"I'll die before I turn senile"

The Bob Dylan Show: Starring Bob Dylan and his Band, Merle Haggard and the Strangers, and Amos Lee
The Beacon Theatre, New York City, April 30th 2005

He stood there like a desperado: black on black suit, boots, Matador pants. I knew he'd be playing the electric piano, but I still expected the icon, that scrawny guy with the acoustic guitar and harmonica rack. But there he was, crouched over the keyboard, snarling “Maggie's Farm” into the microphone while his band, also clad black on black, laid it down.

Merle Haggard and the Strangers, who played for nearly an hour before Dylan took the stage, were perfect. Haggard's voice was crisp and expressive, his phrasing as distinctive as ever. His guitar leads sounded great, too, that Telecaster twang that put Bakersfield on the map. There were plenty of laughs: we're the only band to “employ a full time nurse;” “allow me to introduce the Strangers,” whereupon they all shake each other's hands, etc. There was no fooling when they hit Jimmie Rodgers' “Mule Skinner's Blues,” though. By the time “Mama Tried” followed “I'm A Lonesome Fugitive” I had long received my money's worth.

I can't recall the full introduction Dylan got. Some cool cat declaiming the prophet, the outkast, electricity, disappeared into a drug haze, found god (God?), returned in the 90s from the wilderness--something like that but for heaven's sake don't quote me. So. Our section--Loge, Row F, dead center hovering right over the stage, pretty goddamned good seats--was oppressively hot. All those nosebleed refugees filling up the aisle didn't cool it down any, but so what? When Dylan started on “Cry A While” I forgot all my troubles. If you've heard “Love and Theft” then you have a sense of how menacing he sounds today. His voice is gravel and acid, his music a dark and flawless synthesis of blues, country, and jazz. “Cry A While” hit a groove so mean it tore the rough off the place. So did the bluegrass epic, “High Water (For Charley Patton),” and “Highway 61 Revisited,” totally reconfigured from garage rock to acid blues. The finale, an incendiary, nearly apocalyptic version of “All Along the Watchtower,” left me speechless. The fact is I still am. Let's just say that I'm glad I went.