The strange thing about London to me is that it doesn't seem strange to
me. Nearly everywhere I've been in the UK, there's barely been a time
when I could glance out the window or down the road and not know I
wasn't in the states. But most parts of London look about like New York
or Chicago, or at least have the same feel. Holloway could be a
neighborhood in The Bronx. I wandered around that part of town after
visiting Highgate Cemetery, best known for the ostentations grave of Karl
Marx, which looks like an enormous Pez dispenser topped by a massive bust
of the man. They should rig it up so people can put a coin in the slot and
can make him talk. Then another coin will make him stop. 

Most of the day, though, consisted of hanging around with other Dylan
fans, first at the Troubadour, then at the Queen's Arms, which grew so
crowded that it was hard to breathe, but I managed to down some whiskey
with Bennyboy and company before joining the large and growing crowd in
the street outside. 

Tonight I had a seat in the west choir, which I picked up largely for the
novelty value - a seat behind the stage! From my angle I'd be seeing Bob
in profile most of the night, and from behind now and then when he stood
up. I could watch his hands as he played piano. I could see the sound man
at work. Best of all, when he first came on stage, I was able to see him
playing the piano, his back to the main crowd. Between songs, he'd often
turn to acknowledge the people in the back. 

"Watchtower" opened strong (you can tell when he says "so late"
instead of just "late" that he's probably into it tonight), but I
got the sense Dylan was distracted a bit, like there was something else
distracting him. He put more effort into finding new bits on piano
tonight, and made a few flubs in the singing. It was a strong show, but
that was a sense i couldn't shake.

The show kicked into drama when "Black Rider" began, and once again
the whole hall heard the sound of a woman shouting. Not the "I've just
seen a ghost" scream of last night, but something with more words. The
screams continued through the song, and at once point I saw a woman charge
down the aisle toward the stalls, then turn back to struggle with
security. Inititally it was assumed that it was the same woman from last
night, but later reports say that it was two women having a very rough
fight with each other, and not the same person as last night. So perhaps
the song is simply cursed. 

Though it was easy to imagine that Bob was being distracted by a crazed
fan or something at that point, the first hint of what was on his mind
came next, with the first of two new arrangements for the night: "My Own
Version of You" became the latest song to get the "stripped down to
nearly solo piano" treatment, with Tony adding only the occasional bowed
bass note and Keltner giving a cymbal the tiniest of taps now and then. It
was similar to the recent versions of "Key West" or the summer
"Can't Wait," and I thought it worked well on the song. I love these
sorts of arrangements, and I love that song. At the end I jumped to my
feet to cheer, and Bob turned toward the choir, smiling, and pointed up in
my direction. (My -general- direction, surely. That he was pointing right
at me is simply impossible and I mustn't let myself think it!) 

So, perhaps Dylan was just distracted knowing there was such a radical
redesign coming up. Without "My Own Version Of You" picking up the
pace as it normally does, it seemed we'd had a long run of quiet spooky
songs before "Crossing the Rubicon" and "Desolation Row."   

"Key West" was also new, reverting from last night's band
arrangement back to nearly solo piano, as it had been in the shows leading
up to London. But tonight it was played in a minor key, which was
strikingly different. 

The show remained strong, though perhaps not quite as excellent as night
one. Perhaps I'll hear the tape and think very differently! The mix in
the choir was odd - there seemed to be one row of speakers, carrying only
the vocals, pointing right at us, making Dylan himself seem very high up
in the mix. 

"River Flow" saw Dylan finding a piano riff he liked and experimenting
with it some, and "Baby Blue" continued to stun. There was quite a bit
less harp overall tonight. 

I'd thought that most of the post-show chatter would be about "My Own
Version Of You," but more of it was about the disruption in "Black
Rider" for the second straight night, each of us reporting what little
we'd seen of what went on. We'll be holding our breath before the song
tonight! 

Managed see folks such as Sergi, Ian Gallon, Stuart, and others at the
Queens Arms, but it was packed to the teeth, so many of us (Ray! Laura!
Trev!) repaired to the Gloucester Arms for a while until they, too, began
to close. I gathered into my troublemaking quartet with Nightly Moth,
Maddy, and Nathan, now joined by Marielle from Leeds, and at Marielle's
suggestion we took the tube into soho, pausing to pose for a photo where
we look like a 90s britpop band. We shall call ourselves The Rough and
Rowdy Outlaws. We are, perhaps, the children of the Almanac Singers-style
group we looked like in Wolverhampton pictures. We will be committed to
angst and authenticity, and in a few months we'll have at least two
members with PhDs. Watch out, Oasis. 

I was out too late, and I imagine I'll be out late again tonight, even
though my plane departs early the next morning. I regret nothing. 

A feature of watching YouTube videos of Bob's recent US outdoor shows was
seeing waiting staff carry refreshments to audience members, who
presumably had ordered using some kind of app on their phone. This was
happening right in front of Bob on stage but he didn't seem to bat an
eyelid. 

On Wednesday night in London it was a Bob show and so his rules. Phones
had to be secured in a locked pouch. This won the approval of some
audience members who had seen phone use causing disruption at other gigs,
even though it meant forming an orderly queue at the bar if you wanted a
drink. 

My seat put me front-on to the stage. Normally it would have been a good
one but not tonight. The stage was so dimly lit, and being behind or close
to his piano all night, Bob was often hard to see.  As nearly always, he
hardly spoke. 

Two standout performances for me, a powerful and timeless It Ain't Me Babe
and a dreamy Key West, dreamy that is until that handbrake turn in the
lyrics towards the end. Goodbye Jimmy Reed was hard to recognise during
the show but a video posted on YouTube a short while ago was proof of
another strong performance tonight, featuring a swaying Bob in relative
close-up and side-ways on, oh to have had that seat!   

Throughout the show Bob's singing was strong and mostly clear as he
delivered his relentlessly intense lyrics. His band were great, watching
his every move, while Bob joyously crashed piano chords and played parts.
The spirit was most definitely willing. So, a most enjoyable show that
went by too quickly. 

Outside the concert hall before the show a young bloke was strumming a
guitar and singing circa 65/66 Dylan songs. He seemed surprised when I put
£1 on his guitar case, explaining "I'm not busking."  Nice to also see
some younger people in the audience, including two very young school age
children. 

Joe Neanor 

What a thrill it was to see Bob for the first time in Europe and in no
less of a venue than the Royal Albert Hall.  Show started promptly at 8:00
as is be expected.  Overall just another stunning performance by Bob.  
What struck me were the stripped down and essentially acoustic versions of
the My Own Version of You,  Baby Blue and Key West. Bob had the crowd
hanging on every word of every line. Wow is all I can say. Desolation Row
was another highlight and the crowd gave Bob a thunderous applause at the
end. Only weak point for me was Masterpiece. While earlier this year I
caught some shows where the Puttin' Ritz thing worked but for me but did
not do so tonight. 

Every Grain of Sand to end the show for me is always an emotional moment
for me and always leave me with a tear in my eye. I believe this song to
be one of the greatest examples of song writing ever seen. The perfect
song.  The harmonica solo at the end was spectacular and brought the crowd
to its feet. And then like the sprit he is - he was gone - into the
mystic.

We were lucky with our seats in the Arena, just 10 rows from the front of
the stage. Bob's voice was clear & strong. Watchtower was a good opener
with intricate guitar lines introducing the lyrics. Once again Bob has
reverted to singing the first verse again at the end, so it no longer ends
with "two riders were approaching and the wind began to howl" which is
a pretty good ending. Radical re-design of When I Paint My Masterpiece
which was almost unrecognisable with a cha-cha-cha rhythm. Desolation Row
was done very fast with a taut drum rhythm. For me the most beautiful
moments were Rubicon which was blues funky, with a heartfelt "Got up
early so I could greet the Goddess of the Dawn", audible sigh on Dawn.
Watching the River Flow featured rollicking rock'n'roll piano. Key
West was pared down, no drums, no bass, and lovely. I Made Up My Mind To
Give Myself To You was barcarolle beautiful. Perhaps best of all was the
closing Every Grain of Sand, really slow intense vocals with lovely harp,
and a heartfelt "Don't have the inclination to look back on any
mistake". Here we are in the Royal Albert Hall. It's 58 years since
"Judas!" in Manchester. And he's not looking back. As TS Eliot put
it: "Old men ought to be explorers, Here and there does not matter, We
must be still and still moving."

My friend and I left half way through the set. Between us, over the years,
we've probably seen around 50 Dylan gigs from 1980 to now. And this will
almost certainly be our last. We were sitting at the back of the Albert
Hall, which no doubt seriously limited our enjoyment. The dim lights on
stage meant we couldn't see very much. We're used to often inaudible or
scrambled lyrics, as well as, of course, significant reworking of songs.
We smiled indulgently, with love, through 20 years of Bob's guitar
noodling. In the Guardian review of yesterday's gig Bob was compared, as a
pianist, to Les Dawson. But we thought this did a serious disservice to
Les Dawson. Neither of us are in any doubt at all that Bob is a genius, a
creative Titan to whom we will forever be in debt. His music has rooted
itself at the deepest level in our lives. But tonight we both felt that
his piano and guitar playing was amateurish at best. And, sad to say, none
of the songs we heard tonight seemed meant. Or felt. For the first time
ever at a Dylan gig, I was entirely unmoved. In fact, we were both bored.
We realise that we're not the first people to ask ourselves "what is this
sh*t?" but I'm afraid to say that that was the question we mulled over in
the Queens Arms afterwards. We had some theories. But you don't want to
hear about those. We still love and revere him, this side idolatry. But
virtually nothing that we love and revere was on display tonight.

Martin Nichols