It looks like I’ll be the only one of my people left in town tonight. Everyone I know is going to Bob Dylan except me.
I saw him last year at the Point, and that was enough. He was good but he didn’t engage with the audience the way Cohen does, and today I just don’t feel like looking at him. Anyway, he’ll probably hide in the dark as usual and play a 45-minute set before sliding off into the shadows without a word.
I just don’t feel like going to Bob Dylan, though I’d probably have enjoyed Alabama 3 and Seasick Steve with his three-string guitar made from old fish boxes and pieces of baling wire. Imagine what he’d be like if he could afford a real guitar. David Gray I could miss without too much regret.
I wouldn’t mind hearing local band Last Days of Death Country. Among their influences, they cite A Perfect Circle, Tom Waits, Sigur Ros and Biffy Clyro, so I suppose I’ll have to forgive them Radiohead. These guys are on the way up. Better catch them in their last few local gigs before they’re gone.
Anyway, I’m not going to Thomond Park.
However, I’m sending a mole. Dylan’s people have issued a strict embargo on people bringing serious cameras anywhere near the great man, so I’ve supplied a dedicated snapper with a little Canon G11. Let’s see how our covert photographer gets on. If he comes up with any decent pics, you’ll be the first to see them.