My mom and I have had some differences lately but there was no way I was 
not coming with her to Liverpool again, this time, on top of everything, 
to see Bob perform. Two years ago, during the Fall tour, we detoured from 
Bob's route and skipped the shows in Hull and Nottingham to spend a couple 
of days in Liverpool, as my mom has turned, over the last few years, into 
a great Beatles fan. Of course I sadly missed 'I Can't Seem to Say Goodbye' 
in Nottingham in occasion of Jerry Lee Lewis' passing and the seemingly 
crazy audience in Hull but I didn't regret a bit of it. Before heading to 
The Cavern (replica) to enjoy the amazing Cavern Club Beatles, we walked 
by ourselves to the very outskirts of town and saw the childhood houses of 
Ringo and John, the house where George wad born, Strawberry Fields, Penny 
Lane, the actual grave of Eleanor Rigby and the Woolton church next to 
which Paul and John met for the first time. It were such memorable hours, 
just the two of us, like Indiana Jones (+G.Maps), trotting around and 
uncovering similar landscapes to those painted by the Fab Four. Dusk came 
upon us, I read the news and The Killer had died, we took the train at 
Hunts Cross and went to The Cavern, tired but amazed and happy of the 
whole adventure, before heading to Glasgow next day.

With all that in the bag, how could it be topped? Bob playing Liverpool 
on a Sunday was the answer: Friday Nov. 1st was national holiday in Spain, 
so again I traded one show (Bournemouth) for more Beatles, and we went to 
The Cavern on Friday AND Saturday. To my complete surprise, I found the 
second show much more stronger and unique than the first one, truly 
connected with the audience, the singers (specially 'Paul') performing 
the songs sometimes instead of just replicating them. 'A Day in the Life' 
was just mind-blowing.

The little surprise I had for my mom was visiting the childhood homes of 
both John and Paul, something you need to book quite in advance and that 
I really recommend as the guides do an amazing and heartfelt job 
conveying the experiences and spirit of those time and lads. I was 
particularly moved in John's bedroom and later in Paul's living room 
where some of the first Beatles' hits were actually penned down. Before 
visiting Paul's house we crossed paths with a dearest bobcat friend who 
told me that the guide hinted that Bob was about to visit Paul's house in 
the afternoon. It made me nervous the whole visit, picturing Bob standing 
in those same tiny spaces later on, imagining how I imagined The Beatles 
writing 'Love Me Do' or ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ in that very room. I 
opted for not trying to stalk outside in case he came, it was a nice 
private moment for me and it should be the same for him. That said, I'm 
still not sure if he came in the end or not!

I'm extending so much on this because sometimes I've been mocked about my 
excitement on most shows and my assessment on them but is it that strange?
 For the me Bob is the core of the trips but many things surround him: the 
 emotion my mom founds in The Beatles, the dream of visiting their homes, 
 weaved with Bob's knowledge and interest, passion maybe, in them, that 
 mixed up in return with how important Bob has been, is and will be 
 forever in my life. While in John's bedroom, there's a letter by Yoko Ono 
 in which she states that John dreamed many things looking out that window 
 and that she hopes that whoever stands there make their dreams come true, 
 as John did. I thought about when I stood in Bob's bedroom just a couple 
 of months ago and how special it felt, how those rooms seemed just about 
 a mile and a half away, at least in my mind, at least in my life.

Now, I try to be as honest as I can with Bob and each and every show but 
this is not a lab experiment, I don't have the obligation nor the will to 
separate what happens to me outside a show from what happens inside so 
there I am, 7:25pm sharp in row 6, centre block by the aisle in that huge 
arena, Merseysided, momsided, ready for what it may come.

I'm still not sure how it happened but this time I actively make an effort 
to focus in the moment as much as I can and the whole show is kind of 
miraculous before my eyes. Despite many latecomers a couple of rows in 
front, 'It Ain't Me Babe' is so epic that I don't feel disturbed by anyone. 
Bob chains a guitar melody that progresses beautifully and when he hits 
the piano and vocals I feel similar to the first Paris show: maybe it's 
him, maybe it's me but the voice conjures so much feelings with such an 
amount of authenticity that you only can do your best to keep up with 
those feelings and process in the moment how they affect you. It's 
something it will occur several times during the show, the force and 
tension are beyond live music, they root deep in the foundations of one's 
own emotions, you can feel flooded by them to the point you end up crying, 
sobbing even on a couple of occasions, as during the last verse in 'Mother 
of Muses', when that lump in the throat ceilingfan_broken talked about is 
either swallowed or expelled, and expelled in my case means tearing up. It 
shocked me how many Beatles' songs are based on their childhood and how 
much that meant to them, and during Bob's show in Liverpool I remember 
feeling so unprotected, as if that old man was removing all that was 
accessory and leaving me naked from the inside down. I can't do but assume 
that was what happened when crying came so suddenly so many more times 
than before...

As I was saying, 'It Ain't Me Babe' was the first outstanding piece of the 
night, with by the way 'Watchtower' featuring again that same verse 
repeated in the end à la 05-06. Bob seemed more assured of what to do and 
when to do it with the mic, putting it back in the stand a couple of times 
to sing and play piano with both hands and taking it out again gracefully 
to sing and dance. Towards the end specially, I counted at least 4-5 times 
in which he threw the mic quickly from one hand to the other and back, his 
free hand eastbound or westbound over the keys. It was a beautiful piano 
driven night, I'm not sure if his best night with the instrument from 
those I've been there but it was truly a thing to witness and enjoy. Bring 
me one 83yo that plays the piano with a similar amount of decision and 
energy, I'd love to check it out. 'False Prophet' was so stomping, Bob 
instructing the rhythm hitting heavily the keys, no plink plonk, no 
goofing around, all business, decision and purposefulness, hollering the 
last lines as if his life depended on it, all anger and curse, and hope on 
timelessness: "I can't remember when I was born and I forgot when I died". 
And then, it amazed me so much, I felt so moved by how down to Earth 
'Masterpiece' sounded, the harp so honest, Bob playing again Mario Bros 
with his own lyrics, and I couldn't help but to comfort him (and me) with 
an "it's not!" in response to his feeling of his cup running over.

'Crossing the Rubicon' was another number around the piano, now departed 
from a more classical approach and embracing the liminal threatening 
quality of the song, as with the almost exhaled "if I survive then let me 
LOVE" that made the whole thing seem a Shakespeare play, this kind of 
continuous clicks on your mind that can drive you crazy while you unfold 
layers within. I remember Bob clearly hitting a two note heavy rhythm 
later in the song and it sounded as the most f***ed up thing ever, the one 
and two, the high road and the load road. When he turns the key and breaks 
it off, my God, he's untouchable...

So I guess he broke me off and that's what happened in 'Desolation Row'. 
The drums were, again, the diligence of John Ford and all his world kept 
inside, all the feelings and pretending, all the trading and compromises, 
all the beauty and the bloodshed, all written in a broken promised letter, 
with that exhortation that Bob shouted last night from what seemed a true 
voice within him: "Don't send me no more letters. NO!". The diligence 
kept going West but that "NO!" felt a vindication, an order to stop that 
downpour of unbearable suffering that life is most of the time. The tiny 
problems you can't help with, the everyday and everyone interfering; I've 
always wondered if Desolation Row is out there or if we inhabit it. The 
harp solo mid-song was heart-breaking, was truly shattering, the tears it 
motivated were raging ones, poisonous I'd say, the extremely direct 
connection Bob conveyed with the songs making me feel that, yes, maybe he 
visited Paul's house after all.

Maybe because it's been tucked between 'Desolation Row' and, usually, 
'Baby Blue', I've overlooked 'Key West' a bit this tour, I don't know. As 
soon as the first lines roll on and someone shouts (methinks) "you're 
lying!" after Bob sings that "McKinley squalled", I sense that almost 
nothing apart from his voice and his piano is audible. Bob seems to 
hesitate on which highway he should take but suddenly he picks up speed 
and delivers an almost solo rendition that leaves myself and everyone 
around me breathless. An "I was there" moment above an "I remember that" 
one, an irrational humbling, flooring feeling invades me, every nerve in 
my body feels touched by whatever is going on and when Bob sings about 
knowing "all the Hindu rituals" I think about George Harrison, my mom's 
favourite Beatle, and how blessed we truly are despite trouble every day. 
An "I was there" moment that tangles with an strange feeling: that 
Liverpool's 'Key West' sounds like something The Beatles could play! The 
way the song moves and smiles, and makes you cry, that something 
manifested on that arena last night while the sunlight was coming up. And 
then, of course, the Hemingway remark, probably unreliably true?

Placing 'River Flow' afterwards served as a crazy counterpoint against 
such two moving experiences, diverging the show from a progressive 
experience to a more extreme one, challenging you to keep up and enjoy a 
rockier number with tears still rolling down your cheeks, as it was my 
case at least. Beatlemania manifested again when I briefly found myself 
twisting my head in true exorcist fashion at the, again piano driven, 
bridge during the song, with Bob going into full madman mode. I have to 
say that life is good but obliterating yourself in your raw emotions once 
in a while is even better.

The solo approach was again mastered in a new 'Baby Blue'; just Bob 
searching, finding, chipping a groove and cascading the song from it, 
crafting the words carefully to extract all them hidden meanings (it's a 
crazy thing, words), nailing the notes to the lines, puzzling you once 
again after so many nights. It seemed an impossible daughter from the 
'Girl from the North Country' and Chopin, as if the war was over, free 
at last.

I've found myself really unprepared for 'Mother of Muses' on this tour. A 
song so often overlooked, this apparently topical Homeric song, yet night 
after night it hits me hard, sometimes to the bare guts. I remember from 
last night the "I've grown so tired of chasing lies, mother of muses, 
wherever you are, I've already outlived my life by far" lines, how loudly, 
echoingly personal they sounded, like a plea and, again, that fleeing 
feeling that it can be easily overlooked: you feel the weight of life and, 
hard as it is, it's a beautiful feeling in its core, so those tears are of 
bitterness as they come out and of relief as they fall. The last lines of 
the song, I can't believe how hard they hit, how moving it is feeling that 
he sings "light" as a noun instead of an adverb.

I have to skip 'Jimmy Reed' and another prove of maybe the best piano show 
I've ever seen from Bob because I want to carry the musing feeling 
directly onto the last harp solo in 'Every Grain of Sand'. Just a few 
seconds before, in the sparrow line, something happens, he repeats a word 
or makes an inflection, I can't remember and don't wanna check a 
recording, and it feels heart-breaking, that something feels like a crack 
in the distance, as if what remains of the show emanates from there. Bob 
Dylan plays the most powerful harp solo I have experienced, it is so 
shattering that during the usual slow fade out that ends the song he keeps 
going, as if he doesn't want to leave her now, he blows some more heavy 
notes before having enough. The solo itself is genuine, juvenile, hopeful, 
is something that states other somethings, that is solid state in your 
soul, you can't overlook it or understate it, it is what it is and that 
smile it draws on your face is for you and forever.

I'm fortunate to run a bit and stand the closest possible to Bob and his 
imposing 'metallic' jacket. On the grand occasions, he looks much bigger 
than what he is. He reacts to one of my smiling "thank you"s with a glance 
and smile and also a punchy gesture. I just wish my mom getting something 
close to all this when we go see Paul McCartney in Paris next month, she 
really deserves it.

PS: Check 'My Own Version of You' from Liverpool! I forgot to write about 
it and didn't want to cut the flow of words, but it was a newish 
arrangement, at least to me. Waltzy, late Cohenesque, crescendo-ish, 
truly beginning the winter of my discontent!

Saw Dylan in Liverpool last night. The hardest working 83 year old in music
today? Evidently he's commited to 'rage at the dying of the light'. 

Good voice. The sound was paired back to allow him to be heard. His
intonation, expression and nuance of voice were amazing, as ever. The band
are brilliant. Jim Keltner on drums. No additional instruments like slide
guitar or violin. Just bass, drums, two guitars, and Dylan.

Dylan plays harp, guitar or keyboards as the urge arises. On occasion
Dylan plays piano with one hand, holds mike with the other... old
school. Sometimes he starts one or other then changes his mind. He's
still amazingly gifted but retains a tendency to get clunky on the piano
at times. 

As always, the sound has that feeling it's only just managing to hold it
together, that it might all come apart any second or might reach nirvana.
He walks a tightrope. It's mesmerizing. It's obviously deliberate, but 
maybe he's dysphasic or something? 

He plays mostly lesser known stuff, including off latest album. And when
it comes to a biggey, (like All Along The Watchtower), lots of people
don't know what he's playing coz it's so stripped back and revised.
Which creates a sort of clubbishness for those who know or are used to
this. It's cliquey. Always has been.

He looks fragile on his pins, but walks around a bit. Mumbles into the
mike on occasion but not as if he wants to be heard.

My only gripe was that, nowadays, there's a demographic who think it's
ok to talk through concerts. Massively annoying if you sit next to them as
I did last night.

Next stop RAH.

Stephen Brooks

Desolation Row absolutely blew my mind. It started w really really fast
brittle drumming which was an incredible surprise.
Ratatatat-ratatatat-ratatatat They're selling postcards of the
hanging… It was totally incredible. So fresh and exciting. And quick.
That doorknob ain't never getting fixed. We got atleast 4 amazing harp
solos whereas just the one at the end in Glasgow 2 years ago. Each met
with a gasp of delight from the grateful crowd. Key West much better this
time: really really quiet vulnerable version. Delicate is the word - so
good. Kind of a wild surf punk version of When I Paint My Masterpiece (O
the streets of Rome…) and jazzy moody Watchtower was fabulous. My Own
Version of You was as gleefully sinister as ever and Rubicon is still sexy
and defiant. Every Grain of Sand was just sublime and gorgeous. 

In the time of my confession / in the hour of my deepest need

Did Bob talk to the crowd about the Beatles or the Adelphi in 65 or the
pictures w the Liverpool street urchins in 66? Of course not!

Just some thankyous. He introduced one band member then 2 songs, another
band member, 2 songs… That was new and cool. The drummer, of course, was
Jim Keltner. Just joined Bob again. He was original drummer for Knockin'
on Heavens Door (he said cried when they recorded it). He also drummed on
last 2 Christian albums and - you ready for this? - Time Out of Mind!!!!
The original Love Sick, Can't Wait, Standing in the Doorway drummer. And
the man has played with everyone - from ex-Beatles to Elton John to Oasis
to Lana del Rey! Very VERY moving to see him w Bob again. 

Did some grumblers leave early because Bob is not a human jukebox? Of
course they did.

Never pandered, never acted proud / Never took off my shoes, throw 'em in
the crowd

Was there rapturous applause at the end for the man who has given us the
most astonishing body of work in the history of popular music? You better
believe it!

There was also a lovely coda to the evening. As the smiling Scousers
trooped out into the November night we were serenaded by the ghost of Bob
Dylan, a beautiful Bob busker who led us all in a magical Bob singalong of
some of the acoustic classics. 

Ain't no use to sit and wonder why babe…

It was perfect.

Steven Jackson
Wirral

As long as I've followed the setlists, I've envied the people who
travel the world, and follow tours for long stretches. Now and then in my
younger days I was able to go to a few in a row, especially if he was
playing in and around my town, and in recent years I've been able to do
several more, and determined that whethe it's financially wise or not,
there's nothing I'd rather spend my money on than going to more Bob
Dylan concerts. But I'd never been overseas for one, or even further west
than Iowa. When rumors swirled of a fall UK tour, I decided that I'd do
it. 

I'd fly out election day, and stay for the rest of the tour. The Royal
Albert Hall! Two weeks of just wandering, with no itinerary but the
concerts. I'd always heard how much I'd like Edinburgh, and I always
wanted to hit those little English towns that you never think to go to as
a touist, like Nottingham or Wolverhampton. Brits thought it was hilarious
that I was interested in Wolverhampton, but, hey, one of the best shows I
ever saw was in Dalton, Georgia. This was to be two weeks of adventure!
After the Prague recordings went around, I even moved my flight back a
couple of days to see Liverpool and the first Edinburgh show. I didn't
want to be over the ocean on election night anyway (there aren't enough
sedatives in the world), and one day less of swing state canvassing
probably wouldn't be the deciding factor in the election, after all. 

So I flew into Liverpool... 

Liverpool! Just like I pictured it. Brick row houses and everything. 

Social media posts remind me that it was three years ago this week that
the Rough and Rowdy Ways tour began in Milwaukee, a night that will be
hard to top for sheer excitement. And now, here I am, heading to another
joint as the tour becomes, in its final stretch, Rough and Rowdy 2.0 

I found myself fascinated by Liverpool - the city is a strange mix of
Pullman, the "fancy factory town" an old robber baron built in
Chicago, and Brooklyn. It's bustling, and feels far larger than
Milwaukee, a town with a similar population and working-class reputation.
I had something called a sausage barm at a shop with a surly owner and
listened to the chimes of an enormous church. As I was walking around to
see where The Cavern was, my Tempest shirt was spotted by a few fans who
hustled me into a pub, where we chatted, watching a Dylan tribute act that
did songs like "is Your Love In Vain," , and guzzled beer. Too much
beer. As we walked to the venue they showed me sites like the old White
Star Line offices, where the people gathered for news of the Titanic.  As
I walked to the long security line, I heard an astonished Ian Gallon call
out my name - what a swell hobby this is, where we can fly 3000 miles,
make new friends, and run into old ones!  

I hadn't followed the recent tapes TOO closely, and jet lag hit me right
as the show began, so I experienced my first  Rough and Rowdy 2 show
through a haze of beer, sleepiness, and a distinct need to pee.
"Watchtower" was such a new arrangement that I almost thought it was
going to be "Things Have Changed." It sounded like Bob was playing
guitar in the early songs - there was no piano, just a Bob-like guitar
bit, though I couldn't see behind the piano (later reports confirm he
was playing). 

In a "full circle" sort of thing, now that Bob is presumably on the
last leg of Rough and Rowdy Ways, he's back to doing several songs
center stage, like on the very first leg, though he's not quite as
animated as he was in the beginning, when he would do things like walk in
a crouch, like a cartoon character going on safari. And the "center
stage" parts don't seem to last as long; after a verse or two he's
back at the piano, and often leaning his elbow on it as he sings.  I was
reminded of those Charlie Brown comic strips where he and Linus wax
philosophical while they rest their elbows on some random chest-high brick
wall. 

The leaner, rougher band (and somewhat rougher voice) makes for a very
different experience than the tight, spooky spring shows, and takes some
getting used to. So did the venue; the arena in Liverpool is by far the
largest venue in which I've seen a RARW show. Between the huge hall and
the jet lag, I felt like I was watching to show from a far greater
distance than I really was. 

There were some clear highlights; a very sparse and gorgeous "Key
West" stood out, after which Bob said he wrote it at Ernest
Hemingway's house (and something like "I think there's a bit of him
in that song, I don't know but I suspect" though the words were lost
in the echo of the hall.) "Baby Blue" abandoned the recent arrangement
that called to mind the guitar in The Beatles "In My Life," and
instead went into an arrangement similar to the summer "Can't Wait"
but more like the version from "Shadow Kingdom." The show continues to
evolve! What a fascinating progression it's been, as these songs reveal
layer after layer over these three years.  Of course, leave it to Bob to
abandon a Beatles-like arrangement as soon as he gets to Liverpool. 

Bob moved to center stage and nearly danced for the beginning of
Desolation Row, with Keltner laying down a barrelling drum part. The
percussion on the great "Unplugged" version sounds like a pony
clip-clopping across cobblestones as it leads you through Desolation Row
in a carriage. Now it's a whole team of horses charging through. I
thought of Dylan's 97 interview in which he said the "slow train
coming" was still on the way, but going like a freight train now. 

The crowd was mostly sedate certainly not as enthusiastic as they were
singing along to the busker doing "Like a Rolling Stone" outside
later, which made me think that many of them had come expecting a show
like you'd get from Paul McCartney, or Mike Love and the Beach Boys of
Theseus, recreating the old hits so you could sing along. In a large
arena, it's a given that thousands of people expected that sort of show,
and were bound to leave disappointed no matter how great the show was on
its own terms. But they were brought to their feet by the harmonica solos
in "Every Grain of Sand."