page by Bill Pagel
Review by Angel Uriarte Lopez
I THINK EVERYONE WAS WAITING FOR A GREAT SHOW,AFTER ALL, BOB HAD HAD TWO DAYS OFF. DO YOU EVER WONDER WHAT
FOR? I MYSELF HAD STOPPED IN TOLEDO ARRIVING IN FROM CORDOBA THE NIGHT BEFORE AND EVEN WENT TO THE
NATIONAL PARADOR TO ENJOY THE VIEW OF THE CITY AND THINKING I MIGHT MEET THE MAN IN THE LONG BLACK BUS.
AND OF COURSE HE WASN'T THERE. HOW FOOLISH OF ME TO THINK THAT THE MAN WHO HAS SAID HIS HEART IS IN THE
HIGHLANDS AT THE BRAKE OF DAY COULD BE JUST THERE AT ONE OF THE MOST WELL KNOWN PLACES IN SPAIN TO STOP AT.
IN MY OPINION IT WAS STILL VERY HOT IN MADRID, I MIGHT SAY THAT EVEN WARMER THAN IN THE SOUTH. NO BREEZE
AT ALL, AND THE PEOPLE TOO CLOSE TOGETHER. ALCALA DE HENARES IS WHERE THE TRAINS THAT SUFFERED THE BOMBINGS
IN THE 11TH MARCH ATTACKS CAME FROM. IT IS ALSO THE BIRTH PLACE OF OUR MOST CELEBRATED WRITER, MIGUEL DE
CERVANTES, AUTHOR OF "EL QUIJOTE ". THE AUDIENCE WAS YOUNGER THAN IN THE PREVIOUS CONCERTS AND EAGER TO SEE
THE MYTH. THE LOCAL PAPER HAD GREETED THE ARTIST WITH A BIG "HI BOB" IN IT'S FULL FRONT PAGE. I THOUGHT IT
HAD MANY INGREDIENTS TO BE HIS BEST SHOW IN THIS SPANISH TOUR. THE SETTING WAS GREAT. I HAD ASKED MY FRIEND
FROM MADRID TO BUY ME A BIG HAVANNA CIGAR AS THE MOST SUITABLE WAY TO ENJOY THE SHOW, AFTER HAVING HAD A
"COCHINILLO AL HORNO" -ROASTED PIGLET - IN TOLEDO AND A COUPLE OF GIN & TONICS IN ALCALA MAIN STREET. AND
SO WE WENT INTO WHAT HAPPENED TO BE THE MOST DIFFICULT SHOW OF BOB. "UN PURO DE CONCIERTO" WOULD BE THE
RIGHT WAY TO DEFINE IT.WE SAY SOMETHING IS A " PURO" -CIGAR - WHEN IT IS REALLY HARD OR DIFFICULT TO
SWALLOW. AND HARD AND DIFFICULT THE SHOW MOST CERTAINLY WAS. ALL I CAN SAY I WAS UNCOMFORTABLE, SURROUNDED
BY FIRST TIMERS WHO COULD NOT SEE THE STAGE AT ALL AND THE TYPICAL SIX FOOTERS WHO DON'T KNOW HOW TO STAY
QUIET ABOUT WHAT'S GOING ON. I LOST MY TWO PALS VERY SOON AMONG THE CROWD. THE WICKED MESSENGER, AN OPENER
AT DIFFERENT SHOWS, EXPLAINS PRETTY WELL THE MAN BEHIND THE ASSEMBLY HALL. I REMEMBER BEING QUESTIONED BY
THE ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE A FEW HOURS BEFORE THE BENIDORM CONCERT, WHO IS BOB DYLAN FOR ME, AND I HAD
ANSWERED, A PROPHET. AND YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE ONE TO SEE THAT HIS SOLES MUST BE BURNING, OR THAT THE PEOPLE
HE CONFRONTS ARE MANY. IS FINAL WORDS ABOUT STAYING QUIET IF YOU CAN'T BRING GOOD NEWS BEING THE ONLY ONES
PERFECTLY CAUGHT BY MY EARS. IT IS ALWAYS NICE TO LISTEN TO SHE BELONGS TO ME BUT I THINK CRY A WHILE
KIND OF BREAKS THE SPIRIT OF THE AUDIENCE, EAGER AS IT WAS TO HEAR A ROLLING THUNDER. DID I LIGHT MY CIGAR
THEN? I CANT TELL, BUT THIS SONG IS QUITE A "PURO" FOR ME. AS THE THE NEXT SONG STARTED, MY FRIEND ,A FIRST
TIMER, SAW ME REJOICING, LOOKED AT ME AND SAID: IS IT THE GIFT YOU WERE WAITING? AND WELL, IT WAS, YES, BUT
WITH THIS DESOLATION ROAD I KNEW THAT THE DYLAN PLANE WAS NOT GOING TO TAKE OFF THIS NIGHT SOMETHING WAS
NOT WORKING OUT RIGHT IN THE AIR IN SPITE OF THE SETTING BEING SO NICE. DON'T GET ME WRONG, BOB DID A GREAT
SETLIST, AND PLAYED A LOT OF HARP AT THIS SHOW AS WELL AS AT ALL THE OTHERS, ONLY THAT THE AIR WAS TOO
THICK, THE PEOPLE WANTED MORE ACTION BUT WHAT THEY GOT WAS A DEEP TO THE GROUND SHOW, HE DIDN'T SEEM TO BE
AT EASE, KIND OF ANGRY, AND SO DID THE BAND. BUT THEN AGAIN, WAS HE SUPPOSED TO CELEBRATE THE KILLING OF
NEARLY 200 IN THE TRAINS THAT LEFT FROM THE SAME TOWN WHERE HE WAS NOW? AND WAS NOT THAT THE REASON THAT
HE PLAYED THIS WHEEL IS ON FIRE? BUT BOB MADE SHOES FOR EVERYONE, ROMANTICS HAD BOOTS, CRITICS HAD THEIR
THIN MAN BALLAD, WRITERS HAD FLOATER, ROCKERS HAD HIGHWAY AND HONEST, COUNTRY ROCKERS WATCHED THE RIVER
FLOW AND THE ANTI WAR PEOPLE HAD THEIR HOLLIS BROWN, WHICH I DID NOT FULLY RECOGNIZED. THEN, AS IF IT WAS
NOT ENOUGH HE GAVE A BEAUTIFUL FOLKIE DON'T THINK TWICE THAT WE ALL APPRECIATED.ROLLING STONE CAME QUITE
FASTER THAN AT PREVIOUS SHOWS AND THE PEOPLE THOUGHT THAT MAYBE A SECOND PART OF THE SHOW WAS COMING, BUT
WHAT I SAW WAS TWO BLACK BUSES MOVING AWAY FROM THE PLACE A FEW SECONDS AFTER BOB & HIS BAND MADE THEIR
USUAL "DESPEDIDA", LEAVING THE WATCHTOWER FULL OF TIRED AND PERPLEXED PEOPLE. I HAD TO GO FIND MY COMPANION,
AND WHEN I MET HIM HE SAID, YOU KNOW WHAT? MY CIGAR HAS LASTED ALL THE SHOW WHILE I SAT QUIETLY ON THE BACK
OF THE PLACE. THE OTHER ONE WE FOUND HIM DRUNK AS HE WAS BUYING THE BEERS BUT COULD NOT FIND US SO HAD TO
DRINK THEM ALL. AS I WRITE THIS NOW, I THINK THIS SHOW DESERVES TO BE LISTENED TO ON CD SO WE CAN JUDGE IT
WITH A LITTLE MORE PERSPECTIVE AND WHO KNOWS, IT MAY VERY WELL BE HIS BEST.
Review by Antonio Curado
The concert at Alcalá de Henares marked to me the end
of my own touring on the road behind Bob, the third
one in a week (I attended the Barcelona and Motril
shows before), and because of that, it had a
bittersweet taste to me. The last week I have heard
many times the ominous rumour of Bob stopping the
never ending touring beyond the States, and if it
would be true, maybe this concert became the last time
I heard Bob on stage. My mind tells me that I’ll be
catchin’ a plane bound for glory soon…
Despite my own circunstances, this concert was less
satisfactory than the Motril one but better than the
Barcelona show. I think that the break of three days
since the last concert (at Cordoba, the 11th)
influenced the strenght and power of the Bob’s
performance, that in Motril was, in fact, at its peak
(it’s not just my point of view). The venue was simply
beautiful, an old garden (but barren land today) next
to the archbishop’s palace of Alcalá de Henares, the
birthplace of Miguel de Cervantes. A wall surrounds
the plain and makes the place similar to a medieval
one, with a certain resemblance with the Walter
Scott’s stuff or with the french fortress of
Carcassone. The local authorities were really glad
regarding the presence of Bob a moral victory over the
near Madrid, capital of the country but with serious
trouble to hold a spectacle just like this (less in a
place so beautiful like the ‘Huerto’). The city was
one of the most affected by the recent terrorist
attack of the 11-M and to a certain part of the
audience, the presence of Bob Dylan had a simbolic
meaning that was not agreed by the man and his
entourage, as I supposed: obviously Blowin’ in the
Wind wasn’t going to sound tonight. I prefer not to
give an opinion on a subject so delicate.
The opening artist, Amaral, a band praised by the most
comercial radio stations and the most ridiculous
musical press of the country, and loved by the
childlike stuff, reduced this time to a its former
leader, Eva Amaral, playin’ an acoustic guitar, was
just bullshit. In spite of my initial resistance, when
she played at Motril, her stuff didn’t displease me
too much, but in Alcalá I felt that then I went mad
thinkin’ that way. What a boring thing!! Really
pretentious. Despite her dreadful performance, she
could be tolerated, but his partner playin’ the harp…
well, she told that Mr. Dylan came to say hello to
them while they were rehearsing, and that they gave
him the famous Jesús Ordovás’ book (the first one
written in Spain about Bob).
Dylan started with Wicked Messenger, just like in
Barcelona, and since the first lines it was clear to
me that tonight the incredible hurricane heard in the
coast of Andalusia was not to appear with the same
intensity. The set list introduced a number of items
played before that week (Thin Man, Cry A While,
Floater, Hollis Brown) but Bob had reserved for
tonight a bunch of beautiful surprises, specially the
magical appearance of She Belongs to Me (when it
started I thought that it was Queen Jane, my most
intimate desire, but…), sang with delightful phrasing.
When you see something like this, you can understand
why Bob is the most important performin’ artist behind
Sinatra and Presley. Tonight, Bob made a concession
and, finally, played Boots of Spanish Leather. The
people clapped when Dylan pronounced ‘Madrid’, but he
said the word without special emphasis. In fact, the
performance wasn’t too emotional. The song is played
with the same (beautiful) arrangement of Girl of the
North Country, and that was the song played in Motril
with a much better result than now. I wonder if Dylan
playin’ this song had Cervantes in mind: his internal
dialog always have remainded me of the great
literature of the spanish golden age (specially of San
Juan de la Cruz). The other big surprise was This
Wheels On Fire, to me the real highlight of the night,
although I felt annoyed by Larry not singin’ the vocal
harmony. It’s really a sad thing that Bob refuses now
this after many years of beautiful arrangements
(specially with the duet Campbell and Sexton). But the
wheels really burned that night in Alcalá. My fourth
Watchin’ the River Flow was other good number
(curiously it was played in Madrid in 1999 too) and I
gave thanks for the change in the encore: having heard
Tambourine a couple of times in a row, Don’t Think
Twice was a real present for us.
I left the garden with my friends Salva, José Miguel,
Samuel and her sister (curiously I’ve been with Samuel
at Cardiff 2000, with a great Watchin’ the River Flow
too). I was thinkin’ if I’ll see Bob again, someday,
somewhere. I hope so, but meanwhile I’ll sit here and
watch the river flow.
Review by José Conde
After spending half an hour driving from Madrid to Alcala (just 25 km) and
another 20 minutes running desperately from where I parked my car, I found
myself in the venue where Bob plays tonight his fifth concert in this
province of Spain after 1984, 1989, 1995 and 1999 shows, all of them
witnessed by me. The place is a wonderful site close to a medieval palace,
70 km. distant, more or less, to the mountains of Madrid, and far away
from the coast of Barcelona. While I was on the road I felt sort of stuck
inside my car with the Alcala blues again, afraid of repeating my bad luck
in the way to Benidorm five days ago: I missed the three opening songs
(and Hazel was there) due to a terrible jam in our highway 3, surely less
exciting but much more busy that terrible friday than number 61, in which
Abe was asked to kill his son.
Ten minutes after my arrival the ceremony begun as usual: "Ladies &
gentleman please welcome...Columbia recoding artist Bob Dylan", and soon
on the left side of the stage Bob, black suite and and black texan hat,
Stu Kimball, close to him and as well wearin a hat, George Receli is back
on the middle, with a weird beret a la Joan Baez in the sixties, and Larry
Campbell, no hat, long and straight hair instead waving in the air on the
hot summer night. The opener, Wicked Messenger, is sung and played with
energy, Bob in good voice, so the best omen is on the air. With the second
song, She Belongs To Me, the crowd started to enjoy, and after the
manificent rendition of Cry A While, with Desolation Row the doors of
heaven were foreseen...and we were knocking...Then Tweedle Dee, always
effective, with Larry in good form; anyway I´m a little bit fed up of this
song, after being in almost every gig set of the ultimate tours: in deed
in every single previous gig of this current spanish tour, as Honest With
Me and Summer Days and the encores. But then started the real highlight of
the evening, Boots Of Spanish Leather, Bob singing tenderly, with a high
dose of emotion. Who does not feel forever young with such a gem? Rock
came back again with Highway 61, and seemed to stay with joy on a fresh
and new version of Wheels Of Fire and a splendid Watching The River Flow.
Before the end the usual mini set of Love & Theft, represented tonight by
Floater (nice fiddle, Larry), Honest With Me, powerful and vibrating,
better than the album versión, and Summer Days. Amongst them two of
tonight´s jewels: Ballad Of A Thin Man, sung with grief and commitment,
sometimes Misterrrrrrrrrr Jones and others Mister Joooooooones, as the
piano finds its kingdom with our hands waving free. And now something is
happening here and we know what it is, is a terrific version of Hollis
Brown that blows mi mind. Finally the encores, slightly different to the
previos spanish concerts: Bob sings Don´t Think Twice instead of Mr
Tambourine Man; I hail the swift, here is one of my personal favourites
(as well Mr Tambourine, but I heard it at Benidorm). Dylan started singing
his old song to Suze with passion and delicacy, Larry on the acoustic
intro, but increasingly the song turns up its pace and finishes with an
electric roar, with all of the musicians at their highest peak of volume
and energy sudenly leading to Like A Rolling Stone, a powerful rendition
if compared with so many ultimate boots. It´s a pity than soon after Bob
refrained from singing the chorus to listen the crowd´s "...how does it
feel..." the band lost its way through the song and spent 2 or 3 minutes
recovering the right pace and melody. The acussing glances of Bob to his
drummer seemed to acknowledge who has to be blamed. At the end of the song
Dylan, his back to the crowd, adressed as the joker some words directly to
the thief, Receli. So, the most appropiate finale was, as expected, All
Along The Watchtower, with Larry and Stu competing with amazing guitar
licks and Receli now acting his revenge with solid and brilliant drummin´.
This is the end...the band members and Bob stand now in front of the
audience listening the enduring clapping, all staring with satisfaction to
the crowd horizon, all except one, Bob, the little man moving his hands
and fists nervously and looking...to the floor. The the drifter did
escape. Out of the Arena we are not sleepy and there´s no place we are
going to but back home.
In short, I think it has been a very shocking and moving show, even
better than the Benidorm one (my friend Gobiazo doesn´t agree in the
latter). I would rate it in second position among my seven Dylan live
experiences, being the best the amazing show in La Riviera, Madrid, 1995.
On the negative side a non strictly musical item: last 11 march 191
persons were killed in Madrid with bombs that explode inside the trains;
many of those persons, workers and students mostly, lived or took those
death trains in Alcala, and in this same town the terrorists catched the
trains and abandoned a car. Many people at the show maybe expected a small
tribute from the american genius, some shelter from the storm, perhaps a
set including Masters Of War or Hard Rain or...but that´s another story.
billp61@execpc.com
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