Bob Dylan’s Budokan is as important a reinvention of his sound as the electric Newport Folk Festival set

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Budokan may be the most important performance Bob Dylan ever made, bar his electric introduction. Here is where audiences were treated to the initial and radical altering of songs which never sounded the same again. Bob Dylan at Budokan is a point of no return for how Dylan views his greatest hits. Woodwind wonders and a backing vocalist collaboration would last well into the 1980s. That may have been a rough decade for Dylan on and off the stage but there is no denying the spoils it would offer both artist and audience in the 1990s and onwards. Greatest hits tours are overplayed, anyway. Who wants to hear the same song, delivered with the same unmoved tone, if they are not timeless enough to warrant it? But these songs were timeless. They still are. At Budokan is an exceptional way to understand how these changes came to be and why they were essential.  

While Dylan and his label may have boiled down these two performances into one compact overhaul of his sound, the details featured on unofficial compilations offer extra detail. These are glorious tapes. Up there with the same notoriety as Stuttgart 1991 and an equivalent quality to Supper Club. These changes in At Budokan were, just as his introduction of electric to folk music, received like blasphemy. A spit in the face of his fans. Those appraisals of Dylan at this time are more due to stuffy Street-Legal reception than anything else. Their street poet had turned his attention to reinvention and At Budokan is a scintillating piece.

Rolling Stone dubbed At Budokan as “sacrilege” to the originals, and they are right. The point of At Budokan is separating Dylan from a defined sound, as was the case for his electrified set at Newport Folk Festival. Upending audience expectations is always a bold move. Rightly or wrongly, it is perceived as a rejection of the past sound. So long as an artist has something to move to, then there is no harm. For Dylan, it was a conclusion to a sound he had toyed with for over a decade. Subtle changes to Dylan’s vocal range had appeared through his discography from its self-titled start. But these changes are subtle, from the joy-filled covers to stern originals and through into experimental productions, legendary collaborations and hardship can be heard clearly but need to be sought after to hear it. At Budokan is the second massive change to Dylan’s sound put to tape.  

The first can be found on Nashville Skyline, where the new vocal range is accepted because Dylan’s image at the time was favourable. Hardships and Blood on the Tracks’ initial reception did not help the At Budokan case. The key here is Nashville Skyline was an attempt at subverting the anti-hippie sound. Country was a stuffy old genre, or at least was perceived as such by listeners of the time hoping to hear challenges to the genre from The Byrds or Grateful Dead. Dylan is a great studio influence but his voice alternates and depends on those he collaborates with. For Cash, he manipulated his vocal style, as he does to a greater extent on At Budokan. It is not just a studio change which befalls Dylan. His live work never sounded the same as it did in the 1960s or the revered Rolling Thunder tour which concluded just a year before At Budokan. There lies the key to why Dylan changed his voice, and why it was so important. 

At Budokan is looked on as a discarded oddity rather than an explosive career-best for Dylan. It is certainly the latter, and likely his best official live release to date. To risk his sound with a merit-worthy overhaul, the volatility of classic songs which are put to the test under new instrumental choices, is bold. It challenges audiences in the same way his electric twist did. Look what happened after that. Jimmy Guterman labelled At Budokan as one of the worst albums ever released in rock history. As much an overstatement that is, it provides valuable insight into the perception of Dylan as an artist and figure of the stage. While fans of the Rough and Rowdy Ways momentum may applaud Dylan for featuring these hits (now rarities of a contemporary song-laden set), those who were there from the start expected these songs to remain unchanged. The problem is not with Dylan but with an audience who do not understand, as was the case for the controversial Newport Folk Festival work. 

It seems strange in hindsight to look at At Budokan as a contentious effort when all it does is define Dylan as a different stage presence. Backing vocalists, booming bits of percussion and woodwind instruments add extra layers to his best efforts and would soon be revered by those who think Dylan knocking his microphone with a miniature wrench is masterful. We live in a time where legends of the stage are praised for whatever they do. A cough into the microphone is considered an interesting pocket of noise to be discussed and dissected. We are to blame for this. And yet At Budokan is still seen as this dark horse, the ugly stain on a perfect discography, revered less than some subtle accident or oddity in a modern performance. 

Quite frankly, Dylan has never sounded better than he does during At Budokan. The complete set to follow, The Complete Budokan 1978 is shocking. A disruptive masterclass which turns these Dylan classics on their head and finds new signs of life. These reinventions are not just an example of how established songs can have new life and meaning in them but provide Dylan a reason to continue playing them. It is no secret that he tires of Mr Tambourine Man or other hits because playing them forever designates him as a museum piece, an act of mild interest with no contemporary edge. Keeping those songs fresh and alive with new arrangements, as is the case for All Along the Watchtower on the Rough and Rowdy Ways tour, is a way to keep these songs alive.  

At Budokan provides exactly this. A fresh and innovative look at songs he was tired of playing. It lasts as one of his best reinventions, a passionate display where the songs of his past are looked at in a new light. Those moments of extra instrumental layer give Dylan respite at a time when his material was flooded with activism, divorce and heartbreak. Bold tones were frequent and the “distinctly audible” sound of each instrument, as chief engineer Tom Suzuki put it, is the point. Producer Don DeVito must have found this repetitive struggle when working with Dylan on Desire. The man who fixed Changing of the Guard had complete faith in At Budokan and, as such, let the instrumental process thrive. Those instrumental spotlights are something Dylan has stuck with since At Budokan. More and more, his touring musicians are taking the lead. Charlie Sexton sticks out in many a Dylan fan’s mind as being the incredible on-stage pairing, a partnership which benefitted audience and artist alike.  

At Budokan is an experimental powerhouse from Dylan who lays down what many would describe as unconventional arrangements. It received the same outrage as his electrified Newport Folk Festival gig and yet has not received the positive contemporary look-in. It is more than deserving of such a view. At Budokan is one of the few moments Dylan can be heard toying with a new sound on the fly, a clean break from the past discography, as his electric folk performance provided, can be heard in this Japan-based gig. Dylan solved the problem of artistic malaise time and again by introducing new elements to his familiar sound. It would never be the same again, but this reinvention paved the way to some of his worst works. At Budokan is not at fault for that. When Dylan moves away from a popular sound he is as good as done with it. This is the tone taken by At Budokan and it was the sense around the electrified Dylan controversy too. He should be applauded as much for both.