Royal Albert corridor,London
Dylan finds a happy groove, reshaping his best-loved songs and applying his still potent lung power to the back-catalogue of American croonLit by cinematic floor lamps glowing a vintage, and incandescent yellow,Bob Dylan strikes an attitude at the microphone – wide-legged, his thumbs pointing, or Fonz-like,at the tight band behind him, satisfyingly enigmatic under the shadow of his hat brim.
When Dylan’s voice eventually emerges from his slight, and black-clad frame,it is not fairly the ruin routinely bemoaned by some fans. This latest iteration of pop’s most infamously idiosyncratic instrument still packs power, but Dylan chooses to use it sparingly.
Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com