CONCERT REVIEW
Bob Dylan at Smith College
by Seth Rogovoy(NORTHAMPTON, Mass., April 16, 1997) -- Looking very much the dignified country squire in white cowboy hat, white, cowboy-styled dinner jacket, black dress pants and cowboy boots, Bob Dylan presented the image of a folk-rock singer who has found the secret of aging gracefully and who has no intention of hanging up his rock 'n' roll shoes at a concert at Smith College on Tuesday night.
Dylan brought his current tour of Northeastern college towns to John M. Greene Hall, where before a sold-out crowd ranging from young neo- hippies to veterans from the original hippie contingent, the legendary rock songwriter mixed old favorites with some obscure tunes from his ample repertoire. While a few of the songs were given substantially reworked arrangements, most of them rang familiar, with melodies and hooks accentuated and internal rhythms exploited for maximum effect.
Those who had not seen Dylan in the last year or two were treated to a born-again Bob, this time reinvented as a gunslinging guitar hero. While his vocals crackled and snapped with trademark character over the hard-driving, country-rock and blues-rock arrangements of his five- piece band, it was undoubtedly Dylan's own guitar-playing that came as the biggest revelation to the crowd. Apparently the lengthy time Dylan spent touring with the Grateful Dead in the late-'80s and early-'90s paid off, as the one-time hacker seemed positively infused with the spirit of the late Jerry Garcia, using his songs -- much like Garcia did -- as excuses to investigate the sonic possibilities of the guitar as an improvisational instrument.
In Dylan's case, unlike the Dead's, this never came at the expense of the songs themselves. "All Along the Watchtower," for example -- one of the most tired and cliche of all rock songs -- was presented as a bone- chilling, galloping ride into an apocalyptic sunset. Drummer David Kemper and bassist Tony Garnier propelled the song forward with maximum impact, while Dylan played incendiary duets with guitarist Larry Campbell and pedal-steel guitarist Bucky Baxter.
"Shelter From the Storm" followed. Taken at a relaxed pace seemingly set down into the Band's arrangement of "The Weight," the song also told a story of apocalyptic uncertainty. "Watching the River Flow" was rendered as a country-shuffle in double-time, and featured some very Robbie Robertson-like guitar licks by Campbell, who like Kemper is new to Dylan's band.
"Silvio" was substantially reworked from its original version. To its benefit, the song now packs the hard-rock crunch of a Rolling Stones number, and its chorus alludes to the signature riff of John Mellencamp's "Paper and Fire."
In one of a number of allusions to friends who have passed on, Dylan kicked off his acoustic set with Garcia's "Friend of the Devil," treating it as a country-folk ballad. This tune also featured some of Dylan's most melodic singing of the night. At the end of "Don't Think Twice (It's Alright)," an image of the late Allen Ginsberg, who at various times throughout his career was associated with Dylan, was projected on a backdrop.
A highlight of the show was "John Brown," a Dylan composition that dates to 1963. Dylan sang the narrative -- a traditionally-styled, folk ballad about a son sent off to war who comes back with his face blown off -- with a harrowing intensity that showed the singer has lost none of his ability to evoke political drama out of a simple story.
After the mid-show acoustic set, the crowd rushed the stage and Dylan greeted them with "Stuck Inside of Mobile (With the Memphis Blues Again)," electric in more ways than one. If Dylan seemed a bit sad or even dour up to this point, he came to life, seemingly swept along by the crowd and by the jaunty, surreal nature of the song. The set came to a close with "Leopard-Skin Pillbox Hat," a crunching blues from the same era. If Dylan's voice seemed a bit tired at times, his phrasing was as masterful as ever, and on this tune in particular he found new resonances in the lines, and echoed them with some blistering blues licks on his guitar.
The three-encore portion of the show also drew on classic-era Dylan. "Like a Rolling Stone" still bit to the bone 30-plus years after it first became the anthem of a generation; "It Ain't Me, Babe" was tender and poignant; "Rainy Day Women #12 and 35," better known for its tag line, "Everybody must get stoned," was as giddy and circus-like as the original, and sent the crowd off on a high note.
Dylan turns 56 next month. But given the focus and intensity of his performance and the power of his material to remain relevant and compellingly suggestive, there is no reason to think he won't continue to please, surprise, cajole and win over new audiences for years to come. The book on Dylan is far from over -- whole chapters remain to be written.
[This review originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on April 17, 1997. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1997. All rights reserved.]
Seth Rogovoy
rogovoy@berkshire.net
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