In late 2002, Bob released a video clip for an edited version of “Cross The Green Mountain,” his contribution to the Gods And Generals soundtrack. Bob’s wig and facial hair, not dissimilar to those worn at Newport, can this time be attributed to dedication to character, though his bandmates get extra credit in that regard since they grew their own.
In August of 2002, Dylan took his wiggery on stage with him. Not only did Bob decide to wear a wig on stage at an outdoor concert in the middle of summer, he did so at one of the most highly anticipated shows of his late-career period: his return to the Newport Folk Festival. Was the wig some sort of response to the treatment he received in 1965? Did he really need to add the fake beard and mustache? Some wig mysteries are not meant to be solved.
Back in January of 2003, Bob graced the streets of Park City, Utah with his presence for the Sundance premiere of his film Masked And Anonymous. What did he wear for the occasion? Knit hat, scarf, leather jacket: pretty standard fare for the ski city mid-winter.
Oh, he also wore this crazy blonde wig.
Great Moments in Bob Dylan Wig History
Yesterday afternoon, the music video for Bob Dylan’s “Must Be Santa” was loosed upon the world, and it is as baffling as the very existence of a Bob Dylan Christmas album itself. Perhaps the strangest and most commented upon aspect of this clip is Bob’s stringy mop/dirty blonde wig, worn beneath a variety of hats. While there is no denying the pure craziness of this wig, it is not unprecedented. So in its honor, I give you the following Great Moments in Bob Dylan Wig History.
13thday ofNovemberin the year2009
on this coast
I have become more frequently neglectful of getting my thoughts on my own shows up here in the immediate aftermath, which may just be the worst way that sentence could have been written. Regardless, it is Friday; I played on Monday. Here we are.
Stop #1 was WOMR for an appearance on Bob Weiser’s “The Old Song’s Home.” I don’t know if the apostrophe-s is possessive or a contraction of “is.” I also don’t know if Bob would have given me a straight answer had I asked. In between questions that had little to do with music and responses that had little to do with answers, I played three songs: “Lillian,” “Arizona Bound,” and “Labour Day Parade.” Bob closed out the segment by playing the Empty Like The Lion Den version of “Blank Diary.” You can watch a video of little old me playing “Arizona Bound” over on the Facebook.
Evening found me at The Mews for their open mic, hosted by Peter Donnelly. Open mics are a strange event because for as wildly diverse as they are by their very nature, given that they feature a new cast of musicians playing different sets of songs in different settings each time, they all still have a ring of familiarity. You can sometimes recognize a strain of similar sounding musicians playing at a certain level, or you can identify what style is becoming popular on the basis of how many people of a certain type or age have adopted it as their own for the moment. Not all open mics have feature performers, but they do all have hosts. Two things that can have a major effect on the success or at least enjoyability of an open mic is how willing the audience is to listen to a feature, if there is one, as well the strength of the host.
Many open mic crowds are, somewhat understandably, there to hear themselves: they want to sing and play and don’t care much for listening to others, feature or not. Open mic audiences that consist entirely or primarily of musicians are most apt to have this trait. The Mews open mic, which is set in the seaside restaurants main dining room overlooking the ocean, features a mix of musicians and diners, and both sets of people seemed eager to listen to me and to each other.
There is not one single way to be a good open mic host. You can say nothing all night but the name of the next performer but work hard at getting good sound and keeping things moving, especially if there is a long list. You can be an charming master of ceremonies that keeps people engaged even if the music is not. Peter was a mix of both, keeping people interested with a bit of humor here and there to fill the time as needed while also working tirelessly on the stage to keep the sound its best. It should also be noted that Peter also performed a great pair of songs: one he introduced as a composition of Charlie Chaplin and one I’d venture to guess was his own.
In the midst of all this, if you can even remember, I took the stage for a feature set. It started off with “Arizona Bound” which, for some reason, seemed to be going slower than I had planned even though I know I was playing a faster arrangement than I had that morning. “When The Pendulum Swings” still seemed syrupy slow, but I didn’t want to overcompensate and start sounding like a Chipmunks record. My brilliant solution? Play more slow songs. “At The Bottom” piled on next, followed by “Santa Cruz” and somehow I had managed to match the material to the speed at which my brain seemed to be moving. Deciding that I should pick it up before anyone feel asleep in their lobster dinner, I came up with “On This Road.” I hadn’t wanted to repeat either of the other two songs from the morning at the evening performance but when Peter gave me the two-song sign, my mind clicked to “Lillian,” which came out a bit slower than its usually too-fast self, before landing with the safety of “William The Conqueror.” I was glad to have made it through the literally slow start, though that necessitated sticking mostly to album material. Perhaps there will be more newer material in Byfield.
I would like to thank Peter Donnelly, The Mews, the Beaconlight Guest House, Bob Weiser, and WOMR, as well as to everyone who came out to The Mews and listened Monday night.
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