folk rock blues
“You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy, you may call me anything but no matter what you say, you're gonna have to serve somebody.” Not exactly Dylan's finest lyrical hour, yet strangely apt as the mile long queue to The Roundhouse stood at the mercy of fluorescent security guards who were taking their job as seriously as possible, considering that they are essentially human barriers. The first in-line had been there since midday and presumably ran straight to the facilities on gaining entry, losing their much-coveted position at the front of the stage to rival Bob-heads. As Dylan's performance history is more chequered than a racing flag, to say that the 1800-strong crowd was full of trepidation would be an understatement. The £50 price tag on the ticket was irrelevant, as Dylan fans would pay double that in the blink of an eye; it was the fact that this was probably the closest the majority of them would ever get to their iconic hero. With expectations at an all time high due to the intimacy of the venue, a converted railway turning station with fantastic acoustics, if ever Dylan did feel pressure, it would be tonight; true to form, he arrived with a nonchalant attitude and turned out a performance that should rank among his recent best.
Although it would have been ironically appropriate for him to open with a song from the evangelical album 'Slow Train Coming', thankfully Dylan refrained, instead launching into a vamped up version of 'Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat', which segued neatly into a beautiful and surprisingly melodic, 'Don't Think Twice, It's Alright'. The voice that has brought him such controversy over the years was both strong and clear(ish) and the bar-blues rock of the band did not overpower him, which can often be the case in larger venues. While his extensive back catalogue could allow an alternate greatest hits set a dozen times over, Dylan decided to serenade his fans with an amenable blend of old and new, famous and obscure. Set favourites, 'Like a Rolling Stone' and 'All Along The Watchtower' were greeted like old friends, while 2001's Love and Theft was pillaged for five numbers including a fantastically jaunty 'Po' Boy', it's delicate refrain snarled from lips equally full of self pity and deprecation.
The encore ended with an extended rendition of 'Blowin' in the Wind', with Dylan stepping out from behind the proverbial audience-shield that his organ has become of recent years and rocking the house with a trademark harmonica solo, all the while appearing like some crazed southern prospector in his token fedora and white linen suit. Rumours circulating before the show had posited the performance as a stripped bare acoustic set; it would appear that Dylan fans have come full circle after the embracing of his 'going electric' in 1965, yearning once again for his folksy roots. This was simply another stop on his never-ending tour, yet with Dylan and his band held up to the light by the intimacy of the venue; once again, he proved that it's not dark yet, and not even getting there.