=================== =================== =================== === Bob Dylan Taormina 28_07_2001.md5 =================== =================== =================== # MD5 checksums generated by MD5summer (http://www.md5summer.org) # Generated 2/9/2014 8:34:29 AM 914a1e761174bfd12197327a93dd3eb2 *D1/28072001D1Trk1.flac 8daa05d8874d403c57d36283f785ad97 *D1/28072001D1Trk10.flac a67f23fad8b1655dbe1ce4679b3c3b54 *D1/28072001D1Trk2.flac 5571d7acb0de7f5a4340619abcafab66 *D1/28072001D1Trk3.flac d6db92df1db7e4847fd9e452af8257e0 *D1/28072001D1Trk4.flac 53b3aa7756cb78bde525973aa864790f *D1/28072001D1Trk5.flac eea2937a9c43f5f398a5cc9016b6b862 *D1/28072001D1Trk6.flac 85d6111ae7ad1a969a804a8ec98c7a5c *D1/28072001D1Trk7.flac 1416763cbf1d3fdf9fb143a170154204 *D1/28072001D1Trk8.flac 1d5d857d1915493e242fd67c341a2731 *D1/28072001D1Trk9.flac 0a7b41306c185cad7307489af7115a7c *D2/28072001D2Trk1.flac 020099ff955c1ee89930ae8ff7487735 *D2/28072001D2Trk10.flac 4210a7e5e7508f206609bc4d57ef71b7 *D2/28072001D2Trk2.flac 428031aeff968a2abe7d669ae9f8868e *D2/28072001D2Trk3.flac b37fcd4dd24ada5fa9d7853dec48429b *D2/28072001D2Trk4.flac 6531506b901046be54ab4ed78538c404 *D2/28072001D2Trk5.flac 9a7ca84e8dc6d11ed328c39de4205951 *D2/28072001D2Trk6.flac 9e9cc31f8396d3dac5c43ea89cc56515 *D2/28072001D2Trk7.flac 739cc0c1ec45319bed4aa6d4ec146c13 *D2/28072001D2Trk8.flac 9a5b2bdb6314d1238314a3a2b5d74768 *D2/28072001D2Trk9.flac ecb5ae9112d22ab9a534c92df3bd68ee *Error Log D1.LOG a99385582f7d270900722d1f2c9d45a6 *Error log D2.LOG 4e13cc0d6b04a62df47b7a63a079b0ad *Review.txt ef8186a157101fa3c85fd08b19aa59c6 *Setlist.txt 0f109513edaf205435bc1639286351cf *teatr1.jpg aa70907f97dc30fdff1acf42752932b6 *teatr2.jpg d65270090ed46792842d40d513fdeb6a *teatro_greco-romano.jpg =================== =================== =================== === Review.txt =================== =================== =================== Review by David Flynn It was the article in La Stampa that got me thinking ( you can read it in the Expecting Rain site Friday July 6 ). About how it was no coincidence that Dylan was finishing the European leg of his tour in his sixtieth year in Italy and that it was no accident that the last concert would be in Sicily. Sicily where two thousand years ago the cult of Isis was dominant. And the venue? A two thousand year old Greek theatre in Taormina perched on the side of a mountain overlooking the sea. The sea of Isis and of Ulysses and of Achilles. And the backdrop? Etna, which two weeks ago - on Dylan's arrival in Italy - began it's most violent eruption in living memory. The only time I've ever travelled to watch Dylan was in 1969 when I rolled up my army surplus sleeping bag and hitched down to the Isle of Wight from Liverpool to watch the man in the white suit. All the other times he's come to me. To a cinema a bus ride away when I was sixteen (Odeon, Liverpool. 1966) when I heard the wild wail of modernity and watched as the audience screamed and scuffled with each other. There was a lot of resistance to invention that evening. At sixteen I was just bemused. It took a few months for the significance to sink in - when Blonde on Blonde was released later in the year. Then it all made sense. Everything was different now. May 66, May 68? I was living in London when he turned up next. In an exhibition centre (Earl's Court, 1978) so it was a tube ride to see the reinvention of I Want You and Dylan with a brass section. Earl's Court again for the Shot of Love tour. All tight and spiritual tension. Then I moved far away. To the edge of the old world. Just about as far south as you can get in Europe. And I gave up hope of Dylan ever visiting me here. Nobody comes here. But here he is. In his sixtieth year. He's found me again. He won't give me no peace. And he's playing in a Greek theatre. It's one step up from the cinema in Liverpool, the field on the Isle of Wight, the exhibition centre in London. This is roots. This is old. I'm half thinking he'll come on stage with a Greek chorus. He could get away with it, too. I'm sure it's passed through his mind. And Etna's bubbling away in the background. Coughing up its black smoke and oozing out its rivers of lava. Hard Rain. Idiot Wind. Rolling Thunder. How to bow out of Europe in your sixtieth year? The Flowing Lava Tour?. It was the La Stampa article that started me thinking about roots. Closing the circle. That's what Dylan is about today. Explaining where he came from and why he is what he is. Like Piccasso's child-like paintings at the end of his life. Love and Theft. Good as I've been to the blues and folk and country and gospel...you've been better to me. Two thousand years ago in the Greek theatres the show would start in the late afternoon and as the plot unfolded the light would fade away slowly and the final tragic scenes would coincide with the sunset and then the night. Now it's the opposite but the dramatic effect is the same. The light fades. Through the back of the stage - no need for a backdrop here - the view of the bay and Etna slowly blacking out and then the plumes of fire on the volcano becoming more and more vivid as the night hits in. Then the stage lights up and he's there. He made it. No words. Three acoustic guitars. Double Bass. Drums. Somebody touched me. And nothing had changed. There was the voice. The perfect rhythm section. The wall of acoustic guitars. The times they are a changing. They're selling postcards of the hanging. And what have I been reading all year. Sub-standard performances? Not what he used to be? But this is the business. In it's own way as good as 1966. Different, sure, but not inferior. Relatively superior because at twenty five you have the energy and at sixty you have to find the energy. Then it's the strapping on of the Fenders. Where are you tonight sweet Marie? The sound is wonderful. Loud and pure and metallic. Simple twist of fate. He's changing all the words but it's the same story. Now I understand for the first time. Different arrangements of the melodies we all know about but the lyrics have their new arrangements, too. It's still the same structure, it's still the same song but you can tell that old story in so many different ways. The pain remains the same. Love doesn't work out and we suffer. Four major chords and a couple of minor. It's all so simple but it makes you want to cry. Close your eyes, close the door, bring that bottle over here. At least for one night we can relax and feel good. And you look up and in the sky over the stage over the bay over the exploding volcano is a real big fat moon shining like a spoon. Then the acoustics are out again and it's poor Hattie Carroll but that's also a love song. Lost love. Betrayal. Then the moment arrives. It was the La Stampa article that talked about Dylan in Italy and how it all goes back to that first time with Suze Rotolo when he was abandoned and betrayed and out of his pain and despair came his first songs of personal suffering and now he's singing Boots of spanish leather but he's not just singing he's explaining. The vocal is as good as at any time in the past and that's not relative that's objective. And there's a line that stands out like the guitars have stopped playing and he's just reciting some words. She's on the ship and she's leaving him and she says "I don't know when I'll be back again. Depends on how I feel." And in that moment you feel what he must have felt. But with love it's like that. It was only forty years ago, after all. Then you're trying to take all that in and you realise he's playing Don't think twice and you start to believe he really is back there in the early sixties. And then you know. And then the electric guitars are out again but he hasn't quite shaken off those feelings because everything is broken and then baby's got new clothes and then finally he seems to shrug it off with the only song I didn't recognise which maybe was necessary at that moment. Then it's time to dance and get stoned trying to write a book and the crowd is up on its feet and swaying and then it's the end. But then they're back but he's still love sick - you're not gonna get a happy ending - but then he relents and the lighters are out and how does it feel to be on your own and people are singing along but then it's downbeat again. One too many mornings and a thousand miles behind. You can have your fun but listen to this, this is what life's really like. Then he relents again with Watchtower and the people are swaying again and then ok you've paid your money here's my badge put down to the ground and here's God talking to Abraham and here's the riddle of the blowing wind but none of these songs are sung like they were in London on the Shot of Love tour when the hits were spat out like poison. He believes in the songs again. It's love. Not theft. If there's love there can't be theft. It's been fifteen years since I saw you last. I thought I'd got you off my back. But you've done it again, you bastard. You've blown me away again. See you in Africa when you're seventy. =================== =================== =================== === Setlist.txt =================== =================== =================== 1 Somebody Touched Me (acoustic) 2The Times They Are A-Changin' (acoustic) (Bob on harp) 3Desolation Row (acoustic) 4 Absolutely Sweet Marie (Larry on pedal steel) 5 Simple Twist Of Fate (Bob on harp and Larry on pedal steel) 6 I'll Be Your Baby Tonight (Larry on pedal steel) 7 The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll (acoustic) 8 Boots Of Spanish Leather (acoustic) 9 Don't Think Twice, It's All Right (acoustic) 10 Everything Is Broken 11 Just Like A Woman (Larry on pedal steel) 12 Drifter's Escape (Bob on harp) 13 Rainy Day Women #12 & 35 (encore) 14 Love Sick 15 Like A Rolling Stone 16 One Too Many Mornings (acoustic) (Bob on harp) 17 All Along The Watchtower (Larry on acoustic guitar) 18 Knockin' On Heaven's Door (acoustic) (Charlie on electric guitar) 19 Highway 61 Revisited 20 Blowin' In The Wind (acoustic) =================== =================== ===================