I felt bad about it, but not for long, because just a few days after I skipped the chance to get tickets for the Stones, the Americanarama Festival Of Music was announced, and not only did it feature two of my absolute favorite bands, Wilco and My Morning Jacket, its headliner was another of my bucket list musicians: Bob Dylan. And for the price of a single Stones ticket, I managed to buy FOUR excellent seats at the Americanarama date at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre in Irvine, about 60 miles south of here.
The show was last Saturday, and it was an utterly magical experience, but not because of Dylan. In fact, if the show had ended after the remarkable triple-whammy of Ryan Bingham's opening set, My Morning Jacket's 70-minute set, and Wilco's 75-minutes set, I would've gone home satisfied and felt that I'd gotten my money's worth. And it would've been one of the most memorable concert experiences of my life.
Let's just start with the very surprising surprise guest that came to belt out a couple of classic numbers with Wilco: Nancy Sinatra.
I don't think anybody in the audience saw THAT coming.
Or, how about Jackson Browne (who was a surprise guest during My Morning Jacket's set) emerging to sing the wonderful "California Stars" with Wilco?
And finally, something that I've been waiting years to see: Wilco and My Morning Jacket teaming up for a song, Neil Young's "Cinnamon Girl."
For me, after all this, Bob Dylan's headlining set was just a bonus. As anyone who's listened to his last few albums or saw his incoherent appearance on the Grammys a couple of years ago knows, his voice sounds pretty awful these days, and for 90 minutes, he plowed through nearly unrecognizable versions of a handful of classics, along with several lesser-known songs. A lot of these songs were rendered unrecognizable because of Dylan's weird cadence and intonation of the lyrics, which sound nothing like the album versions. Weirder still, the man famous for his guitar-playing never once picked up a guitar during the entire night, limiting his instrument-playing to the harmonica or keyboard. Perhaps the weirdest thing, though, was that he was shockingly intelligible. I actually understand most of the words he was singing, even if he was singing them strangely.
Still, there was something magical about being there for probably my last chance to see Bob Dylan perform. He's 72, and his body and voice are frail and could give out completely at any moment, and here he is going on a tour across the continent, playing to 10,000 people a night. And then, near the end of his set, came the pay-off, when he was joined by the singers from all the opening bands and traded off singing verses of The Band's classic "The Weight."
As I said, magical.
I should probably also mention that I could've written a blog entry like this earlier in the year, because my trip to Coachella was chock full of bucket list moments, involving three band reunions I never thought I'd see.
The Stone Roses:
Blur:
The Postal Service:
And that's not even counting the reunions of The Three O'Clock and Violent Femmes, the reappearance of Sixto Rodriguez, or seeing Johnny Marr perform three Smiths songs:
So even though I missed The Rolling Stones this year, and I may never get another chance to see them, I'm doing well on my ongoing adventure of seeing bands whom I'd never thought I'd get to see, and it's only August. Who knows what the rest of the year will bring?
#ConcertReport
