When legends are let-downs

As I checked my e-mail a few days ago, I was surprised to see a new message from the IU Auditorium sitting at the top of the inbox: “Bob Dylan added to fall lineup!”

The man himself is coming back to Bloomington, but my reaction was more mixed than I’d like to admit. With a sigh, I closed my e-mail and quickly forgot about the news.

Well, it didn’t take me long – probably less than five minutes – to start thinking about the show again. If anyone can muster excitement for old men with guitars, I certainly can, so where was my usual enthusiasm?

I popped on “Blonde on Blonde,” and my memory took me back to October 2007. As wide-eyed freshmen, my roommate and I snatched up tickets to see Dylan perform at Assembly Hall. We were blown away that he was even coming to Bloomington, and we wouldn’t miss it for the world.

We showed up that night awaiting the show of a lifetime – only we didn’t quite find it. Or at least I didn’t think so.

When Dylan slowly walked onto the stage, my heart was already racing. I was finally in the presence of a legend and was awaiting some kind of life-changing experience that never really came to be.

From my nosebleed seats, he was a mere black-clad speck on stage. His presence loomed in my mind, but it was lost in the vast arena. He warbled through mostly unrecognizable, reworked songs, and the band reverberated throughout the whole place, knocking out any sense I might have had of what Dylan was saying.

I left trying to convince myself that what I had just seen was probably the most epic concert experience of my young life. How could it not be? It should have been a perfect little concert package handed down from heaven.

The more I pondered this, though, the more I knew why I was so let down: I expected too much. The venue was huge, my seats were terrible, and, let’s face it, Dylan’s not the same 1960s-era Dylan that everyone latches onto. He’s gone through so many transformations since then that it’s unbelievable we even recognize the man anymore.

But thanks to his resolve, his love of music and of touring, a musician who otherwise would have remained a caricature in my head came to life that night, even if it wasn’t like everything I had built it up to be. Knowing him, he probably intended for it to be like that anyway.

So the question remains: Will I see him again this November? A smaller venue with better sound is a plus, but I don’t know if it matters. No matter what I may have thought before, he still is and always will be Bob Dylan. Why should I ever pass up a chance to see a living legend?

Looks like I’ll be buying those tickets after all.