music that gave birth to Bob Dylan is regrettably disappearing. The test of time has noticeably affected those who supported him from the start of his career but has not caused their loyalty to falter as they trundled into the Motorpoint Arena.
Dylan’s live shows in recent years have led to an uncertainty of expectations. While some interpret his sound alteration as a typically headstrong move, others suspect he simply learnt to forget his love of music. For a man who’s openly (and contentedly) stirred up eloquent social unrest in his time, there’s irony in these allegations – but the evening proved to be an incredibly touching moment of realisation, the winner of the Nobel Prize for literature illustrating that you should never believe everything you’re told.
Onstage stood seven tungsten lamps, looming over an assortment of instruments like bronzed sentinels guarding treasure. Not treasure that could offer financial gain, but which enriched 20th century culture through irreplaceable words, poignant chords and the freedom to exercise one’s real views and opinions. Out walked Bob with his backing band, sporting a cream white western dress hat and cool persona. The setting was gently blanketed with gold production lights and red flame projections as he perched behind his piano and gently eased into Things Have Changed.
The voice of a generation has certainly changed – from a rich, nasally twang to its latter-day gravel-scagged, sand-and-glue resonation. Even now, however, the eccentricity that echoes through each half-yodel note and blood-thick lyric still betrays his adoration for the country and western genre. Unexpected additions to the setlist were his boisterous piano playing (again demonstrating his resurrected passion) and the inclusion of crooner covers including Frank Sinatra’s Melancholy Mood and All Or Nothing At All, amalgamated with a modern blues twist to suit the musicians’ existing methods. Making each song his own with his muddy vibrato, the crisp wavering of Sinatra was clouded in a smoky atmosphere that may have suited someone like Leon Redbone, but was an unusual – and, unfortunately, uncomplimentary – move for the Minnesotan.
The fact that Dylan has ceased any interaction with his audience (not speaking a word between songs), and has also taken a step away from his signature instrument, are both large contributing factors to the hesitant attitude held by many fans. Which is not to say that he has lost all merit as a live spectacle, however: watching his group show off their talents was an exceptional experience, and it was still more entertaining to pick up on Dylan’s elusive stage characteristics and quirks.
Desolation Row and Blowin’ In The Wind made a welcomed appearance, albeit updated to suit the headliner’s creative movements. A resounding standing ovation was issued on the conclusion of Ballad Of A Thin Man, where he stood facing the arena in silent observation before leaving everyone ‘tangled up in blue’.
words NATHAN ROACH