One of the pleasant things about this Bob Dylan show was his policy on mobile phones. The chap who was sitting in front of me at last Saturday’s Nick Cave concert spent so much time on taking photos, rubbish videos that will never be watched and texting his mate, that I was tempted to offer him a rectal storage solution. Dylan also seems to have strong views about this sort of thing and phones at his shows must be put in some sort of special bag which is electronically locked. It’s a bit harsh, but he has a point. If only someone could come up with a solution to posh gits who explain stuff to their girlfriend the whole way through the concert.

The Royal Albert Hall is arguably the most high class music venue in London. It is also the most incompetent I’ve ever been in. What looked like several hundred of us who hadn’t received tickets had to queue for over an hour to be admitted. I missed the first four songs and the people behind me missed a lot more.

Dylan was in the last chance saloon with me. His performance in Hyde Park a few years ago was baffling and I didn’t really understand what he was doing. However, his 2020 Rough and Rowdy Ways album was impressive and he’s been touring it for the last three years. Listening to it properly led me to conclude that the fault in Hyde Park was mine rather than his. So, I thought I’d give him another roll of the dice. Plus, he’s about 107 now and unlikely to be touring Europe again. After about an hour on a website earlier this year I managed to snag a ticket which should probably really have gone to some heartbroken obsessive who can name every musician on every version of all his songs. For me, this is more like the musical equivalent of visiting the Sistine Chapel as a tourist rather than as an expert on Renaissance art.

My knowledge of his songs is rather incomplete, and he does specialise in making the famous ones unrecognisable. His refusal to see each song as something fundamentally unchangeable is part of his charm, though I’m not convinced that some of the reworkings do justice to the original, particularly when you are a bit unsure what he’s playing. Happily, someone updates the setlists here letting you know which album the song comes from, the lyrics and how many times it’s been played. This should be of some comfort to the heartbroken obsessives.

Zhukov and Jimmy Reed

Missing from tonight’s set was the beautifully meditative seventeen minute long Murder Most Foul, his reflection on John Kennedy’s killing and lament for what he sees as the idealism of the man who nearly started World War Three and tried to strangle the Cuban revolution. Nobody’s hero is perfect:

“I said the soul of a nation been torn away
And it’s beginning to go into a slow decay.”

As last week’s election demonstrated, things can always get worse and Dylan had nothing to say about contemporary politics. That said, while his voice was very strong, if a bit uneven occasionally, the few comments he did make to the audience were unintelligible. His playing was terrific too as he occasionally switched from the piano to the harmonica.

You may not agree with his conclusion, but you have to admire his ongoing lyrical boldness. One of the show’s highlights was Mother of Muses from Rough and Rowdy Ways, probably the only song not sung by the Red Army Choir to name check Marshall Zhukov.

“Sing of Zhukov and Patton and the battles they fought
Who cleared the path for Presley to sing
Who carved out the path for Martin Luther King”.

As with the song about Kennedy, you get the feeling of a man who is looking back at the grand sweep of his life aware of his own role in shaping the culture and ideology and perhaps concluding that things hadn’t quite gone the way he’d hoped.

In a just world the descendants of Jimmy Reed should be getting royalties for his track about the Blues singer who has been the introduction to the genre for many. It’s the catchiest song on the album, sounding for all the world as if Reed had written it and was the most upbeat section of a performance which was both looking back and refusing to be nostalgic. The live version is a perky highlight and precedes the show closer Another Grain of Sand from Shot of Love, which was first performed on November 21 1981 and has been played 407 times in concert.

These are concerts for the devotees rather than the casual listener. I’m glad I saw him and good luck to anyone who plans to see him again, but most likely he’ll go his way and I’ll go mine.