How'd it take me so long to get here?

As most of you know by now, yesterday I made the trek to Louisville, Kentucky to see The Bob Dylan Show- comprised of performances by The Wiyos, Willie Nelson, John Mellencamp (to be confused with John Cougar and John Cougar Mellencamp), and of course, Bob Dylan. For the last two years, since I first fell in love with Dylan (yes, I know, I'm a late-bloomer, in more ways than one) I have been scanning internet sites to hopefully have the opportunity to see Dylan in concert. I had heard of his ballpark tours and I couldn't imagine a better way to see him. You can't imagine the pure joy I felt when I signed onto myspace and discovered that "Dylan" had posted information on his upcoming tour in ballparks. (See- Myspace IS still relevant). I was even more thrilled upon discovering he'd be touring with Willie and Mellencamp. Two others I had never had the chance to see- though I should be clear- I was much less excited about Mellencamp than Willie.

Given the fact that I keep obnoxiously busy every hour of every day, I didn't have alot of time to engage in the sublime experience of concert preparation. It actually wasn't until we were on the road to Louisville that while stopping at a truck stop for some supplies that I realized the magnitude of the impending experience.

Now, I must admit I'm saddened by one thing about the trip. The Louisville Bats stadium looks awesome and I'm wishing I had the time and finances to stay a few extra days and catch a game...but alas, work calls.

Although I feel the urge to give you a play-by-play of the whole evening, I believe I should stick to highlights....

While standing in line waiting to enter the stadium, I overheard a father exclaim to his son..."Just think, years from now you'll be able to tell your children that you saw a musical legend." I couldn't help but wonder how much of going to a concert like this involves the desire to say "I saw Dylan." While I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I also wanted to "see" Dylan in this way- I also wanted to "be" in the moment. Jeez, now that sounds all pretentious and touchy-feely.

Once entering the stadium, I realized that perhaps a t-shirt and jeans were a poor choice of attire (apparently I make this mistake often). It was amazingly hot outside. Though, there were plenty of refreshing (albeit expensive) beverages to solve that problem.

I also noticed the adoration for Mellencamp among the crowd. There were tons of people decked out in Mellencamp t-shirts and gear. The merchandising at this type of show was also insane. I eavesdropped on a woman showing her friends all the Willie merchandise she bought- which included 2 tank tops, 2 t-shirts, a wall-hanging, and a bandanna. I'm wondering how much money she dropped at the merch tent. And then I wondered how I can get involved in selling Willie gear.

Now, onwards, the show was fantastic. The Wiyos were great, though I was somewhat distracted by the heat. Willie was terrific, even enough to get me out of a seat into the crowd. See below for a clip from my book project about just how much Willie has been part of my musical motif.

When Mellencamp came out, I decided to take a seat off to the side in the small lawn seating area. I was shortly moved out of this space by a drunken middle-aged man who insisted on kicking his bright white tennis shoes in the air next to my head with every beat of the song. People in Kentucky love Mellencamp. And to be honest, I was into it. I didn't think I would be, but it was a helluva performance. Sadly, Mellencamp did not do me the pleasure of playing "Jack and Diane"- which is all sorts of tied up in musical memories for me. What I found compelling was the celebration of the "small-town," which all has mostly ceased to exist. Still, the crowd shouted- all celebrating those small town American values. Given this fact, Mellencamp was the only one of the performers to engage in any type of political speech.

As the evening closed in, I found myself moving further and further into the crowd. I knew that when Dylan took stage I wanted to be as close as possible to the stage. It takes something special for me to find myself wedging in between 6 ft. tall tweens.

And then it happened, Dylan and his band took the stage. I was about six people back from the front. And when I saw Dylan in person- and I know this might sound, well, I don't really care how it sounds- a couple of tears welled up in my eyes. It wasn't as if I had been a fan of Dylan for 20 years, but there was something about seeing him in person that moved me. And I felt a little like the dad in line, I was SEEING Dylan, a musical legend.

Dylan, while at times I struggled to understand his lyrics, played for about an hour and a half. One thing I loved (and loathed only a little) was how Dylan plays his older hits completely different from the original. I loved this because the crowd was unable to sing along, which meant I could actually hear Dylan. I loathed this because about half way through a song I would realize it was one that I really loved. Honestly, I was spellbound throughout the entire show. And the crowd was too. While moving up to the front wasn't an easy task, luckily some tall un's let me move closer (yes, it sucks to be short at any type of concert...I will continue to campaign for some type of "If you are under this height, you are allowed to stand closer" type of clause for shows).

So, it happened. I saw Dylan. I'm no longer a Dylan concert neophyte. It was everything I expected. I'm pretty sure that Tim and I talked about it for most of the way back to Nashville, well except that last hour when I passed out from sheer exhaustion.

And what is next on my docket of summer rock shows...well, hopefully a show in Puerto Rico of local punk and politco bands...then onwards to Gogol Bordello (oh, Eugene) and M. Ward.



Excerpt from work in progress...

...I’m not sure what came first, my love of travel or my love of Willie Nelson’s On the Road, Again. They may have happened at the same time. My mother, where most of my early musical memories originate, use to love playing the stereo in her Camaro loud with the windows rolled down. I’m not sure if we use to spend hours driving around listening to music, but the desire to get on the open road is undoubtedly burned into my DNA. “Going places that I’ve never been, seeing things that I may never see again, and I can’t wait to get back on the road again…” Later, my mother and I would take to the open road, but it was 1983 and Madonna was in tow. Besides at this age, I was still somewhat confused as what really happened with a stereo. I can remember riding around with my mother and her boyfriend at the time. I was in the back seat. I remember a song was playing on the stereo and my mother’s boyfriend shouted out some lyrics. Immediately afterwards, the stereo would repeat the words he just shouted. I can remember this going on for most of the song. I peeked over the seat wondering how they could fit the entire band in that small space. It must be a band of tiny people, I thought. I am too embarrassed now to think of how many years I wondered why the stereo band wasn’t able to hear my requests when I shouted them out...