Bob Dylan
O2 Arena
"The writings on the wall, come read it, come see what it say," Dylan hisses on Thunder On The Mountain. Everybody here already has their opinion on his modern day incarnation, but is still eager to see it confirmed in the flesh, as well as catch a classic or ten in the process.
Trekking to the soulless vacuum of the O2 Arena is far from ideal, plus Dylan in 2009 is not the performer of the past – performer is the wrong word as there is no sense of a show being put on for the audience, it is more observation of an artist at work.
The differences are not subtle: he does not play guitar, talk to the audience or bow to such conventions as playing his songs as they were recorded. Yet it is still thoroughly enthralling, from the rattling, groovy din of Maggie's Farm to the gliding flow of When The Deal Goes Down.
He spans the length of his illustrious career, choosing choice cuts throughout to appease connoisseurs of all eras. Some of his reinventions are roaring successes – The Times They Are A-Changin' is reinvigorated with new passion and vitality. Others, like closer Blowin' In The Wind, sound tired despite their reworking.
Nevertheless, the playing is consistently gripping, mysterious rhythms being conjured from the accomplished players backing Bob's own nifty keyboard work, building from settled structures devised by Dylan and revised in a flash on riveting moments like Po' Boy and Things Have Changed.
It is the showstoppers that lift the often confused, always curious crowd from eagerness to elation. Highway 61 Revisited is re-imagined with added bite and zest, Bob's band cutting loose as his voice curls around its timeless tale.
All Along The Watchtower is a booming encore opener, with harmonica playing from Dylan adding a dimension. Beforehand, Like A Rolling Stone lends momentous presence, delivered with shivering, understated power.
His much-debated voice revels in the newer numbers such as Workingman' Blues, its familiarity here contrasting with the sideways glances The Lonesome Ballad of Hattie Carroll provokes and generally sounding clear and endearing enough.
As he thanks his audience as "friends" and finally introduces his slick group, a willingness to interact with the vast audience throughout is longed for. But it wouldn't be Dylan if he didn't annoy, confuse and inflame as much as he thrills, shocks and comforts.
The Never Ending Tour will continue to far off lands, with subtle alterations distinguishing shows from others. Regardless, the audiences will gaze on with adoration and infuriation, Dylan satisfying his own urge to play as much as his fans' desire to watch. People would pack out venues for a glimpse of their hero even if he wasn't any good any more; thankfully, it just so happens that he is.
O2 Arena
"The writings on the wall, come read it, come see what it say," Dylan hisses on Thunder On The Mountain. Everybody here already has their opinion on his modern day incarnation, but is still eager to see it confirmed in the flesh, as well as catch a classic or ten in the process.
Trekking to the soulless vacuum of the O2 Arena is far from ideal, plus Dylan in 2009 is not the performer of the past – performer is the wrong word as there is no sense of a show being put on for the audience, it is more observation of an artist at work.
The differences are not subtle: he does not play guitar, talk to the audience or bow to such conventions as playing his songs as they were recorded. Yet it is still thoroughly enthralling, from the rattling, groovy din of Maggie's Farm to the gliding flow of When The Deal Goes Down.
He spans the length of his illustrious career, choosing choice cuts throughout to appease connoisseurs of all eras. Some of his reinventions are roaring successes – The Times They Are A-Changin' is reinvigorated with new passion and vitality. Others, like closer Blowin' In The Wind, sound tired despite their reworking.
Nevertheless, the playing is consistently gripping, mysterious rhythms being conjured from the accomplished players backing Bob's own nifty keyboard work, building from settled structures devised by Dylan and revised in a flash on riveting moments like Po' Boy and Things Have Changed.
It is the showstoppers that lift the often confused, always curious crowd from eagerness to elation. Highway 61 Revisited is re-imagined with added bite and zest, Bob's band cutting loose as his voice curls around its timeless tale.All Along The Watchtower is a booming encore opener, with harmonica playing from Dylan adding a dimension. Beforehand, Like A Rolling Stone lends momentous presence, delivered with shivering, understated power.
His much-debated voice revels in the newer numbers such as Workingman' Blues, its familiarity here contrasting with the sideways glances The Lonesome Ballad of Hattie Carroll provokes and generally sounding clear and endearing enough.
As he thanks his audience as "friends" and finally introduces his slick group, a willingness to interact with the vast audience throughout is longed for. But it wouldn't be Dylan if he didn't annoy, confuse and inflame as much as he thrills, shocks and comforts.
The Never Ending Tour will continue to far off lands, with subtle alterations distinguishing shows from others. Regardless, the audiences will gaze on with adoration and infuriation, Dylan satisfying his own urge to play as much as his fans' desire to watch. People would pack out venues for a glimpse of their hero even if he wasn't any good any more; thankfully, it just so happens that he is.
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