So there we were, with feet like setting cement, standing in the cold torrential rain amongst the beggars and the con men. Those of which were now heckling us like old fashioned market peddlers, channeling themselves all the way from the 02 Apollo to Ardwick Green Park. Whether it was a plea for spare tickets, a beg for money for an ‘ostel for the night, or a means to sell overpriced posters and t-shirts, you must believe that they were there, and interrupting each other too. The impact an 81 year old man can make is incredible. And tonight after all was a big one, Dylan’s first Manchester show in 5 years, and many around me celebrated it’s sudden announcement, ignoring the underwater city at their feet. Instead gushing like children, impressed that Dylan still returns to Manchester all these years after an infamous Free Trade Hall concert in 1966.
Upon entering the old theatre, we were told the last thing Dylan wants to see is a sea of phone lights. His team had therefore hired a company, Yondor, to police us at the door, placing our phones in small locking pouches, leaving us virtually in the past. Because of this, the furniture of the Apollo felt just that little bit more changed. For the better I thought, more classy. It’s insane really. There were no disturbances at all, no unneeded flash lights, or harsh ringtones, just the intimacy of Dylan’s low light set, shining on a curtained backdrop.
2 hours of silence was to ensue upon entering, and the crowds reaction was beyond interesting. After some habitual discomfort, filled with many fiddling with their phone pouches, drowning their anxieties in weakened and overpriced san miguel, they came out of their caves. We all got to know each other the old fashioned way, by socialising. One man, long haired and well dressed, introduced himself to everyone, walking up and down the theatre aisles, making humorous comments about the phone ban, and about his experience listening to Dylan. I packed a book, Hubert Selby Jr’s ‘The Demon’ , not expecting talkative people, but ended up having a deep dive discussion about Selby’s work with the guy next to me, who happened to have read all his books years back. Another woman seemed concerned that her hat might be blocking my view and asked if i’d like her to remove it. If it weren’t for the molten seats numbing all of our backsides it might’ve been completely perfect.
A few hours later the stage lights shifted. Seating himself behind a wooden box piano , Bob Dylan entered soberly, followed by his well dressed entourage, all wearing black hats, forming shadows around their double basses, drums, guitars, lap steels, fiddles, etcetera. This group pulled no punches and dived deep into their set, filled with craftily chosen numbers, evidently picked out to set a contemplative mood for the majority of the show. There were no obvious crowd pleasers because of this, but this didn’t detract from the performance one bit. A bluesy rendition of ‘Watching The River Flow’ came in, followed by ‘Most Likely You Go Your Way and You Go Mine‘, where Dylan’s drummer shined especially, setting heavy attacks on the drums, each one bouncing off the stalls just as potently as they do on the Blonde On Blonde LP. Dylan went on to play almost the entire of his new album, ‘Rough and Rowdy Ways’ (if you don’t count the 17 minute closer), here adhering to a uniform trend of standing up for his favourite lines, so that the audience could hear his serious enthusiasm.
The audience sat silent for much of the set, open mouthed by Dylan’s evocative deliveries. When he did a particularly smoky rendition of ‘Crossing The Rubicon‘ this got to breaking point. Dylan moving from his signature singing voice, to his gravelly spoken word, standing and sitting and leaning his hands on top of the piano; his double bass player dancing around the fretboard wonderfully.
A few times the crowd were brought out of their awe filled stupor, transforming their focused energy into rousing cheers, most notably in patriotic fashion when Dylan sang about the ‘British bad boys, The Rolling Stones‘ on ‘I Contain Multitudes‘. At other times they came close to tears, as Dylan took us down the tracks of his early years, and ruminated about his life and old age on the musically reworked ‘Key West‘, and the swaying ‘I’m Making Up My Mind To Give Myself To You’. He really emptied his lungs on the latter, and the audience bobbed their heads in unison to it’s waltzey groove.
Despite the seriousness of much of his set, occasionally Dylan’s playful facial expressions slipped through the cracks, leaving shadowey ghosts of the young man he once was. He played ‘To Be Alone With You‘, and some of the notes came wildly close to his non smoking Nashville Skyline period, closer than we may ever hear again. It was wonderful. As well as him doing the most playful honky tonk rendition of ‘I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight‘ , where Dylan figuratively danced over the piano.
The best moment of the set however was saved for the closing moment, 1981’s ‘Every Grain Of Sand’. During this track Dylan picked up his harmonica again and played for an entire minute, despite his arthritis. His playing sent chills down everyones spines in the audience. The biggest cheer of the night followed, everyone stood, some ran down the middle of the aisle and held plastic beer cups up high, and the stage darkened.
Everyone was silent. Dylan’s structure as usual was of course a surprise, and many were hungry for an encore. They slowed us all down on the beer stained steps, each one mournfully looking back at the immense stage crew packing down, while we slowly made our way back into the drizzly Mancunion streets we came out of. ‘It always rains in Manchester’ one man remarked to an unprepared American. The American told him he came to see Dylan in England, because apparently ‘you brits appreciate him more. we’re spoiled‘. Interesting to hear he’d travel so far. Massive queues formed around the Yondor vendors and toilets. I got out quietly, only to be splashed by a speeding car, smudging the ink on my excessive handwritten notes. The one con, I suppose, of a phoneless show.
