Last night we went to see Bob Dylan and his band play a concert here in Tampa, Florida. Where else but in Florida could you buy a $60 ticket to see Bob Dylan in concert on the day of the performance? Well, maybe it is more than a lack of culture in Florida, maybe the warm weather just draws folks out to the beach and they get too tired to do much else afterward, maybe Jimmy Buffet is just too much more of a draw for the parrotheads, or maybe the times have truly changed. I don't understand it.
But we had a great time. At the stroke of eight, the band stepped out onto the stage, followed five seconds later by the man himself. A silent twenty minute film preceded their arrival. There was no opening act, no prerecorded music. Bob Dylan played guitar, his B-3 sounding organ, his harmonica and sang it all himself. There was a bass player, rhythm guitar, lead guitar, keyboard/banjo player, and a drummer; all totally into the legend.
Bob played and sang 17/18 songs, all with his raspy voice. The man turned 69 in May. He wore a light grey hat with tiny red and white feathers tucked into the headband, black pants with two reddish/pink stripes down the sides, black pointy shoes, a black jacket with silver buckles, and a striped shirt with a bolo tie. (The only other time I saw him, he was a man in a white suit on a spiritual quest.)