A bootleg CD is par for the course, but a DVD? A feature film with songs from a performance at Vicar Street, Dublin? That is a prime cut. A fan with time on their hands to bring a stage show to life. Those flashing lights, the sudden brightness to bring Bob Dylan and the band into the view of an audience, are fantastic. A standing audience, no less. Imagine that on the Rough and Rowdy Ways tour. A different atmosphere to this performance from September 13, 2000, of course. What a show it is. Many of the best bootlegs are audio only, and though Vicar Street, Dublin, is not the greatest rip or most exciting show, it does have the benefit of featuring video. Great video, at that. A nice focus on Dylan and a purple suit-clad Tony Garnier playing double bass. A treat for those wanting more from a golden period of Dylan live shows.
This was the time between Time Out of Mind and Love and Theft. A period where Dylan was figuring out new instrumental meanings for his biggest hits. Yet there is still time for hidden gems. Duncan and Brady and Tomorrow is a Long Time are highlights in a set which also features To Ramona and Desolation Row. It is a strange experience to see Dylan perform up close, even after seeing him in concert. On tape is a slightly different occasion to in-person. Your focus can be on the music, rewind it a bit, and you can focus on the man. He does not move as much as first thought and strums at the guitar during To Ramona as gently as can be. But he uses that acoustic guitar as a border between himself and the crowd. He, like Jeff Lynne or Paul McCartney, would seem naked without an instrument in their hands.
Vicar Street, Dublin is a crucial watch for those interested in how Dylan brings these vocal inflexions, those breaks and tempo changes, to life. He does so, seemingly, by taking on the mood of the room. Not how the audience is reacting, but how the gig feels, how the occasion of performing is affecting him. If performance is a truly emotional art, then should we not celebrate those who are so keen to lay their cards down with how they feel? Letting their emotional attachment, or lack thereof, affect the song is all part of the performance. It comes through clearest of all on Desolation Row, a wonderful epic which, even by Dylan’s standards, is cut from a rare cloth. The last two tracks included Tangled Up in Blue and Ring Them Bells, give a solid indication of how Dylan is on stage in a period of critical acclaim.
He uses all the hits of the stage. A big double bass behind him with Garnier wearing presumably borrowed from Prince, a singer-songwriter spotlight, and an always-moving disposition. Dylan changes up the formula of his greatest hits and deepest cuts not out of spite for his audience, but out of love and interest for the songs at hand. It is what occurs on tours in recent memory, especially when he hammers away on a grand piano, improvising along with those veteran performers. It is all about trying to find a fresh, emotional hook to give an experience which can never be heard again. If it were not for bootleggers, hard workers like those behind Vicar Street, Dublin, we certainly would not hear them again. But here we are, another exceptional recording on our hands.
