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Bob Dylan 991109 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania


Subject: philly
From: Peter Stone Brown 
Date: Wed, 10 Nov 1999 01:39:06 -0500

Bob Dylan kind of has a history of playing a lot of standards
when he comes to Philadelphia, especially at the bigger venues. 
Back in '97 when he was pulling out the likes of "Blind Willie
McTell," "Wheels on Fire," and the occasional "One of Us Must
Know" and "Seven Days" in other parts of the country Philly got
"Maggie's Farm" and "Thin Man" and so it was tonight, but don't
let that part of the setlist fool you.

For his only show actually in Philly in the year of '99 Dylan
made sure to bring his ever-changing tour with him.

The show was completely different in mood, texture and feel than
the previous night's show 90 miles to the South in Baltimore. 
And if some of the setlist seemed to recall the days when
"Maggie's Farm" and "Thin Man" were regular parts of the setlist,
the performance tonight was nothing short of excellent and its
own way once again full of surprises.

Instead of opening the acoustic set with "I Am The Man, Thomas,"
he pulled out "Hallelujah I'm Ready" which worked just as well.

Then he pulls out the song I was hoping to here in Baltimore,
"The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll" and it was brilliantly
intense from the start.  In fact the whole acoustic set was
perfect!  It seemed kind of lowkey, but there was a quiet unified
force in the band tonight and each song had a subtle burning
power.  At Carrol's conclusion, he reached two songs back from
the same album, his 3rd, Times They Are A-Changin', the album
that totally sold me on Dylan a few centuries ago for a masterful
"Boots of Spanish Leather."

And then came one of the best surprises of the night, "A
Satisfied Mind," the old Porter Wagoner country hit that serves
as the intro to Saved.  And tonight Bob did it the way it's
usually done, country style with fantastic harmonies from Larry
and Charlie in one truly glorious rendition.  (And for those who
pay attention to such things, it should be noted that Ian &
Sylvia also covered this song on their album Play One More, the
same album that includes a song Dylan has tried on a few
occasions, "The French Girl.")

An equally superb "Mama You Been On My Mind" came next followed
by "Tangled Up In Blue." Now I realize a lot of people are tired
of seeing this song in the setlist and sometimes I get tired of
it myself.  But there's one thing about this song, other than
being an incredible song (and one which I know from personal
experience is a lot fun to play), Dylan never sings this song the
same way.  I just saw three shows in a row and every night he
found a new angle, a new mood, something else to search for.

Dylan was obviously in good spirits (and looking great too--for
the first time this tour I had seats that were as close to the
stage as you could get) and at some point during the acoustic set
he said, (referring to Temple University), "I always wanted to
play here.  My buddy, Bill Cosby went to school here.  We used to
play the clubs."  Or something like that, the last sentence
sounded mumbled from where I was sitting.

Big surprise number 2 came with the opening song of the electric
segment, another Johnny Cash classic, "Folsom Prison Blues,"
again excellently done with Charlie playing the famous Luther
Perkins guitar lead.  And of course this begs the question, is
Dylan going to pull out a different Johnny Cash tune in this part
of the show every night for the rest of the remaining shows, and
if he does, that will be something.

The lights went down and somebody (I'm pretty sure it was Bob)
played the opening lick to "Thin Man" while the huddle was going
on--since the lights were down you couldn't see, and then there
was a pause and sure enough it was "Thin Man," and though this
was a song I was really tired of seeing a year or so ago, tonight
it was just fine and the perfect lead in to surprise number 3,
"Man of Peace."  And a lowdown rocking version it was too,
followed by "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight," featuring an extended
gorgeous pedal steel solo from Larry, followed by a simply
stunning "Shooting Star."

And while another past staple, "Maggie's Farm" closed the set, it
had a funky rhythmic groove that could not be denied.

"Love Sick" as usual was the first encore and "Don't Think Twice"
as many times as I've heard it, it was exquisite with Larry's
finger-picking setting the tone, followed by a typically fun but
powerhouse version of "Not Fade Away."  Dylan bowed, the band
left the stage the lights went down.

And then they came back!  "Blowin' In The Wind."  And while some
people may complain about this song, the song that initially made
Dylan famous, there's something about those harmonies on
"Wiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnndddddddd" that hit me every time and tonight
they were as moving and powerful as any of this arrangement I've
witnessed.

But neither the audience nor Dylan was going anywhere and the
band kicked into what might be the most spectacularly rocking
version of "Highway 61 Revisited" ever done anywhere.  It didn't
just kick ass.  It FUCKING KICKED ASS.  And it seemed to go on
forever and everyone in the band was into it and obviously having
one hell of a time.  On the last verse Dylan really stretched it
out into "down on highway sixteeeeeeeeeee one" in one blazingly
nasty voice, then Charlie Sexton tore into this supersonic but
totally funky guitar solo that wass just beyond any beyond any of
the usual words used to describe guitar solos and then Larry
answered him with a solo that was equally awesome and then back
to Charlie and back to Larry and Bob might've gotten in a few
licks there too, but mostly he seemed more than happy to play
rhythm and Tony is jumping up on the drum riser and driving the
rhythm with Kemper and Dylan's bopping around just digging it and
looking as pleased as I've ever seen him look if you can imagine
Bob Dylan looking pleased and it just kept going on and on,
higher and higher and then it was over.

And once again a setlist on paper is not the show.  And if the
Philly show was not as wildly adventurous as the previous four or
five shows (especially Baltimore) the musicianship was evident
throughout and this band was as tight, perhaps the most tight
I've ever seen them.  They were in the pocket from the first note
to the last.



-- 
"Where the angels' voices whisper to the souls of previous times." 
--Bob Dylan
Peter Stone Brown 
e-mail: peterb@erols.com   
http://www.tangible-music.com/peterstonebrown/


Subject: Philly Notes From: Drayla Date: 10 Nov 1999 05:47:03 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com The Apollo is a very functional, pleasant place to see a show. Excellent sightlines. Plenty of tickets for sale at face value outside at showtime. Phil and friends make excellent ambient sound to which one may get acquainted to the arena. Susan Tedeschi was wonderful playing and singing the last 2 songs. Bob comes out with strobes and the usual pleasant gospelly opener I think. Hattie Carol certainly suprised and delighted me at 2. Boots of Spanish Leather 3... Others will provide the set list no doubt... People were not kidding about TUIB kicking ass anymore. Sounded bluesier and harder driving than I recall.. Emphasis on growling TANGled rather than howling Bluuuuue... I liked it! Oh my.. Folsom Prison Blues, I think that was electric. Sounded wonderful. The Cash tunes are great to hear! Later on Shooting Star was as touching as Ive ever heard or better... Ballad of Thin Man returned and rocked nicely as well and Man of Peace, no doubt named after the 7-10 dead philly cd was very cool, tho I am easily impressed whenver Bob touches Infidels. Bob crossovered to Dead with Maggie's Farm electric, rambly country not the smoking blues sound he opened up at Trocadero with in 97... The usual array of encore hits (one or two more than usual?) raised the roof and had Dylan/Deadheads spinning... A fabulous show... glad I decided to get my but down there at the last minute. Thanks to all those who have been recommending this as a must see tour....Great crowd too, everyone I was around in the upper deck seemed totally into both bands...Yeah I'd go back again 2moro!! And I'd say 4 hours of music is a fine value for 30 bucks. Cheers ~ Theo The Bridge that You Travel on, Goes to the Babylon, girl with the Rose in her hair~~~~ Visit my Dylan related web page at http://members.aol.com/Drayla/smog.html
Date: Fri, 12 Nov 1999 02:06:50 +0000 From: "S. D. Walter" To: karlerik@monet.no Subject: Temple Reflections From what I can tell, Temple University is located in a war zone. I have never been to North Philadelphia before, but I had been warned about it--warned not to wander off-campus, especially--so as we get off the 95 exit onto Callowhill, I'm uncertain what to expect. Soon enough it's clear: Desolation Row, without the pennywhistles. Deserted streets at 7:30; we are mired in traffic on Broad Street for nearly half an hour, yet are almost glad for the company. A streetscape resembling that of places closer to home--Newark, say, or parts of the Oranges--but perhaps even worse: nothing open save your occasional gas station, bar, or convenience store; every shop and church and restaurant already locked down, almost hidden behind metal bars, barricades, razor wire, and fencing--even the fast-food places seem to have more layers of protection than your average American embassy; drug traffic easily visible in darkened side lots; insanity smashing up against street corners, the mentally ill, untreated, dancing to music from boom boxes ... ashes, ashes, around and around; but most of all, an eerie silence. An unmistakable aura of danger. This in America? At the turn of the millennium? It's the economy, stupid. Somehow I don't think the residents of this neighborhood are in the throes of any fin de sicle malaise (based largely on worries about the performance of their mutual funds or the size of their neighbor's SUV). I imagine they must be thinking, instead, that some things never change. And where are all these white people headed? --someone might ask himself, herself, catching sight of the snarled line of cars. White people, mostly from middle-class backgrounds, heading through North Philly for a night out with a performer sometimes described as our finest "white blues singer." Surely Bob Dylan must be conscious of the irony. How could one not be? At the same time, there is no sense in wallowing in guilt about it either. Guilt-wallowing can get frighteningly close to exultation at times. And I'd rather exult in the music. Finally we reach the Temple campus, islanded in a sea of artificial light. The Apollo is a new facility, sports-oriented and basic, but at least offering decent sightlines, cheaper beer than Holmdel, and a lot of bathrooms to finish out the cycle. We arrive toward the end of Phil Lesh's set and decide just to wait to find our seats, listening from the hallway to what sounds like a fine "Lovelight" with (we later discover) Susan Tedeschi on vocals. From this vantage on the tour, I don't think anyone would question that Dylan's choice to play with Lesh and Friends has proven a great idea--whether their influence on his setlists has been direct or indirect really doesn't matter; the point is, it's happening. To briefly comment on the Deadhead scene: Dylan fans have been a witness to elements of it in the recent past, especially I think since 1995; but not since 1987, I'd imagine, have they seen so many hardcore "family" members together at once. I remember being on the fringes of that scene myself at one time, although I probably made it only to ten, fifteen shows all told--and these memories, I'll admit, feed my ambivalence toward it now. I wonder if many (later) Dylan fans share in this experience. On the one hand, some of these people are hilarious. And you also have to admire the examples of, yes, family values--such as loyalty, respect, and generosity--displayed by others. On the other hand, it's impossible to ignore the hollow stares on many of the faces passing by. I couldn't help recalling an introduction Richard Thompson made to his song "Uninhabited Man" (from his stunning new album Mock Tudor) at a concert in Princeton earlier this month: "this is for those who got the bad acid," he said ... "the ones that fell by the wayside." As opposed to marijuana, which is now clinically proven to be good for you (or so I've read ...), L.S.D. and the other synthetics can be terrifying drugs, people, with the potential for long-term damage. Again, personal memories here. And what's truly ironic, I think, is that these drugs enforce a kind of solipsism totally antithetical to the values listed above. I suppose the question I'd like to ask would be, why do you need it? Poetry--aural, visual--is God's wine, Emerson said. It consists in the ravishment of the intellect, not in its destruction. But as I am sure I'll be told "don't criticize what you can't understand," I'll let the matter drop. Anyway, though I'm extremely happy, as I said, at the results of the Dylan-Lesh matchup, I do find that these double bills can be somewhat wearing after a while. It's a lot to take in at one time, not to mention at very high volume; still, with Van Morrison or Joni Mitchell, I would never have dreamed of missing a note. Tonight, however, I want to save myself for Dylan--I haven't seen him for a while now (since the Holmdel stop of the Simon Luxury Liner tour) and, more important, the setlists. The setlists! We take our seats, low on the second level with a perfect "window" down on stage left; perfect for me, as I start to feel claustrophobic just looking out over the mass of humanity crunched tight against the barrier. You have to respect the dedication of these people; I know I couldn't take it: breathing is an absolute priority for me. At any rate, from where we sit you can see the band ascend the staircase below, taking their positions amidst flashing lights. Lights up: there he is, what a jacket! That's David Kemper, I can actually see him, not just The Hat! Lord, I hope I'm ready. ... to go. Hallelujah. That's what I want to say about this entire concert: Hallelujah. Praise be. This is the Dylan show I have been waiting for a long time (forever?) to see. It seems almost like a miracle to me, what he has been doing with his sets. And like any miracle should, it has filled my heart with rejoicing. It should be noted, I feel, that none of what we are hearing now would be possible without the fundamental shift that occurred in Europe earlier in 1999--I'm referring, of course, to the re-structuring of Dylan's set so as to begin with an extended acoustic section. Not to get carried away, but I do believe that this decision will emerge as one of the most significant artistic choices of the Neverending Tour. Dylan, quite bluntly but without any fanfare at all, freed himself from the burden of becoming just an old rock and roller ... let more silence, slowness back into his performances, more room for older voices to surface and be heard. Opened the Basement door again. What a brilliant, daring move. Not to discount the Lesh factor, but maybe we can see the changes happening now, at least in part, as a natural extension of that choice, interrupted by the summer tour with its self-imposed rigidities? Once again, though, the *point* is Hattie Carroll ... with its flawless enunciation and ringing refrain, similar to how he sings the refrain of "My Back Pages" now; the *point* is Spanish Leather ... an ocean of sadness, yet such joy in hearing it sung and played like this, perhaps not quite equal to the Tramps version (which I missed in person but was able to hear on tape--thanks to an act of generosity which I won't soon forget), but so close as to be virtually indistinguishable; the *point* is A Satisfied Mind! ... I can't well describe how stunned I am by this ... not just that it was the first-ever live performance of the song, but that it was so gorgeously done, sounding thoroughly (but not too thoroughly) rehearsed, all the way through to the haunting reiteration, "How many times have you heard someone say ..." trailing off into silence--a gentle, deeply poignant country version closer to the original, I'd imagine, than to the one on Saved. Peter Stone Brown, I see, has turned in another disturbingly good review for this show, one to which I can't hope to add anything substantial. If I had to disagree with him on one small point, however, I would have to say that tonight's setlist struck me as every bit as adventurous as the previous night's in Baltimore. At least on paper. "Ring Them Bells" that night, yes, and "Big River" too. But it doesn't seem to me that tonight's "Thin Man" or even "Maggie's" are really concert standbys at the moment: not only would I have been unable to predict them, but I wouldn't have been able to predict such fiery, spot-on renditions of them either, both of which I preferred infinitely to yet another "Tambourine Man" or "Rolling Stone." In fact, outside of "Tangled ...," I wouldn't have been able to predict a *single song* in the entire main set. If you had mentioned that possibility two short weeks ago, I would have laughed in your face for sure. The band's pre-song huddles, occasionally long-drawn out, are truly a sight to behold, upping the ante for every new choice; you can literally feel the anticipation crackling in the air, passing like heat lightning in and above the crowd. Folsom Prison Blues ... what Johnny Cash song would I love to hear Dylan play live even more than "Big River"? What is this, some kind of sick Jeopardy game? Dylan must really have had too much of nothing, because not only is he eating fire, he's spitting it out here, spitting out the song's blank desperation: "Who then devised the torment? Love. Love is the unfamiliar Name Behind the hands that wove The intolerable shirt of flame Which human power cannot remove. We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire." (T. S. Eliot) Both Dylan and Cash understand this, I think. And now, with this song, I can hear Love speaking, naming itself behind the song's intolerable imagery, speaking itself in Dylan's homage to one of his great Teachers (whose health has been all too much in the news of late), as he delivers the song back in all its raging glory. I mean, the cable show was fine, was fun, but there's no doubt in my mind that the real Cash tribute is happening right here, right now. Man of Peace I'm beginning to understand why this is turning into the best Dylan concert I have ever been lucky enough to see. It isn't because he is playing the songs on my personal "dream setlist," or whatever. It's because he's playing the songs I *need* to hear without my even knowing it. I've been trying to think of a way to put this so that it makes more sense. As of yet, nothing. By the way, this rendition is by no means as lyrically perfect as some reviewers have suggested (I think the tapes will bear me out); it's actually a little rough around the edges, not that that matters in the least, since it is musically, and more important, spiritually dead-on. I'll Be Your Baby A breather, thank God. And a nice substitute for the nightly joke. Goofy in the extreme. Magnificently goofy. Sung from a satisfied mind. I've mentioned how the version of "Satisfied Mind" had been far removed from that on the Saved album; I should also confess, however, that this did not prevent me from hoping, secretly, to hear, at some point later on, that familiar guitar intro leading into the verse: I was blinded by the devil, Born already ruined .... No, I was not the one holding up the Cross. But hey, I'm saying to myself, if Seth Kulick can get "Ring Them Bells" out of Dylan, why can't I get "Saved"? Not like it wouldn't fit in with a setlist already featuring "Hallelujah," "Satisfied Mind," *and* "Man of Peace." Seriously, although the newsgroup ponderings on influence strike me as somewhat delusional, I couldn't blame anyone for at least being curious about it. Nevertheless, with Dylan playing so radically with his setlists, songs are bound to come up, the absence of which has been noted in past discussions. It's just inevitable. Right? That however does not explain the issue of Dylan's mind-reading. Again, what is being read are not surface thoughts (like "Satisfied Mind" = "Saved" ... Duh!) but more concealed, subterranean needs and desires. Whereas Seth had publicly bemoaned the lack of bold set choices like "Ring Them Bells," I had long been wondering, half-consciously, at the loss of Oh Mercy songs in general--songs which had proven so vital in the early years of the Neverending Tour, and which I had come to associate with the spontaneity and risk-taking characteristic of that era (anyone remember the keyboard-driven "Disease of Conceit" from Hammersmith 1990?). Also, quite simply, I love those songs, just as much as most of those on Time Out of Mind. For quite a while, it seemed as if the TOOM songs eclipsed them utterly, and then, even as fewer of *those* began to be played, the Oh Mercy material never reappeared--with even "Everything is Broken" and "Long Black Coat" becoming increasingly rare. Not Dark Yet Baltimore had seen both "Bells" *and* "Long Black Coat." I should have realized earlier, then, that this was NOT "Not ...", especially since it sounded a little off to my ears. I don't care what some Canadians might say about it, but "Shooting Star" is among the finest of what Lloyd Fonvielle might call Dylan's "post-apocalyptic" love songs: songs like "Sweetheart Like You" (rightly understood), "Born in Time," and "Not Dark Yet" itself, all of which fuse images of divine and human love and envision a landscape, both external and internal, consumed by loss, futility, and despair, yet which somehow manage to draw an elusive ray of hope inside their prison of days. This "Shooting Star" is easily one of the finest vocal performances I've ever heard Dylan offer up live. And it is an offering, a gift; the delivery so slow, so fragile as to almost break apart at the end of every verse--less of a song than a kind of meditation sustained against the odds, against a crippling sense of doubt. I can't help thinking of a quote from, I believe, Iris Murdoch, who wrote that--in a secular age particularly--good art can provide work for the spirit, and that attending to it can be like prayer. Encores What can I say? There are six of them. And after that setlist, I am entranced by each one, as though I hadn't heard them all many times before: this, undeniably, is where the predictable set choices belong. During "Love Sick," the lights briefly project the band's and Dylan's shadows high upon the rear wall. I'm reminded--somewhat bizarrely--of a recent r.m.d. post about Plato's Allegory of the Cave in relation to a song, "Visions" perhaps, and of how that post was summarily dismissed as "pretentious." How typical, really. Look at those shadows up there! Throughout the night, they have been levitating slowly upward out of the twilight of becoming, and they are carrying us with them now into a glimpse of pure Being, just for this one moment; after all, we can't take much. So how's that for pretentious? Eh? Can I do better? Back to earth. After "Not Fade Away," we get to watch as band and crew scramble to keep up with Dylan's wiles--frantic re-plugging, closing and opening of instrument cases, a just-lit cigarette passed from Larry to one of the crew. And a "Highway 61" that not only reprises the outstanding versions of 1998-9, but splits the song wide open till it erupts in gemlike flame. I walk out exhausted. I don't want any more. But at the same time, it has all gone by too quickly, like a dream. Which is probably why I can't stop writing about it; although the words do a poor job, finally, of bringing any of it back. There is no summing up, only random gleams across the mind. Then why do I feel that this is the greatest Dylan show that I have yet been able to see? Because of the sense, fleeting as it may be, that this concert has brought everything full circle. I started with Dylan more than ten years ago, just before Oh Mercy, at the outset of the Neverending Tour. Never before have I experienced a concert that tied together so beautifully the freedom, intensity and peril of those early years with the clarity, focus, and grace of the later N.E.T. Like I said, miraculous. Once we get back onto Broad Street it's a fast ride out; we put North Philadelphia behind us--but not, I hope, the memory of what we saw there, both outside the venue and in. Nor the lingering question of how to connect the two. Sometimes I think that art, at its best, has nothing at all to do with "world-view" or politics. On the other side, a presidential candidate can quote "Blowing in the Wind" as much as he likes, but surely, if he can't provide us with Answers, we will punish him in the end. What great art *can* do, however, as Harold Bloom has said, is help us learn how to talk to ourselves. We need that, a lot--and before we can even try to begin talking with others. That's what Dylan does for me, and that's what he did so wonderfully tonight. I think of the Van Morrison song and concert call-and-response: "Did ye get healed?" That's not something Dylan would ask. Nor did he have to. Yes, I did. It's enough to give one a little hope for the future. All the best, S. D. Walter --- "And I'm still carrying the gift you gave, It's a part of me now, it's been cherished and saved"
Subject: Seen a Shooting Star Last Night: Dylan in Philadelphia From: Tom Karel Date: 11 Nov 1999 00:56:02 -0800 Organization: None Just when you start to think that maybe you've see too many Dylan shows, a performance like last night's comes along and makes you want to quit your job and follow Bob on the road for the rest of the tour. I've been a Dylan fan since my college days in the 1960s, but I didn't see him perform until 1994. Since then I've seen some excellent shows in the past few years (especially with Patti Smith in December 1995 at the Electric Factory in Philadelphia; November 1998 at College Park, Maryland, with Joni Mitchell; and this summer with Paul Simon at Holmdel, NJ) but this, my 9th show, may have been the best one yet. Bob was in terrific form and couldn't stop playing! Here's a song-by-song rundown. First, the prelude - After a long, slow battle with heavy traffic on the Schuylkill Expressway and Broad Street, my daughter Stasia and I managed to get into the parking garage attached to the Apollo. We were running late and I was sure that the garage would already be filled, so that was the first good sign of good things to come. We got into the arena just as Phil Lesh and Friends were starting their set. Our seats were almost as high up and as far away as you could go - in Section 210, in the second-last row from the rafters - but we had a great view of the stage and could survey the entire audience, all 11,000! My initial impression was that this was largely a Deadhead crowd, but it was also the kind of wonderfully diverse crowd you see at all Dylan shows - young and old, freaks and straights. The Apollo is supposed to be "smoke free" but I've never seen so much smoking at an indoor concert. The Deadheads (and others) were smoking everything imaginable, too! The floor was packed with the general admission folks, swaying and dancing to Phil's music, and from time to time the colored lights played over the crowd and from above it looked like a rippling rainbow. I am not a big fan of the Grateful Dead so I don't know their music very well, but Stasia is and does, so she really enjoyed Phil's set. While their music sounded very good, I found the long and flowing jam that went on for nearly an hour to be a bit tiring. Finally, when they got to "Stagger Lee" I perked up and the rest of the set was both energetic and enjoyable. Along the way I was entertained by a young guy in front of me who spent most of the time on his feet doing an interpretive "dance" to the music - a lot of hand action and swaying which was fun to watch (though I was praying he would disappear when Bob came on!) Phil's set ended around 9:15 and I had plenty of time to get to the men's room and back before Bob came on. The main event - Bob and the band appeared on the partially lit stage around 9:45 then sort of milled around for a long minute until the usual PA announcement came on. The crowd errupted and they launched into HALLELUJAH, I'M READY TO GO. I was expected to hear "I Am the Man, Thomas," so this was the first surprise of the evening. A nice, bouncy song, but over too quickly. The crowd was still settling down. Because of the previous shows and the suddenly-unpredictable set lists, we were expecting something unusual in the number two spot. We weren't disappointed. I missed the opening line, but was delighted to hear HATTIE CARROLL again. This performance wasn't quite as mesmerizing as the Madison Square Garden rendering in January 98, but it was very good and Bob's voice was rich and clear. This song, of course, would have been ideal for the Baltimore show, but I'm glad he chose to wait a day. Third was a welcome treat - BOOTS OF SPANISH LEATHER. I hadn't heard this live before, and again, I couldn't make out the opening lines. He sang this softly and tenderly, with some interesting variations in the phrasing, and the crowd roared at the end. My enjoyment was ruined slightly by the persistent talking from the row behind us, but otherwise this was one of the highlights of the evening. I thought we would hear something more predictable next, but Bob surprised everyone in the arena with A SATISFIED MIND from the Saved album. I don't know this song so when it began with a loud chorus of "how many times..." I was really confused. Stasia thought she saw Bob laughing at the beginning as if he knew he had pulled a fast one on the crowd. Then we were all expecting "Tangled Up in Blue" in the number 5 slot, since this is where it's been played throughout the tour, but the man of surprises tricked us again. We heard a soft and gentle and wonderful MAMA YOU BEEN ON MY MIND instead, complete with a nice harmonica solo. Just lovely, as good as the version I heard at Lehigh in February. Then, at last, TANGLED UP IN BLUE and the crowd really came alive. The Deadheads got up to dance and the light crew switched into high gear. Bob restored the "topless place" verse and ended with a soaring harp. The crowd was pumped now and you got the feeling that anything could happen. It did. The first electric number was another huge surprise - Johnny Cash's FOLSOM PRISON BLUES. It sounded perfect - loud and raw and mean. The band had a lot of fun with this and the vocals were very strong. Another highlight. BALLAD OF A THIN MAN was next and the crowd roared from the very first unmistakable notes. This, too, was done with power and force and Bob sang it with feeling, close to the album version but with some nice phrasing and repeating portions of lines ("you've been with the professors and they've - and they've all liked your looks"). This was a big crowd favorite. The biggest surprise of the night, for me at least, came next. I knew the song the moment I heard the opening chords, but said to myself no, he can't be playing this! He was and did. I nearly jumped out of my chair and looked at Stasia in astonishment. "Look out your window, baby..." MAN OF PEACE, for the first time in several years, I think. And Bob sang every word perfectly and the band sounded like they've been playing this constantly. I gave him a standing ovation for this one. (this song is from the Infidels album, and while I would have preferred hearing "Jokerman", this was just fine) Either before of after the next song Bob actually spoke to the crowd - something about Bill Cosby and Temple. I didn't recognize the into music, or the first couple lines, but then settled back to enjoy one of my all-time Bob favorites, I'LL BE YOUR BABY TONIGHT. This one also had some great phrasing - "I'll be - I'll be your - I'll be your BABY tonight!" He was almost crooning through most of the song. I first heard him do this at Hershey, in the rain in August 94, and this time was much, much better. Then, a major highlight of the night for me, a song I've been waiting to hear Bob sing since I first heard it on the MTV Unplugged show. From the intro music I thought he was going to do "Not Dark Yet," but then suddenly he was singing "Seen a SHOOTING STAR tonight..." and the evening became perfect. What a thrill! He poured his heart and soul into this and the crowd loved it - they hung on every word, and when he repeated the "last temptation" verse there were shrieks of pure joy from different parts of the arena. It was a transcendent moment. If he had ended the show then, I would have gone home a very happy man. After that, the songs actually became somewhat predictable, but more surprises were on the way. Bob introduced the band, then did a rousing up-on-your-feet MAGGIE'S FARM instead of "Highway 61" or "Rolling Stone," which we had been expecting. Then - then, my friend - came the amazing encores. LOVE SICK was expected, and while I would have preferred hearing something else from Time Out of Mind here, this performance was excellent and Bob's voice was haunting. We listened very closely for the minor lyric change people had been writing about. Fans were even trying to dance to this! RAINY DAY WOMEN was a bit of a surprise, and I could actually understand most of the words this time. The crowd loved it. The acoustic encore began with all kinds of expectations. After Phil's appearance during the encores in Baltimore we sort of expected the same, and when the music began Stasia thought it was going to be "Friend of the Devil," which she's been dying to hear. Instead, it was DON'T THINK TWICE, done very well. The line "you just kind of wasted my precious time" received huge applause. Then, not surprisingly, they exploded into NOT FADE AWAY, the lights went crazy, the band went crazy, and the crowd went crazy. No sign of Phil Lesh, however. Stasia surmised that he was on the road to Connecticut already. Bob and the band began leaving the stage, the roadies were taking the instruments away, but then.... Throughout the encores, Bob made a point of acknowledging and waving to the fans seated up behind the stage, and maybe they made a real impact on him because soon we saw them returning to the front of the stage, instruments in hand, and we got one more encore! BLOWIN' IN THE WIND, a fine emotional end to a great show. But, incredibly, it wasn't the end! Another long pause, and they returned one last time and blew the roof off the Apollo with a long, roaring HIGHWAY 61. Stasia was going out of her mind. Six encores, he's not supposed to do this! When it was over, nobody left the arena in the wild hope that there would be even more. But that was it. Bob had done 18 songs and played for two hours. What a man!! The crowd was buzzing afterwards about the show, Deadheads and Dylanheads alike in agreement that they had witnessed a very special evening. We waited on the roof of the parking garage for a while, admiring the lights of the center city skyscrapers and enjoying the fresh, crisp midnight air. When we finally got out of the garage and out of the city, we flew home, fueled by the music and whatever it was we were inhaling all night!
1999: January - February - March - April - May - June - July - September - October - November -

Tour