Bob Dylan Live (Part One)

Sometime in 1999 was the occasion I first saw Bob Dylan and what a thoroughly crap day it was.

First of all, the gig was at Wembley Arena, which at that time, was a truly awful venue, in a truly awful part of London. The Arena was then closed, with the even worse Wembley Pavilion temporarily standing in its place (How about a raised stage, chaps? Why would we need one of those? Er, so people can see the performers!) Wembley Arena has since been refurbished and reopened. Theres even a spanking new stadium, which cost several arms and a fair few legs. The pitch might be atrocious, but at least the ground has lots of toilets. As for Wembley the area these days, I can't comment on that, as I havent been near it for years.

So back in the day when Wembley Arena was lazily basking in the shadow of the stadiums towers, we were standing in a queue of about five, getting soaked and chilled to the bone, in the vain hope that we might get to see Dylan up closer than anyone else.

I arrived about three oclock in the afternoon my mate had been there with his brother and girlfriend, since midday. With the exception of a guy from South America who modelled himself on Dylan c.1975 (complete with copy shades, stubbly beardand massive curly hair), we were the only folks stupid enough, or jobless enough, to brave the west London cold just to be first in line.

Of course, we were thoroughly unprepared. Nobody had any food or drink. And there were no vans outside the venue at that time in the afternoon. We did discuss sending out a fellow on a supply run, but once you'd got inside the Wembley complex, you'd need a compass or an angry policeman to find your way out. We had neither of those. At least when we collectively forgot everything, we forgot everything. Except the tickets. We did have those. Well someone did.

About five oclock a burger van opened for business. One of us went to get some grub, but he hadn't turned on the hobs yet, so it was a no on the food score. Hang on, isn't it gas instant heat!? Oh no, the baps need defrosting. Thats okay, well do without baps. Ah no, it wouldn't be a burger in a bun, then would it? Besides, the burgers weren't ready and quite frankly, there wasnt a cat in hells chance of us getting a bite to eat. How about tea? Sure thing. Put a drop of sugar in it, and it is pretty much a square meal.

I don't even like tea, but I was taken over by the need for something warm. Just a shame I didn't have any gloves (yes I had forgotten those as well) and could barely take my hands out of my pockets to grip the plastic cup.

By the time we had finished our tea, the crowds were really starting to fill up. Well I have to say that, because we somehow inexplicably failed to go back to the van to grab a bite to eat. Not quite sure why or how this was. Certainly it didnt take two hours to drink the cup of tea and the queues then became so big. But maybe it took two hours for the bread to defrost and given the temperature outside, it wouldnt surprise me if it did.

Anyway, back to the show. We were going to be at the front to see Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan. Yippee!!

But Bob had other ideas. Apparently, he was bored of seeing the same faces near the stage on the tour, so to prevent his obsessed, ever-travelling fans from collecting his sweat in their palms, he got his people to dish out wristbands to random punters, so they got to stand at the front, whereas loyal fans like ourselves, were pushed back into the second tier.

This riled me and my friends for several reasons not least because we had never seen him before and thus presumably, he had never seen us before. But mostly we were annoyed because some greasy twat with a striped shirt tucked into his chinos, managed to blag two wristbands from the stewards, even though he had initially been bypassed for selection. When we tried our luck, we were told, quite categorically, to fuck off. Actually, it might have just been a no, sorry but it amounted to the same thing.

We got as close to the front as we could. Then we realised we were ridiculously hungry. Why didn't we go back to the burger van!?So two-by-two, we nipped out to get some fodder. But having split up from my friend, after taking a detour via the toilets, I found myself facing dozens of angry fortysomethings, intent on preventing me from getting near the front again. "But I'm with my friends", I protested. "Where are they?" they insisted. "They're over there." But the back of my pals heads was not enough. "We're not letting you through unless you can prove they are your friends."

How ridiculous. And this was a Dylan concert for goodness' sake. If it was Neil Sedaka or something, I could understand people being uptight, but it was Dylan. Shouldn't everyone be free and easy, beer in one hand, spliff in the other?

"I queued up since three this afternoon. My mate since twelve!" "Not my problem", "We dont believe you" etc. etc. Eventually, one of my friends DID turn round. And I DID get to the front of the not quite at the front bit.

Was it worth it? Not really. The concert was shit, the acoustics were shit and the audience had riled me so much, it would have been impossible to enjoy the show anyway. The one consolation was that Bob played this track, which was at the time, my favourite song of his.

I left bitter and disappointed, vowing never to see Bob Dylan live again.