Bob Dylan at The Royal Albert Hall: Rough, Rowdy, Reverent and Real
Last night (12th November 2024) I went to see Bob Dylan at the Royal Albert Hall. It was the first night of his final three shows in Europe, bringing to a close his “Rough and Rowdy Ways” world tour.
For me, and so many others, going to see Bob Dylan in concert when he’s over our way, is something we have to do. Even if we don’t feel like it. Like any event which attracts like-minded supporters, there is an unsaid understanding of what Bob Dylan means to us all and the impact of his music, lyrics, story-telling and gravelly delivery. I use the word supporters with hesitancy. Fans is too shallow. Disciples is going a bit too far. Imagine a venn diagram with these three words, you’ll find most of us in the overlapping plectrum in the middle.
Only one plectrum last night for Bob (It Ain’t Me Babe). After that it was strictly vocals, piano and harmonica. His vocal clarity was better than the last time I saw him, though the wonderful acoustics of the Royal Albert Hall meant that all the sounds from the stage resonated and reverberated with at once penetrating and ghostly tones.
His set was a mixture of songs from his latest album, seminal classics from the ‘60s, and gems from often forgotten albums in between his years as the radical “voice of a generation”, and the Grandfather of folk rock.
The stage was dimly lit and small. There’s no hype at a Bob Dylan concert. He and his unassuming, magnificent band, are there to play, not receive adulation. And, with our mobile phones safely stored in our Yondr pouches (hence I have no photos of the concert), we were there to listen. While his voice was functioning well, I did sympathise with people in the audience who weren’t familiar with the lyrics. Some were hard to pick out. But does that matter? Not to me. Many’s the time I’ve been at a music concert and heard every word, but not understood what was really being said, or felt any connection. Last night, not every word was clear, but the truth, the memories, the admiration, and the appreciation was in circular abundance in this magnificent rouge musical chamber.
Musically and lyrically Bob Dylan is a fidgeter. He’s constantly exploring new musical styles and can’t help but tinker with songs he recorded decades ago. The opening song last night was the iconic All Along The Watchtower. Guitarists the world over love this song as it consists of only three chords which repeat themselves in seeming perpetuity: easy for beginners to learn, and a clean musical canvas for rocking lead guitarists to play piercing riffs over. Last night Bob reduced it down to one chord for the entire song. Amazing!
It’s not only musical refurbishments that take place on stage, but lyrical ones as well. To Be Alone With You, save for the title refrain, underwent a complete renovation leaving only the foundations and an old staircase intact.
The night passed quickly, as all good nights do. The most musically magical moments came when Bob picked up the harmonica. This is an ability that hasn’t deteriorated with age as he riffed across a star gaze of musical styles with deftness, agility and (as the kids say), rizz.
The closing song of the final song, Every Grain of Sand, brought the audience to its feet. As one. Bob acknowledged the ovation in a typically understated and slightly uncomfortable fashion. His band too applauded. This was an appreciation of a great concert, an unparalleled legacy, and the great impression this reclusive, diminutive mega star had on all of us.
I say all of us. As I was leaving one woman said it was the worst concert she’d ever been to, that he mumbled all his words and was ruining songs with weird, off-key piano. Fair point. But one can only sympathise that she hasn’t yet found Bob. Maybe one day she will.
This article was written by Robbie Roberts, a wedding and events pianist.