It was not a vintage year for Bob Dylan, 1989. Oh Mercy saved face for the veteran performer in the studio, though his work on stage felt a tad lacklustre. He was reeling from the post-pop days of Empire Burlesque and found himself still drifting. Even performances with Tom Petty and Grateful Dead in the years before Toledo 1989 could not steady him. Reinvesting in the folk attitude and electrified hits of old in a new context would steady Dylan, though those times are a long way off from when this performance came to be. “Recording devices are not permitted during this performance,” the man introducing this fully recorded show can be heard saying. But are we to trust the archivists of Dylan or the bootleggers in the crowd? The latter often offers a fuller, louder sound, a rougher edge which some may prefer to the crisp recording of soundboards.
Toledo 1989 is a fairly consistent performance from Dylan during a time when he was falling in and out of favour with listeners. Oh Mercy certainly helped, though his vocal work here, probably the most unintelligible of his career, is a struggle to get into. Opening track Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I’ll Go Mine) is unrecognisable. The cliché of not understanding what Dylan sings about comes to life here. The sole whoop from the crowd is a tad embarrassing, though the rest of the songs to follow are an improvement. Some true rarities like I’m in the Mood for Love and You’re a Big Girl Now feature. They’re solid. It takes a long while for Dylan’s voice to warm to this performance, but at least the steady hands of G. E. Smith and Tony Garnier are consistent as ever. Dylan warms up as the crowd does, and by the time All Along the Watchtower is started, the performance has steadied itself.
From there, it’s a solid blur of hits and covers, and an acoustic break for the likes of One Too Many Mornings and Mr. Tambourine Man. This acoustic break begins with Gates of Eden and offers a truly surprising set of stripped-back songs. Among them are Mama, You Been On My Mind and the debut of I’m in the Mood for Love. Five essentials of his discography which highlight a sudden quality of his vocal work. It was just warming up which was needed for Toledo 1989. Once Dylan finds his place in the set, it becomes a truly rewarding listen. Some of his best and most nuanced acoustic playing can be heard here. The show soon returns to rock and roll classics, a style which would waver in the years to follow. I Shall Be Released and Like a Rolling Stone are the highlights here.
But for those wanting a bit more from the depths of his discography, Silvio is featured. Once Dylan warms to the set, as the crowd begins to come around, this show becomes a bright spark. It’s still off the mark when compared to shows which would follow the MTV Unplugged performance or were backed by Grateful Dead, but it’s a chance to hear Dylan at a time when critical reception was returning to positive notes. Oh Mercy is a turning point for Dylan, however brief it may have been. Toledo 1989 certainly feels like a show pieced together where the band can work out which songs to drop, to feature those contemporary releases which were not far off. An interesting slice of history this one, though Toledo 1989 can hardly be called essential listening.
Hi, Ewan, and thanks for your review of the 1989 Toledo, Ohio show.
I was in the audience for this one, my second Dylan show on the path to 20 more. The feeling in the venue (one he would play at least twice more and had visited in 1978, I believe) was one of being underwhelmed. At the time, Bob coming to the Glass City was an event, something surprising. Most often, acts of his level play any of the Michigan venues in the Detroit area just north of us, and skip Toledo, which has the Curse Of The In-Between (Cleveland east, Chicago west, Cincinnati south). So, I recall a real excitement about this show. Recall too, these were pre-Internet days when you didn’t know setlists and band members and other details ahead of time. Bob’s ’78 tour was a very big band as you know, but when just four shadowy figures appeared that August night in ‘89, and then crashed their way through a song unfamiliar to the casual fan (and as you said, difficult to decipher immediately), it hit the way it does when a train you are riding suddenly stops and you find yourself at a destination that is not as advertised: “This is it? Where’s the beach?”
I only discovered the Toledo ’89 recording recently, and it’s made me remember that show more fondly. But I can still feel the momentum sort of fail soon after the start. Though, sure, a good chunk of that comes back later, at least to the listener. On the night, though, for those of us sitting in uncomfortable chairs on the gymnasium floor, it really did not.
It’s a matter of perspective, I suppose. This kind of Dylan show was sort of a new thing, as the NET was just getting rolling. My previous show was in Akron’s Rubber Bowl; Dylan, Petty, and The Dead on one bill, with Bob’s crowd of backing singers joining in – a world apart in format and energy from what I would hear and see three years later. Plus, I know from conversations at a post-show party that most of the crowd were just local rock fans who saw whatever was in town that month. So, not Dylan fans, per se. They were expecting something more accessible, an ‘entertainment’. There was a feeling that rock and roll has been left in the hallway. Experiments like “I’m In The Mood For Love,” and an encore that started with “Barbara Allen” contributed to that.
But what you might not guess about the circumstance was how well the opening act went down. First up that night was Steve Earle, who, while largely still unknown, had recently released Copperhead Road to the welcome arms of radio. Earle arrived with a full rock and roll armament, a big, loud, outlaw-sound band. His mission seemed to be to start building a national rock audience fan base to add to those folks who took his first and preceding albums to heart as what we would come to call “alt-country.” He went over like fireworks, especially in a blue-collar town where both meat-and-potatoes rock and roll and country music are always in favor. Earle did exactly what rock opening acts are expected to: He fueled the engine and revved it a few times – maybe more than a few. The early arrivers were on their feet, and I think he got an encore. But after the motor was hot, Dylan took the wheel for a comfortable cruise along the lake. It came off as a mismatch, and I think an impatient audience paid for it, most of whom seemed uneasy with Bob’s fresh arrangements of songs they barely knew, presented by a glowering and taciturn stoic icon. I distinctly recall people exclaiming, “Finally!” when he played “Like A Rolling Stone.”
Toledo would become a frequent stopover for Dylan in later years, though. At least twice more at Savage Hall (known as Centennial in 1989), plus fine some appearances at the Toledo Zoo amphitheater, and recently the intimate Stranahan, a 2,400-seat venue. I’ve made most of those shows and never went away with the feeling that “Tonight just went flat.” The audience is different now, the performer too, and I think they’re a better match. Maybe it’s the wrinkles and rust that they both share.
Thanks again for your comments on a show that I never expected to warm up to in my memory, but I believe I have now.