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bringing me all back home
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Bob Dylan concert at Newcastle Arena - the fifth time I've seen him but there's been a long gap since the last time. My how you've changed Bobby (hey but who hasn't?)- from strutting folk cock of the walk to strangely elegant, rather fragile old undertaker (one-eyed? surely not)dude, with a beautiful dark suit, red shirt and exquisite cowboy hat. Maybe he is the man in black since Johnny passed. But he wasn't doing country this time - more a kind of R and B (old school) with just a dash of ZZTop (actually, there were several members of that band in the audience - or their lookie likies anyhow). It was well danceable - or at least i thought so - there was nothing in there moving - and I was certainly not alone. The good news was that I didn't know anybody except the person I went with so could boogie until the old legs packed up without fear of countable mockery. Although I've had a really passionate love affair with Bobby all my life, the concert didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. He's in another zone now - and so am I. Respect due to a true poet who's done enough. Why not have a bit of a rest now, me old mate? I think some of the guys in the audience got you mixed up with Wayne Rooney - lots of "Go on Bobby! Go on my son!" and requests for "New Pony". I ask you. Still, the old fella was oblivious. So was I after several pints in the Forth.
8:00 AM  

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