Bob Dylan Live At the Veterans Something-Or-Other-Amphitheatre
/
I saw Bob Dylan live in concert for the second time at the Veterans United Home Loans Amphitheater in Virginia Beach. Inching into the gravel parking lot, my friends and I saw big signs stamped with warnings that tailgating was not just prohibited but illegal, not that it would’ve been particularly pleasant in the muggy coastal heat, anyway. So we settled for $14 beers inside the complex, a purchase I justified to myself by reasoning that since it’s a 24 oz can, it’s more like two $7 beers, and that’s not an absurd price to pay for a drink, right? Right?
It was the kind of crowd that you would expect from a venue with this name – a crowd that cheered louder for a flyover of Chinook military helicopters during “Ballad of a Thin Man” than they did for just about anything else. Not that this perturbed Dylan, of course. It seems pretty obvious by now that he’s not on tour for the money or some gratification that comes from the cheering masses but just because he likes to play whatever he wants. This is a trait that is charming to some and aggravating to many others.
Consider this chain of events from when I first saw him live last fall: Bob Dylan takes the stage precisely on time. No opener, no set decoration. Road cases are lying on the stage. He and his band play about twelve songs. No banter, no song titles. After the twelfth song, he angles his head toward the crowd and, almost as if he’s surprised that we’re there, says, “Oh! Thank you!” He introduces the band, plays about five more songs, takes a bow, and walks off the stage. Perfect.
True to his shape-shifting ways, the Bob Dylan I saw perform at the Outlaw Music Festival last month was different. Everything felt a bit looser, from the tan shirt he wore unbuttoned down almost to his belly button to the sometimes sloppy arrangements of songs like “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” which is the one 60s tune he’s played both times I’ve seen him. He was somewhat chattier, too, addressing the audience a grand total of four times (we counted) and chuckling into the mic when he fumbled some of the words to “Shooting Star.” Bob doesn’t play the guitar anymore, but when he gets excited about a song, he stands up while jamming his hands into the keys of his grand piano.
But forget the guitar-strumming, the kabuki makeup, and the offputting setlists. Bob Dylan could wear his pajamas and sing nothing but nursery rhymes and it would still be a don’t-miss-it-for-the-world performance because of that voice. Many vocalists lose their luster once they can’t hit the high notes anymore, but Dylan’s voice is still stunningly malleable even after six decades of performing. He sneers and bites through a cover of Chuck Berry’s “Little Queenie,” then softens into a croon for doo-wop standard “Mr. Blue.” Sure, a lot of the appeal for me comes from his Tom Waits-cragginess, but it’s also the little things you don’t expect, the little leaps up into falsetto (“and he walks up to YOU when he hears you speak”), the ends of phrases that sound like snide little comments only you can hear.
When you hear Bob Dylan sing, it’s hard to imagine that he’ll sing that specific song that specific way ever again. He’ll start a line during the buildup to a verse just to see what it sounds like in words wherever it seems like they belong. His longtime drummer, Jim Keltner, described him in an interview as being almost like a jazz vocalist, and you could really hear it on that Wednesday evening in Virginia Beach. Hoping to sing along to “Ballad of a Thin Man” or “Simple Twist of Fate”? Forget about it. It’s a wonderful gift to hear a song you love and to be forced to pay such close attention, to constantly wonder how the next line will be delivered.
Bob Dylan is 83 years old. He’s been around long enough that some of his songs about old age are nearly 30 years old themselves. And he’s still got it. The band is rock solid, the voice is as interesting as ever, and the songs speak for themselves. Go see Bob Dylan because whatever tour date you end up at, no one else will see anything like it again.
John Dietz is a writer and musician based in Virginia. You can find them on Twitter @johndbdietz or Substack at https://johndietz.substack.com.
