At age 73, Bob Dylan’s aura in The O2 last night suggested he now knows the answers to the questions he’s always been singing.
He replaced the traditional sorrow of closing song ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’ with upbeat cockiness. He joyfully, sarcastically, let the lyrics bounce along, stressing the ‘You know the answer, my friend’ line as if we did know, but weren’t as wise enough to recognise it.
The reluctantly-titled Prince of Protest even substituted the simple acoustic guitar composition with a full blues sound, rendering it initially unrecognisable. And he didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass if the audience liked it or not.
But that didn’t matter. The hugely diverse crowd of die-hard hippies, well-off grandparents and teenage punks with greasy Mohawks were all so excited to love whatever Dylan experience they were about to get that they even welcomed the sound tech guy with cheers.
The first words of opening song ‘Things Have Changed’ were drowned out, such was the audible excitement. Dylan followed with ‘She Belonged To Me’ before moving on to tracks from newer material from albums Tempest and Together Through Life.
Dylan’s vocal chords have had to deal with years of raging, nicotine and a never-ending tour, and some odd lines were lost to his croak, but he seemed to be enjoying himself and putting effort into his acoustics.
He never mumbled, and when notes failed to come across, Dylan’s harmonica rang out as his true voice. Loud, pure, and the stuff of legend, its notes waned and rose, pulling the crowd with it on songs such as ‘Tangled Up In Blue’ and ‘Simple Twist Of Fate’.
When not standing at the mic or playing the harmonica, Dylan didn’t pick up a guitar at any point, instead favouring the keyboard, which is to be expected these days but was still a disappointment. The band behind him, however, was tight and refined as Dylan led them on a few more chaotic arrangements from behind the keys.
Yet overall, the night was never raucous enough to slant Dylan’s white wide brim hat. He sang slow and guttural; ominously with a heavy dose of blues. It was contained but eerily enchanting and helped Dylan turn the audience into a slowly swaying mass of mesmerised pudding while he was snarled through ‘Love Sick’.
Fans and critics debate whether we should even keep going to see Bob Dylan. He doesn’t sing the old arrangements and he doesn’t engage in any on-stage banter. He doesn’t bow and doesn’t even look at the audience much. But, last night in Dublin, Dylan still produced a show that fans couldn’t get from any bootleg vinyl or shoddy Youtube video.
And, really, that’s all we can ask for.