“There must be some way out of here,” said the joker to the thief
“There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth”

I first saw Bob Dylan live in 1984, forty years ago, and it made an unforgettable impression on that crazy kid at 22 years old. Forty years later, tonight in Paris, I’m flabbergasted by the fact that this artist still is able to surprise me, even impress me, by bringing a new guise to the table. No, it’s not always like that, though more often with this than any other artist, still, tonight was really one of those nights to remember. I will never forget it.

It started with that quite unusual set-up for an artist, Dylan hidden behind the piano, with his back to the audience and his face in Jim Keltner’s, the drummer’s, direction. Dylan is rocking “All Along The Watchtower” with simplistic solo playing on electric guitar, the band is getting into the groove, long before the singing starts, Dylan starts playing the classic song, in a really funky way, but far from the Hendrix version Dylan came to love and has been inspired by in earlier version. This is something else. It rocks! From the third row I can see Dylan’s left hand in his lap, playing solo piano with his red right hand. Great opener, and the words ring true to these times of tons of confusion and to little relief, too many businessmen along the line who don’t know what life is worth. That’s how it is. Rumors of wars and wars that have been. The wind begins to howl. A wildcat growls. It’s a hard life wherever you go. The moon is almost hidden, the stars are beginning to hide, the fortune telling lady has taken all her things inside.

The guitar playing on “All Along The Watchtower” works well, not so much in “It Ain’t Me, Babe”, the song that thematically is fittingly placed in the spot earlier filled with “Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I’ll Go Mine)”. Some themes never change. The performing of “It Ain’t Me, Babe”, when it comes to the singing, it is sad and beautiful. He is singing it to us, and he has an urge for us to listen.

But then it happens – the surprise. This was the twelvth “Rough And Rowdy Ways Tour” show I’ve seen so far – nine of them in 2022, ending with the great shows at London Palladium, then two fabulous shows in Barcelona last summer, and now this in Paris. Three years, three banners united over the field, and three guises of Dylan, not only because the three different drummers and other changes in the band – not only because of new arrangements of the songs year by year. No, it is Dylan’s own project that changes, what he want us to know, or to listen to, or, as of this year, what we can see and experience when listening to the music and the singing – the sight of the performing artist himself, the image of him, the storyteller at work. Then again, the storyteller has always been there of course, but not exactly like this, and, as I say, this night was special for me – not seeing any of the other shows this year, so far. This was something else. The whole night.

When Dylan started to sing “I Contain Multitudes” he grabbed the handheld microphone for the first time this night, stepping out into space, away from the piano, at the left side, in a way I haven’t seen since 2019, now continuosly measuring the cable while singing, before tip-toing back behind the piano. Tonight he did the same for song after song, maybe one verse, maybe two, maybe the first or maybe in the middle, maybe holding the piano. You could see him come dancing in this well-known chaplinesque way, knee-bending and swinging as he told the story of the songs with deep conviction, sometimes sad, sometimes with this characterically inward smile, then finding his way back to the piano, maybe playing some base chords with his left hand, singing in the microphone in his right hand, then changing hands and maybe play some solo chords at the piano, maybe in a Thelonius Monky-business way, picking up his harmonica, playing especially fabulous solos on both “When I Paint My Masterpiece”, “Desolation Row”, “To Be Alone With You” and “Every Grain of Sand”, but also on other songs. But more than anything this was the storyteller in action, when back at the piano, he leaned over it, with both elbows, like a majestic King Kong of music, like a man that really wants to tell you the whole story, now listen to me, guys, I wanna tell you something, come gather round, friends, and I’ll tell you a tale – the impeccable timing, phrasing and coloring of the words. Sometimes they disappear into the night, but it doesn’t matter, the guise this year is of the storytelling Dylan, he always was of course, but this time he is really acting the role of the storyteller, in clear sight, that’s what it is about this time. We can see him act it out, song for song, all of them playing a part in that overall story of the night – like really leaning over the table to make you listen closely, underlining the words with a fingerpoint or moving his hands, sometimes waving with the fingers he doesn’t need to hold the microphone, sometimes with the other hand, he is communicating with movements all the time, when he is not concentrated with both hands on the piano playing. After most of the songs he turns his back to the audience, smiling happily at Jim Keltner or Tony G. When Bob Britt starts “When I Paint My Masterpiece” too early, Jim Keltner, Tony and Lancio falling in, but Dylan, deadpan and powerful starts to play the real story, “False Prophet”, and you can almost see the guys blushing, smiling nervous, but Bob’s in a good mood, laughingly introducing Britt as the guitar player at the end of the song. He actually introduces them all tonight, mentioning them after different songs. The harmonica solo on “Masterpiece” was a masterpiece itself, holding it steady with both hands, elbows on piano, whispering sounds of wisdom with his harp. A fabulous moment in itself this night. Then it’s the great tango version of “My Own Version of You”, first out on the stage, then back leaning on the piano, some playing, some handheld microphone,it all shifts very quick, like a magician, with what hand does he really hold the microphone when it rises next time? But all the time he is telling the story, that being the central point through the night, to make us listen to the story of the songs, accompanied by his very being, his movements and his hands as we try to follow them. You had to be there, and a recording of this will not be the same. Of all the shows I’ve seen, I haven’t seen a show quite like this before, the eagerness in the performance of telling the story physically, song after song, like it really was a whole, like every song meant something special. “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” made the audience roar, and it was a version with some really great and jazzy phrasings included, with a short, but nice, harp solo.

Oh, no, I’m not saying it was perfection, of course not, he long ago gave up every attempt of that, this happened here and now, improvised before our eyes, he was sharing the story and the stories with us, left the piano one last time when starting the beautiful “Every Grain of Sand”, in this so sad, but true version, acting the bitter dance of loneliness and the broken mirror of innocence when singing it, when back at the piano making this powerful church-organ-like harp solo like only he can do at his best, while leaning over, telling the story, also through the sounds of the harp and the thunder of the piano. No, I’m not saying this was the best show I’ve seen, but it was unique and it was different, for me, because I could SEE the working man telling his story, I could SEE how important it was, the whole night, to lean in and really tell us the story, not just by singing the song. Even “Watching The River Flow” flowed tonight, it was shining like it seldom did, for me, as the opener of the night. He was really grooving here, and the audience with him.

As you may understand, I loved the show, and I’m deeply looking forward to the next show in beautiful Seine Musicale tonight. After “Every Grain of Sand”, people was crowding in front of the stage, yearning to give something back for this wonderful performance. I can understand that. It was a joyful Dylan we saw this night, and a it was a joyful audience I could see leaving out into the beautiful Paris night.

Johnny Borgan