BY BENJAMIN BRADLOW

In print | November 30, 2006

One would not expect the Wachovia Spectrum in Philadelphia, where Bob Dylan and the five members of his band played on Nov. 18, to be the ideal setting in which to conjure the American musical subconscious. The crowd, a robust mix of solitary fat guys with gray ponytails, 40-something parents with their kids, late 20- to early 30-somethings dressed in their yuppie best, college students (I ran into at least 10 Swatties independent of my own stereotypically flannel-clad group) and an old grandmother wearing what can only be described as a “babushka,” packed the cavernous arena to capacity with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

After a loud, arena-ready opening performance by The Raconteurs - Jack White’s controlled screams and screeching guitar save this band from sure mediocrity - Dylan and his band walked onstage to the strains of Aaron Copland’s “Hoedown,” a sign of things to come. “Hoedown” draws its theme from the old-time fiddle tune “Bonaparte’s Retreat,” and Dylan continued the history lesson, opening the show with the live debut of his rewrite of Memphis Minnie’s “The Levee’s Gonna Break,” off of “Modern Times.”

Alternating between his now-trademark growl and croon, Dylan played six songs from this year’s “Modern Times,” and two from 2001’s “Love & Theft,” along with eight ’60s classics. Sticking by his electric piano (which was on the organ setting the entire night) located near center stage and almost directly facing the right side of the stage, Dylan directed his crack band with tight focus. He ended a particularly funked-up version of “for Charley Patton)” with the band locked in on a staccato theme based around his piano part.

Whereas in other shows, he has sometimes seemed to lose focus midway through a set, at the Spectrum Dylan played with distinct determination, focusing on his vocal phrasing without losing a fundamental sense of playfulness. During the circus whirl of “And I’ll Go Mine),” Dylan spat out the first half of each line before taking a breath and releasing the second half of the line just before the rhythm passed him by.

The music was of a nearly consistent quality, as Denny Freeman was appropriately varied in his approach to his lead guitar parts, and the rhythm section of Tony Garnier on bass and George Receli on drums added consistently appealing flourishes. On “Nettie Moore,” one of Dylan’s most musically interesting songs in years, Receli propelled the song with its unique kick drum emphasis, while Garnier’s upright bass and Donnie Herron’s violin completed a fitting soundscape for Dylan’s careful vocals.

While the crowd was definitely there for the old favorites, cheering loudly after most of the verses of classics like “Desolation Row” and “Tangled Up In Blue,” it also appeared to have a distinct awareness of the songs off of “Modern Times,” Dylan’s first number-one album since “Desire” in 1975. During the soft crooner “Spirit On The Water,” the crowd resoundingly allayed Dylan’s insecurities (“You say I’m over the hill, you say I’m past my prime”), as fans shook their fingers and shouted “no” in response.

As for Dylan’s role as a conjurer, he has perfected the part of the traveling, grizzled bluesman he once said he aspired to be. His newest songs are filled with allusions to the past, but even more significantly, he has made this tradition his own. The two protagonists of the traditional murder ballad “Frankie and Albert” are alive and well in “Nettie Moore” (or at least one of them is: “Albert’s in the graveyard, Frankie’s raising hell”).

Some may view Dylan as a shadow of his former self, but it would be more accurate to view him as a wandering spirit of the music and ideas of America’s past. His “Never-ending Tour” is a singular combination of history, myth and still-relevant music. The show at the Spectrum was no exception.

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