Bob Dylan at The Supper Club and the show that saved a genius
I feel constantly at odds with the idea of pressuring some of my musical icons into what their setlist should be. Ultimately, I am a simple man who wants no more than to be bathed in his favourite songs in a live context. But equally, I don’t want to watch them performed half-arsed and bordering on karaoke. That outlook on music is perhaps the only thing Bob Dylan and I have in common.
Try as I may to liken myself to Dylan, the fact is our shared opinions are all I can garner. In absolutely no other aspect of life do he and I share anything similar, for I am nothing more than a grain of sand in his beachy world of genius. But my admiration for his work as a fan has informed my view of music, and as such, through his teachings, I’ve developed the idea that setlists are more for the artists than they are for fans.
But as I push 30 and the rumblings of cynicism begin to surface, I feel my steering wheel beginning a U-turn. As much as we all love live music, lets not act like watching live music isn’t a luxury. No matter the era, the cost of a gig ticket has always had to be considered for the majority of music fans who live in the shadows of society and so the setlist should undoubtedly be designed for their enjoyment.
And so while I may not have quite reached the point of throwing objects at Bob Dylan on stage for not playing ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’, I can somewhat understand the sentiment behind the jeers. His steadfast pursuit of authenticity is undoubtedly what cemented his legacy, but as time dripped on, it was the same trait that began to chip away at the patience of fans who were desperate to see Dylan playing at full tilt, in the soundscape he’s most comfortable in and with the sense of narrative vigour that shaped his classics.
The place that was seen best was undoubtedly New York in the 1960s. When the stardom forged in that city meant he had to traverse every corner of the world, playing songs to new fans, his intent became lost. By the 1990s, there were a large portion of fans who had feared he was no longer the artist he once was and lost hope in ever seeing Dylan at his best again.
So naturally, Dylan had to return to the narrow streets of New York in order to find his way. In 1993, he played two secret shows with a full acoustic band and rediscovered the essence of his genius. Repackaging a string of his classic hits with a more energetic sense of focus, Dylan played like the artist of old, delivering poignant hits with passion and commitment.
While he had spent the previous two decades unwaveringly indulging his own creative ideas, this new decade saw a compromise. The hits were played, but with reinvention and they were sprinkled in between songs that had been largely unplayed until then.
Perhaps the standout moment of the entire set was his rendition of ‘Ring Them Bells’, a song played a mere handful of times before then, but one that catapulted into renowned classic status after The Supper Club gig, such was the beauty of Dylan’s performance. It was him at his definitive best, touching upon the moments of genius that made him so widely popular while refusing to compromise his authenticity and commitment to playing songs that felt right to him in that moment. It was the creative olive branch between himself and fans that informed what would be an incoming classic in his ‘97 record Time Out Of Mind, and a healthy reminder that somewhere beneath the gruff demeanour, was an artist we all needed.
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