I’ve spent the past 20 years or so pouting because I missed the ’60s. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that God’s New Year’s resolution for 2012 was to make it up to me: first with Melanie Safka at Woodyfest this summer, and tonight with Bob Dylan at the BOk Center.
Dylan sounded awful, but that’s to be expected. Because, y’know, Dylan. I didn’t care. I didn’t go to hear great vocals. I went to see a legend. As far as I’m concerned, Bob Dylan is the ’60s personified. Dude kicked off the folk revival, slept with Joan Baez, smoked pot with the Beatles, and wrote most of the protest songs that ended the Vietnam War.
If you don’t respect that, I’m not sure we can be friends.