Bob Dylan Concert

What a nightmare. Driving round and round the same parts of the M8 for what seemed like an eternity looking for the Cardonald exit late on a Wednesday night. Horrible. Not an experience I ever want to repeat.

We had just been at a Bob Dylan gig at the SECC and were hoping to pop in and see Catherine’s grandparents but neither of us were exactly sure how to get there and so, predictably, we had managed to get lost.

The gig itself had been fantastic. I’d seen Dylan in concert on four previous occasions, and each time he had chosen to play lesser-known tunes in favour of the overplayed sing-a-longs. This time was no different. Standout tracks were the thumping, bluesy version of It’s Alright Ma, I’m Only Bleeding, and a rocking, Stuck Inside A Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again. The audience (‘congregation’ might be a more suitable term considering the reverence those in attendance seem to have for the artist) predictably reserved the loudest cheer for the opening bars of, Like A Rolling Stone.

As always, Dylan seems determined to rework each tune in his repertoire to the point where they are almost unrecognisable. Whether this is to keep each song fresh for him as he endlessly tours, or whether he is just sick of hearing the audience sing along is anyone’s guess. The only time the crowds’ vocal chords could be called into action were during a mellow version of A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall. If I had known the misery that I was to face driving the M8 shortly after, I’m sure I would had joined in… ‘I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways’.

Andy