June 4, 2008
Review by Courtney Lobel
Saku Suurhall is a pretty small arena when compared to the mammoth
stadiums teeming with fans that Dylan frequents in the States. As a
result, the setting was quite intimate. Estonians are not the "hoot
and holler" type, so it was easy to forget that you weren't in a café with
twenty friends, but rather one among thousands. There were chairs set up
on the floor, but a small group of die-hards gathered and stood belly up
to the stage railing for the whole show. Of course, this was my vantage
point. It was a rocking good concert and the band did a phenomenal job. As
a first timer at a Dylan concert I was shocked that there were none of the
acoustic and low-tech songs that had always been my favorites. The
socially-conscious anti-war songs like "God on Our Side" and John Brown"
or the soulful "Boots of Spanish Leather" and "Desolation Row" were all
absent. In their place were those electric Dylan tunes - some reworked and
some untouched.
By far the best songs of the evening were "When the Deal Goes Down"
and "Summer Days." Never having been a huge fan of either song, the
compelling performances of both have converted me and I'm sure I will be
crooning them in the shower in the near future. As a neophyte Dylan fan at
the age of 24, I am still discovering the wealth of his music. Although I
came prepared to hear "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall" and "Masters of War" –
songs that I have listened to while traveling by bus through the Serbian
and South African country sides on my journey to discover the world – I
was greeted with some songs of his that I haven't been acquainted with
until now. In retrospect, I am glad to have gained some new favorites
rather than heard some old faithfuls.
A moment I won't soon forget was during the performance of "Just Like a
Woman." The song was barely recognizable and Dylan spoke more than he
sang, but the song nonetheless had the same impact upon me that it always
does. There was a lonesome feather (no doubt a leftover from the previous
night's performance) that floated from the ceiling and glinted in the
yellow glow of the stage lights. It teetered and tottered its way down to
the beat of the song until it met its final resting place on center stage.
With a huge grin on my face I couldn't help but pinch myself to ensure
that I wasn't dreaming. The man whose songs I stayed up past my bedtime as
an adolescent listening to by candlelight on my bedroom floor so my
parents wouldn't know was really playing 20 feet in front of me.
All the band members had matching tan suits, black undershirts and
black fedoras. Dylan had a black double breasted vintage coat. A
flourish of yellow provided by his undershirt just peeked out and he
wore his own black fedora. He just seemed to be having a great time.
He looked much less weathered and much more vibrant in person than he
appears in pictures these days. It was great to see him looking so good.
He manned the keyboards for the whole show but hearing him play the
harmonica now and again was such a rush! He didn't talk to the crowd at
all nor was there an opening band. Instead of taking a big bow at the end,
Dylan and the band gathered in a row and stood the obligatory moment,
basquing in applause, and then nonchalantly filed offstage. It was very
classy. I am so glad there was no glitz or put-on thank you's to his fans.
That's not Dylan. Dylan is there for the music and seems to care less
about the people who buy it. He just wants to play and that's how I wanted
to remember him. A man who has stood by his convictions, always choose a
route contrary to his fan's expectations, and commands the respect of
countless generations past and new generations yet to come.
It would be amazing if Mr. Dylan could know how incredible last night was
for some of his fans! I feel proud being one among the faceless masses of
his supporters. Its kind of a badge of honor.
"Blowin in the Wind" was an especially appropriate final song. When
Dylan asks "how many years must a people exist before they're allowed to
be free" before a crowd of Estonians who have persevered through brutal
Nazi German and Soviet occupations and somehow come out the other end with
their culture intact– it resonates. When he sang those lines, I couldn't
help but conjure the image of a picture I'd seen that illustrates how one
Estonian family defied their persecutors and laid a white rug on the
floor, a black cloth on the table and blue curtains around the window – so
that the Estonian flag could be present in their home during the
oppressive years. As he sang I remembered a story told to me by my
friend's Grandfather, an Estonian captive of the Soviet Army, who stopped
to gather earth from his home country in an empty matchbook before being
marched across the border into Russia and a Siberian prison camp. How many
years, indeed.
Courtney Lobel
Estonian Special Youth Work Organization
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