Bob Dylan Sets the Congregation on Fire in Tulsa, Oklahoma*

Mr. Dylan strolled onstage dressed for the congregation in a sharp black suit topped off precisely, with nothing less than an elegant black fedora. He appeared to be in complete control and brought to mind a wild west preacher man blowing through town just long enough to bring about an old-fashioned revival. If you weren't already aware of his slight physical build, you might have never guessed it so on this night. The announcer introduced Dylan with a long line of titles identifying him as the poet laureate of our time, etc. I cringed as I recalled Bob's angry rejection of labels over the years. But the man himself didn't appear to be bothered in the least, immediately launching into what can best be described as an intense blues-rock jam session. At the conclusion of the first song (Gonna Change My Way of Thinking) I shouted out, "Get DOWN, Bob!!". I feel certain he must have heard my advice ;-), because that is exactly what he proceeded to do for the remainder of the evening.

Dylan gave an animated piece of showmanship, in stark contrast to the previous shows I had witnessed. He directly engaged the crowd throughout, striking genteel poses and even mixing in some Elvis-style gyration, both from behind the keyboard and out on center stage. The man was on fire, and even his giant shadow, projected on the plain black backdrop of the stage, seemed to take on a personality of its own at times. As he and his Band tore through the set, including a painfully relevant delivery of Working Man's Blues, he seemed intent on delivering a Message that I won't attempt to re-create here. Suffice it to say that he somehow managed to cover the universal subjects of injustice, heartbreak, hope, desire and redemption that permeate his body of his work. All of this and all in one night.

The guitarist Charlie Sexton spent much of his time sharing the spotlight on center stage with Dylan. He seemed to be holding something back, and frequently dropped to his knees while playing. His illusion of modesty was shattered in the final piece, "All Along the Watchtower", when Sexton unleashed his pent up intensity. Here was a man who had clearly mastered the tools of his trade.

The crowd in general seemed disengaged with the unfamiliar selections that composed the largest part of the set. I was surprised and disappointed, since even the most casual fan must be aware that the worst philosophy in attending a Dylan performance is to shoulder in any expectations of song selection or their method of delivery. Bob pointedly answered the lack of enthusiasm with a rumbling rendition of Ballad of a Thin Man, as the show neared its end.

Dylan's impassioned performance felt like a man renewed by fire, whether the numbed-out crowd realized it or not. After the smoke cleared, the lucky seven** in our party gathered in the parking lot just across the street from the Old Lady on Brady. We still smoldered from the two hours of intense heat radiated out from BD and his Band. Everyone agreed that we had just been witness to a rare gem of a performance that far surpassed any of our, um . . . expectations.

I wish all of you could have been there to see it!

*The author openly admits to a complete lack of objectivity on this particular subject.

** The Lucky Seven: Stan, Gail, Paul, Melissa, Jaxon, Sarge & F