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By: Kevin Lamb

dylanatthefox

You don’t need a front row seat to witness history, nor greatness for that matter. Last night I was able to be a part of something I often thought not possible, a Bob Dylan live performance. While I knew he still made special appearances at this festival or that, I knew I was reaching the end of a great line, and dared not risk passing on one of the greatest gifts to music, rhythm, folk and soul that this fine Earth has known. The Fox theater played a beautiful host for a packed house, filled with both fans that were in their twenties in the prime of Dylan’s career, and the new generation of music loving teenagers and twenty-something’s alike. I approached the theater and large lit facade in admiration and wonder; how many other young, passionate soul seekers had witnessed this very same sight before I, could any performance be like they were in the sixties? Or has the world changed? Has music changed? While I wonder these things I assemble the perfect set list in my head, Don’t Think Twice it’s Alright, Shelter from the Storm, Man in Me, Hurricane, Like a Rolling Stone, Blowing in the Wind, It’s Alright Ma, Mr. Tambourine Man. yet I know I’ll be fortunate to here but a few of these fine classics. It’s hard to imagine, all the shows, all the set lists, all the cities, hearts, minds, booze and Mary Jane in the 50 year career of a journey around the world. I am put in place as a creative mind when in the presence of such greatness, historic significance, and yet just another man with a dream, heart, and vision. Often I think our generation, those born in the times of Bush, Clinton, Bush and Obama, don’t have the same voice of those before us, because our freedoms aren’t met with such an iron fist. Military service has become an exit strategy when all else fails, we are not haunted by the possibility of a draft, our united passion seems to have been replaced by the wide world of social networking, a sin of which I am not absolved of.

The music is still in us however; it is as much a part of everyday life as it ever was, running rich in our blood, I Pods, I Phones, and Pandora applications. For years I yearned for the first hand experience of a rasp known only in the voice of one Bob Dylan; for years I listened to album after album connecting myself with the essence of what I feel from his words, life, love, exploration, and peace. The poet in Dylan brings out the music in me, calling from Watchtower to Rolling Stone, and last night the culmination of a relationship reached new plateaus. With each song he bellowed through the larynx of a fading yet brilliant life, I told myself it could be the last I heard from a man I have always admired, and known in the only way I know how, my understanding of the beauty in his work. While over the years his music undoubtedly transformed identities more than any of the greats; his rasp grew thicker, his clarity dwindled, yet the man in me still felt the man in Dylan like never before. A man for the people, performing in a town built on motors and music, brought together in hardship, brought to their feet in appreciation, celebration, and blessing.

Set List

1. Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat
2. The Man in Me
3. Beyond Here Lies Nothin’
4. It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue Bob on guitar
5. Summer Days
6. Desolation Row
7. Cold Irons Bound Bob center stage
8. Sugar Baby Bob center stage
9. Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum
10. Po’ Boy
11. Highway 61 Revisited
12. Workingman’s Blues
13. Thunder On The Mountain
14. Ballad Of A Thin Man Bob center stage
15. Encore:
15. Like A Rolling Stone
16. Jolene
17. All Along The Watchtower

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Folk and Open Road

Bob Dylan sings a raspy tune in my ear

Business men walk by my side

I sit, I listen, and yes, I try

To be different, to make a difference, to be the antithesis of it all

His folklore and reflection make me think of my own

A skill of the great artists, a skill I know not yet, if I own

I write, I type, I talk- and people listen

I spread good word, good faith, hope is my mission

A revolutionary of love, wisdom, and gold souls

I am becoming the mission I wish to lead

For the things I believe in, I need only a mirror to see

If we live not, the lives we preach

Then how, or why, would we ever teach?

My medium is not broad, but of personal reach

In order to see, I first listen, and be blessed to receive

His words, his accents, his rasp, and his soul

An endless journey of hands held by our side

Self-discovery, self-becoming, love to find

Love to be, love to lose, love to seek, and love to choose

These roads we walk, often talk, of men who traveled years ago

They speak of pain, of course none the same, all unique- with beauty to tame

Open roads, un-daunting loads, horizon and possibility fill the sky

Trails of daylight, hopes it’ll stay alright, hopes- of anything at all

Aching stars paint the night sky

Watching, waiting, never certain why

They sing of misery, love they lost, and of course- love never had

The price of eternity they speak, the price of fading, yet never weak

Death by supernova, it’s sure been nice to know ya, whoever, wherever you are

You kiss, I wish, for a taste I know only by how it is missed

You walk, you tramp, you sleep, you dream

How surreal, the fading life of stars must seem

dylanfox

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