Like the album itself, the world it evokes here is sepia-tinted, timeless and otherworldly, all dappled light, strutting bluesy riffs, lap steel guitars and, of course, Dylan’s deep voice, a often imitated, never equaled, which sounds as elemental as it has always been.
Hell, to complete the bygone feel of these concerts, even professional photographers and all mobile phones are banned and audience members are ordered to lock them away in magnetic bags for the duration of the show.
The result is to transform, for a couple of hours at least, the otherwise nondescript Motorpoint Arena in the Welsh capital into an intimate, brooding blues club from another era.
It is not a feat.
Highlights included the majestic key Westall 10 minutes, and a beautiful interpretation of The Band-era When I paint my masterpiece.
It’s amazing to hear that the most lauded artist of his generation still resonates with new meaning from a song he wrote over 50 years ago about his effort to create a true masterpiece.
#Bob #Dylan #Review #Man
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