Reviews

JUST FINISHED READING A BRIEF REVIEW OF WEDNESDAY NIGHTS SHOW IN IRVINE BY
THE L.A. TIMES MUSIC CRITIC RANDY LEWIS. DYLAN LETS THE MUSIC DO THE
TALKING..ECT.,DID"NT SAY GOOD EVENING OR THANKS TO THE CROWD.WAS THIS GUY
IN THE BEER LINE OR WHAT DURING THE SHOW? THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I'VE
SUBMITTED NOT A SONG BY SONG REVIEW BUT JUST MY OVERALL FEELINGS ABOUT
THIS PARTICULAR SHOW.THIS ONE, MY FIFTEENTH SHOW OVER THE YEARS WAS A
SPECIAL ONE FOR ME SINCE IT WAS THE FIRST TIME I WAS ABLE TO TAKE MY
SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER JEN AND MY FOURTEENYEAR OLD SON DYLAN TO SEE
BOB.DIVORCE AND CHILD SUPPORT ISSUES BEING THE OBSTACLE OF THE PAST. SPENT
ABOUT HALF AN HOUR OUTSIDE THE VENUE IN THE RAIN HAWKING MY WIFES EXTRA
TICKET,ILLNES FORCED HER TO MISS THIS ONE AND AS I TOLD HER WHEN WE GOT
HOME THAT I THOUGHT IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST ONES I'VE SEEN SINCE SANTA
BARBARA IN SEPT. 2001. MY KIDS INSISTED ON BEING DOWN ON THE FLOOR AND WE
POSITIONED OURSELVES STAGE RIGHT ABOUT HALF WAY BACK FROM THE STAGE FOR A
CLEAR VIEW OF BOB AND THE BOYS.IN OUR TIME BEFORE THE SHOW I WENT TO GRAB
A BREW AND UPON MY RETURN SENT THE KIDS TO THE SOUVENIER STAND.MY DAUGHTER
THEN TOLD ME THAT THE GUY STANDING NEXT TO ME LOOKED AN AWFUL LOT LIKE THE
ASIAN ACTOR THAT PLAYED "THE DONGER" IN THE MOVIE SIXTEEN CANDLES...YEAH
RIGHT...THIS BEING A MAINLY ASIAN STUDENT BODY MIXED IN WITH THE USUAL MIX
OF PEOPLE OF ALL AGES AND ALL WALKS OF LIFE YOU SEE IN THE AUDIENCE AT
BOBS SHOWS.TURNS OUT SHE WAS RIGHT ABOUT "THE DONGER"...HE WAS THERE WITH
A FRIEND ON WHAT HE TOLD ME WAS A SPUR OF THE MOMENT DRIVE FROM L.A. TO
SEE BOB THAT NIGHT.I HAD JUST LEANED OVER TO HIM AND HIS FRIEND AND I SAID
"YOUR THAT GUY FROM SIXTEEN CANDLES,RIGHT?" AND HE WAS VERY KIND AND
GRACIOUS TO BOTH MY KIDS AND I AND EVEN GRABBED US ON OUR WAY OUT TO SHAKE
OUR HANDS AND WISH A SAFE JOURNEY HOME.MY APOLOGIES TO HIM IF HE'S READING
THIS THAT I DID NOT REMEMBER HIS REAL NAME THAT TOLD ME (NOT HIS STAGE
NAME...).BUT NOW, ON TO WHAT I THOUGHT WAS ONE OF THE MOST UNBELIEVEABLE
THINGS I'VE EVER WITNESSED AT A SHOW AND I HOPE TO GOD SOMEONE HAS PHOTOS
OF THIS.AT ONE POINT TOWARD THE END OF THE SHOW BOB LITERALLY CREPT UP TO
GEORGE'S DRUM KIT,ARMS OUT,HANDS EXTENDED AS IF CASTING A SPELL UPON HIM
AND BRINGING HIS HANDS SLOWLY DOWN ALONG WITH THE TEMPO.KIND OF
REMINISCENT OF THAT FAMOUS PHOTO OF BOB ON A ROOFTOP SOMEWHERE DOING
ALMOST EXACTLY THE SAME THING.HE THEN TURNED AROUND AND FACED THE
AUDIENCE,LIFTING HIS ARMS UP HIGH ONCE AGAIN,HANDS WITH FINGERS EXTENDED
CASTING THE SAME SPELL UPON A RAGING CROWD,THEN PULLING ON HIS RIGHT
SLEEVE,THEN THE LEFT, AS HE WAS APPARENTLY SHOWING US HE HAD NOTHING UP
HIS SLEEVES!! THERE WERE ALSO A COUPLE OF JOKES DURING THE BAND
INTRO...GEORGE HAD HURT HIS TOE SO BAD THAT THEY HAD TO CALL A TOE
TRUCK,AND ANOTHER IN REFERENCE TO STU BEING FROM BOSTON AND A RED SOX
FAN.OVERALL THE POINT MISSED BY OUR L.A.TIMES CRITIC WAS THAT BOB SPOKE
VOLUMES THROUGH HIS STAGE ANTICS AND OVERALL UPBEAT MOOD DURING THIS SHOW
THAT INDEED WAS PURELY MAGIC. MY ADVICE TO ANY ONE WITH KIDS WHOM HAVE
NEVER BEEN CALLED TO WITNESS WOULD BE TO TAKE THEN WITH YOU AND GIVE THEM
THE MEMORY OF A LIFETIME.BEST WISHES TO ALL GOING TO ANY OF THESE
REMAINING SHOWS...IT WAS WELL WORTH IT.

PAUL MARTIAN TANNER

A very comfortable venue at the UC campus. Clean lines made for clean
sound this evening. Bob, apparelled in Black duds and a yellow chiffon
shirt seemed warmed up for this campus tour. Out the gates strong w/ To Be
alone , Times and a solid and loud TD&TD. Lyrics were particularly sharp
and crisp . Of course a staunch Hwy 61 brought the crowd alive after a
solemn Make U Feel My love. Boots of Spanish Leather  & Every Grain
supported another great show in what's looking to shape up to be another
great leg of the Endless Tour. See ya in Boulder!

John Hopper
Crested Butte Co.

Maybe it was Bob making a cartoon of himself – prancing around the stage
with his hands outstretched doing the scarecrow. Maybe it was the fact
that I only heard ½ of a stereo mix tailored for a room made for mono.
Maybe it was the fact that most looked pretty bored on the floor. My hopes
rose as Dylan launched into a revamped highway 61 with nifty triple beats
and breaks: then, when George hit the beats and the rest of the band did
not (although Bob might have, but his piano was not evident in my mix) - I
could not turn from the untight messyness. I heard the first notes of
Every Grain of Sand, and remember how much someone had enjoyed it from RMD
or the Pool – but as it played I longed for the original version. Is Stu
really the best he can do? He should take a drive down Hollywood Blvd
while he is here and audition some hungry kid who would welcome the
chance, and the money, and play guitar until his fingers bleed. While he
is at it, get some teenager with some angst left in his bass pedal. I
watched as Larry, who had always been steady in the past; execute a
flawless lead on pedal steel during Rolling Stone. He sat motionless, and
emotionless, like Data out of Star Trek – absolutely technically perfect –
but void of excitement. Doing all he could to not fall asleep. The band
could not wait to get to the end of the songs, with Larry ripping the
strings upwards a full beat or two before the end (listen to the tape) on
Summer Days. They all could not wait to make it end. Maybe they all had
the flu. I have heard enough to know when a band is tired. This act is
ready for Branson. There is no way to sugarcoat this anymore – it reminds
me of 91 and 92. But I am not quite ready to throw in the towel because,
after all, it is Bob. Maybe he will take a year off, regroup, and come out
swinging with Groom’s Still Waiting………

Pete Law

A pretty darn good show, not phenomenal but solid.  Stood in line for 6
hours -- at times in the rain -- so I could get to the front of the stage.
But as luck would have it, there are always those son-of-a-bitch vultures
that will find a way to push their way in front of you when the show
begins. Bob came out dressed sharply in his usual garb, looking like a
19th century Southern nobleman...black suit, black hat.  The concert
started out slow, thanks in part to a weak Irvine crowd, whom in my
estimation were largely Dylan-concert virgins.  So you can’t put all the
blame on them for not knowing that Bob typically feeds off of the
enthusiasm generated by the crowd picking up on new and subtle
arrangements or well-sung parts of a certain song.  Overall a great, and
very well-balanced set list.  Some highlights:  a tender Make You Feel My
Love...what can I say, I was there with my girlfriend.  Every Grain of
Sand was terrific.  There’s this powerfully pronounced baseline in Every
Grain that Tony plays throughout, which gives it a new sentimental feel –
first time I heard it sound like that.  Masters of War got a big reaction.
 As for songs with political/social commentary, Bob delivered both Masters
and It’s Alright Ma with unprecedented clarity which was terrific.  I have
to agree with Mr. Law in that there seemed to be some lack of attention
and boredom on the part of the band with the faster tempo songs like
Honest With Me and Summer Days. Seems the repeating lick in Honest With Me
occurred way before it was supposed to...especially when compared to the
album version – but for the worse in my opinion.  The It Ain’t Me Babe
arrangement was excellent.  It had a nice ascending build-up to the
chorus.  Bob had some great, bad jokes during band introductions and
definitely had the showman persona going for a while there.

I guess my final thoughts in general are that it’s time to put away the
key boards for a while, or at least cut back on them.  Arthritis or not,
Bob at the keys throughout the whole show is getting old and takes away
from the energy that is generated from him standing stage-center playing a
guitar. Please change it up a little.  Play a few guitar songs – acoustic
or electric – then go back to the key boards for a bit if you’d like. The
band will make up for anything you can’t get to on guitar.  I understand
that hoping Bob will change up his performance preference is going against
the Dylan Doctrine of  being at peace with the idea that “he will do what
he wants to do” and whatever that is is the magical mystery that is Bob
Dylan. But in my opinion, shows since the keyboard era began don’t hold a
candle to several of those gems between ’97 and ’02.  There’s something
about Bob with a guitar that just brings so much more fervor to a live
show.  Bob, if you’ re reading, will you think about it...please?

~JB

Although it was raining miserably as I arrived at the Bren Center at UC
Irvine around 5PM to stand in line for the October 20 show, I was
optimistically looking forward to seeing Bob again.  My spirits had been
lifted by the Cardinals' Game 6 playoff victory against Houston and by the
Red Sox' miraculous defeat of the Yankees, and my wife and our friends,
Allison and Chuck Fay, were en route to meet me in line.  I was looking
forward to my first show with Stu Kimball, and anticipating an interesting
performance, hoping that Bob would exorcise the Wolfman, and that we might
even get some 3-part harmony like I'd heard on the .mp3's of the Berkeley
concert that had been posted at the Pool a couple of days earlier.

The Bren Center is where the UCI basketball team, the Anteaters, play
(that has to be the strangest name there is for a college basketball team)
-- there's a big bronze statue of an anteater right in front, its nose
shiny from being rubbed for good luck by students.  I saw a few old
friends standing near the front of the line -- blondie and
utopian_hermit_monk (the first two!), Covwoman61, kisskissmary,
suite_marie, Ken Reinhard and I'm sure I'm leaving a few folks out.  But I
didn't have an umbrella, and as I and the other folks around me got more
and more soaked, our spirits unavoidably began to dampen. Lots of groups
of people -- including my own -- with complex meet-up logistics were
calling each other on their cell phones, trying to find each other in the
gloomy early-evening drizzle.  At about 6:00 the marshals formed the crowd
into two parallel lines, which allowed me to move closer to the Bren
Center entrance where there were trees to stand under, and that helped a
bit.

My wife finally arrived just as the doors opened, around 6:30.  We
frantically signaled to each other and managed to meet up just as I
reached the frisking stations.  We decided to go for seats rather than
brave the mob assembling on the arena floor fighting to reach the rail,
and we ended up on the left, about 50 feet back from the stage and maybe
15 rows up.  The kid sitting next to me was a dead ringer for the dopey
skateboarder in "Clueless", and the rabbi of the local Reform temple was
two rows behind us.  I had no idea he was a Dylan fan ...

By 8:00 the place was full; the entire floor was jam packed with people,
and as the clock rolled toward 8:30 the crowd periodically drifted in and
out of rhythmic clapping.  Finally Copland's "Rodeo" blasted forth from
the PA system and out came Bob and the band, Bob dressed like James Garner
as Bart Maverick in an old-time frock coat with a button above each tail
and a black cowboy hat to match, the rest of the guys in sharkskin suits. 
Stu and Tony also wore black hats.  Stu took up a position directly behind
Bob, and they opened up with "To Be Alone With You," a rollickin'
rockabilly interpretation with what sounded like some new lyrics, if I
could've made them out, only I couldn't, because the Wolfman still had Bob
by the throat.  But this wasn't your father's easy-rollin' old Nashville
Skyline version; Stu cranked out a nice lead on his black Stratocaster,
and then Larry responded with an even better lead on his Telecaster, and
then both of them played a dueling-guitar duet, and the Wolfman kind of
fit the song's ambience, and the audience was into it, and at the end they
gave him a rousing cheer.

Larry picked up his cittern and Stu got a Martin acoustic and here came
"The Times, They Are A-Changin'," a very appropriate song for this
election season, eliciting another yell from the crowd as soon as they
realized what it was, which didn't happen until Bob actually began singing
because the meter was transformed into a near-waltz, with the choruses
ending on a long held note punctuated by George hitting a cowbell before
the band crashed hard into the verses with tremendous force.  Bob was
still in the grip of the Wolfman, but -- although there was some
up-singing in mid-verse at times -- he sang with powerful energy and
cadence, every phrase nailing the lyrics' call to action to the wall of
music like a herald nailing the Declaration of Independence to the
Continental Congress' door.  When he pulled out his harmonica, he
surprisingly played it cross-harp rather than straight, which made the
song seem more bluesy, connecting it back to the civil rights struggle of
the '60's; and then, after the last verse, he really touched the deep
wellspring of the song's meaning when he played the harp once more in
short, insistent blasts that sounded like the [i]teruah[/i] of a
[i]shofar[/i] on [i]Rosh Hashanah[/i], calling everyone to stand and judge
or be judged, a sound that would surely follow you into the voting booth
on November 2.

Well.  With the crowd stil cheering, Larry and Stu retrieved their
electric axes and the band launched into "Tweedle Dum And Tweedle Dee," a
song that I thought I'd heard more than enough times, Bob still the
Wolfman and doing a bit of up-singing ... but when it came to the
instrumental breaks the boys made it interesting.  Up to this point you
could hardly hear Bob's keyboard, but now it became audible.  On the first
break Larry took the lead with Stu playing a kind of lead rhythm against
him.   On the next break Larry cut loose big time, walking over next to
Stu, seeming to goad Stu into cutting loose right along with him, the two
of them making a wall of sound that resolved into a harmony on thirds in
the tune's distinctive lead riff; then George slammed the snare -- BAM! --
and the last  verse dropped down to almost nothing but Bob and the drums,
gradually crescendoing to the closing climax.

Tony then went back and got an acoustic string bass, Larry picked up a
fiddle, Stu got a hollow-body electric guitar and we heard the opening
bars of "Floater," with Bob coming through loud and clear on the Yamaha,
his voice gargling and growling with a phlegmy texture, venturing beyond
Wolfman into unexplored laryngeal territory.  During much of this number,
Larry looked like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing; at
first he just stood there holding the violin at his side, then he raised
it to his chin and tried a note or two, then gave it up for a few bars ...
when the song reached the point where, on the album version, the first
instrumental break occurs, Larry looked like he was going to start
soloing, only Bob went right into the next verse. Every verse after that,
the same thing happened, until finally just before the last verse Bob
stopped and Larry got his chance, producing a soaring lead that harked
back to the sound of a dance band on a '20's ocean liner.  Then Stu played
a Wes Montgomery-styled riff with octave harmonies, followed again by
another fiddle fling from Larry, and Bob wrapped up with the final stanza:
"Aaand tears or not, it's TOOOOOOOOO much to ask."

The crowd had calmed down a bit over the last two tunes, so the Bren
Center was oddly quiet as Larry retrieved his cittern, and with Tony still
on acoustic, Bob began to sing "It's All Right, Ma."   And -- [i]mirabile
dictu![/i] -- the Wolfman vanished!  Every word was clear as a bell and
even my wife noticed the difference.  This was the same basic arrangement
that we've heard for the past two years, except less sonically
overwhelming, but still strong.  There were cheers at all the usual places
and Bob was in his vocal element -- "What ELLLLLLLLLLSE can ya showme?" --
but you couldn't hear Larry during the verses; even he couldn't hear
himself, walking over next to his monitor and leaning his ear toward it. 
Basically only Stu and George were audible until the instrumental break
when suddenly the cittern became audible, too, but you could hear it still
cutting out for fractions of a second in spots even though Larry was doing
a great job of hiding the problem by playing it vibrato, like a mandolin.
Stu added a simple, straightforward but well-constructed electric lead
that ratcheted entertainingly up the fingerboard, and by the end, Bob had
the crowd back in the ballgame.

Then Bob picked up a harp and played the sweet opening melody to "Make You
Feel My Love."  Tony was back on electric bass, Stu was on a Strat and
Larry was on something that looked like a Telecaster with dual pickups.
Bob was up-singing here, too, but it was appropriate for the song, giving
it a sad, plaintive cast, especially on lines like "You ain't seen NOTHIN'
like ME YEAHHTTT."  The instrumental break featured a dual guitar harmony
lead with the subtlety and complexity of a fine wine, followed by Bob back
on harp, this time playing a simple staccatto lead with feeling against a
legato guitar accompaniment.

The crowd seemed to have sat back in their seats for that slow tune, so
Bob got everyone up out of their seats with a great, great rendition of
"Highway 61 Revisited" that lurched and jerked like a pickup truck with
bad shocks as the lighting turned gray against the curtained backdrop,
making it look like a waterfall.  Tony and George slammed out a rhythm
figure that started with a triplet in the first two beats of the bar and
then ran like hell to catch up in the last 2 beats -- POW! POW! POW!
BA-BA-BA-BA-BA! -- and Stu and Larry responded with a dual-syncopated
guitar attack that didn't quite syncopate, but precisely because of that,
had a huge energy ... and then they REALLY got going! Stu unreeled a lead
that channeled the ghost of Stevie Ray Vaughn, roaring out this huge,
cosmic WHA-WHA-WHA-WHAWHAWHAWHAWHA, a swinging, looping whirlwind of
sound, then somehow making a yowling whine almost like the police car
siren on the original album track; then George ripped the snare hard BAM!
BAM! BAM! way high up like gunshots from a Hollywood chase scene while Bob
was tryin' to create the next World War --  BAM! Found a promoter who
nearly fell off the floor -- BAM!  Never engaged in this kind of thing
before -- BAM! and at the end Stu and Larry generated a gigantic wall of
sound with a dual lead that evoked memories of Duane Allman and Dickey
Betts.  Whooooo!

As usual, after a rave-up Bob chose to let the air out of the tires with a
slow tune. "Boots Of Spanish Leather" had Larry back on cittern, Tony on
acoustic bass and Stu still on electric.  The arrangement had much the
same flavor as the latest iteration of "Girl Of The North Country,"
especially since you could hear Larry properly again, and Bob contributed
some very nice keyboard fills as he tiptoed semi-staccato through the
lyrics -- "Is there somethin'... I can ... send you ... to remembe ... me
by ..."-- gapping brief caesurae between the syllables,  a touch of Wolfie
in the night combining with a masterful vibrato at the end of each phrase
to enfold the narrator's sadness and longing in an envelope of ultimate
resignation.  In the break, Stu added a pretty country lead, and then Bob
played a beautiful cross-harp lead, beginning with legato phrasing to
contrast to his vocal pattern, then modulating into a more insistent,
repeated theme of two staccato notes followed by a rising third note. Good
applause at the end, though the audience mostly remained in their seats.

An all-electric "High Water" followed, with the Wolfman back in full
force, Bob spitting out a rocketing rap over a menacing, turbulent dual
guitar background that suggested whirlpools in the flood of a stormy
Mississippi.  From where we sat, the stage lights were reflected in
George's bass so that when he hit it, it looked like flames shooting up,
exploding inside the drum set, as Bob growled, "It's BAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDD
out there!  YEEAAAAAAGGGHHH!"

From menace to miracle, Bob followed "High Water" with "Every Grain Of
Sand," with a staccato harp lead that rapidly repeated a single note over
and over.  He managed to confine the Wolfman mostly to times when he
vocalized the vowel "A": "I gAAAAzed into the doorway / of Temptation's
AAAAAngry flame / an' every tahme AAh pAAAAAss that way / AAAh AAAAAhlways
hear mAAh nAAme."  When he heard the ancient footsteps like the motion of
the sea, the band crescendoed like a wave breaking on the shore; and Bob
closed it all with another harp solo.  I personally prefer the spare
Bootleg 1-3 arrangement of this song, with its simple, beautiful piano and
guitar in 4/4 time, to the waltz-time version that he plays on the album
and in concert, but this particular performance was one of the better live
versions I've heard.

An acoustic "Masters Of War" was next -- another politically relevant
song, opening with only the beat plus Bob's insistent piano, the rest of
the band coming in on the second verse.  Larry's acoustic guitar provided
a thrumming, monotonic accompaniment to Stu's lead, which added some
sinister, ominous dynamics, ranging from barely-there to big, portentous
chords.  And all through it Bob hammered on the ivories as if each key
were a nail he was driving into Halliburton's coffin.  This one got
another big round of appplause and cheers from the crowd.

"Honest With Me."  What more can one say about this war-horse?  On this
number Larry used a brown sunburst electric Gibson that sounded different
to me than usual, especially on the song's characteristic slide riff.  The
beat was a bit more lurchy than usual, too -- kind of the same way they
played on "Highway 61." Larry and Stu combined on some dissonant
dual-guitar fills, and then Bob walked out to the center and stood in
front of the drums, pointing first to Larry to cue his slide lead, then
pointing over to Stu to cue his lead.  The audience seemed to like it --
someone even threw an article of clothing up on the stage -- but I think I
must've heard it too often to get very excited by it this time.

Now they fired up "It Ain't Me, Babe," and this was again acoustic except
for Stu, who was capoed up to the second fret on his Strat.  This version
was really the culmination of the arrangement we first heard in March in
St. Louis; the arrangement having finally become what it was trying to be
all this time.  It was much, much better and much more together than it
was in St. Louis, with Bob playing another staccato cross-harp lead in the
break, its tightly controlled cadence opening up an opportunity for Stu to
solo, and then Larry, and then the sound of both guitars crescendoing,
merging into a final triumphant instrumental choral harmony that made me
realize, for the first time ever, how much of an absolute put-down this
song is, with its narrator literally glorying in the [i]schadenfreude[/i]
of his lover's disappointment as he confronts her with the truth; that who
she loves is not him, but her own fantasy.

And the main set closed with -- what else?  "Summer Days."  Tony on
acoustic bass, and Larry on that brown sunburst Gibson again, the band
once more reprising that POW! POW! POW! BA-BA-BA-DA-DA-DAH rhythm from
"Highway 61" as Stu played octaves on a snow-white Telecaster and Bob
sang, "Ah got that hammer RINGGGGIN, but I ain't got that NAAAAAIHL goin'
down."

Everybody catapulted out of their seats, the band went into Formation, and
Bob made a kind of herky-jerky gesture with his arms, sticking his cuffs
way out of his coat sleeves.  Then they went offstage, the crowd cheered
and they returned to play "Like A Rolling Stone" to more huge cheers, with
Larry on pedal steel.  Bob then introduced the band, mentioning that Stu
was from Boston, "Which just goes to show that the impossible can still
happen," referring, of course, to the Red Sox come-from-3-0-behind surge
to snatch the American League pennant from the flaccid grasp of the
slack-jawed Yankees.  (I've always assumed Bob's a Yankee fan, but who
really knows?)  Then he said: "George Receli -- George hurt his toe.  We
had to call a toe truck.  But he's doing better now." And the show ended
with "All Along The Watchtower," with Larry still on pedal steel and that
odd echo effect on Bob's vocals.

All in all, this was an above-average show.  I didn't come away with any
earth-shattering insights or intellectual syntheses.  Stu is a great
addition to the band, much better than Freddy Koella, although I don't
think any lead guitarist Bob's likely to hire will ever top Charley
Sexton.  The odd lack of communication between Bob and Larry on "TD & TD"
was, well, odd, as was the trouble Larry was having with his cittern's
amplification.  I hope that's not going to be a continuing thing.  The
audience in the standing area on the floor was very much into the show,
but the part of the crowd that was in the seats seemed a bit passive to
me.  And I was somewhat disappointed that the set list wasn't more
adventurous and that there weren't any vocal harmonies attempted. But I
sincerely hope that someone recorded it, because it's a boot that I think
would definitely be worth owning and listening to again, and I'm looking
forward to hearing boots from the rest of this tour as well -- Bob and the
band are playing some of the best music around, certainly the best since
Charley left, and I'm unfortunately not going to see any other shows in
the current schedule.

Better late than never,

H.