In the Presence of the Master - Second City Subversive Part 3

Bob Dylan England 1966

The first time I was ever allowed to stay out all night on my own was in the Winter of 1966 when I travelled from the suburbs on the bus to Birmingham City centre.

The purpose of the mission was to obtain a ticket to see Bob Dylan live at the Odeon on New Street. 

This for me at the time was the equivalent of a holy pilgrimage which also had elements of a coming of age about it too.

The Odeon was most of the time a cinema back then (now exclusively so), but it was also a venue for live music acts including many of the big names of the 1960s, 70s and 80s. 

I don't know exactly what the seating capacity was then, but in 1937 when the Odeon first opened it was 2,439, with 1,517 in the stalls and 922 in the circle and I don't think it had changed much, if at all by 1966.

I was determined to get one of them and so I set out on what was already a great adventure with a thermos flask of coffee (which I dropped shattering the inner glass) and the cost of a ticket in the stalls in my pocket.

When I got there sometime around midnight I was dismayed to find a long line of people already camped out from the entrance along New Street and round the corner into another narrow street, the name of it I forget and which no longer exists. I made my way to the back of the queue and found a place on the steps of a bank now long gone, where I wrapped myself in a blanket to face the long wait ahead.

The ticket office wasn't due to open until 10am, it was going to be a long night. 

I started talking to the people camped out next to me, one of whom was a young man called Glenn who lived in Shard End, an area I was familiar with because my elder brother's girlfriend lived there and my family had visited her family on a number of occasions, including the previous Christmas.

I struck up a friendship with Glenn who had all six of Dylan's albums that had been released in the UK up to that point on a Grundig reel to reel tape recorder.
I only had three of them, albums were very expensive for me at the time.... so between that night and the actual gig in May I used to cycle from my house in Erdington to Shard End (a 10 mile round trip) at least once a week to listen to Glenn's tapes in the kitchen of his parents home and to solemnly revere our idol.

Anyway, after a long cold night the box office finally opened and the police allowed just 2 people at a time to go and buy tickets. I remember the anxiety that all the best tickets would have gone by the time I got there, or worse still they would sell out (I had no idea how many people were ahead of me or how many tickets were on sale)...it was a fraught couple of hours. 

Sometime around midday after a 12 hour wait, I finally got my ticket and went home tired, but happy and relieved that the adventure had paid off and I had my prize...a ticket somewhere around the middle of the stalls, only about 25-30 feet from the stage. I was over the moon.

It seemed an eternity until the 12 May the day of the concert. Glenn and the others were there as well and we sat in the same row dumbstruck to be in the presence of our revered idol. Dylan was hardly ever on television or radio in UK, his remoteness and distance added much to his charisma, his incredible songwriting and performing talent did the rest of course.

Too us it was like being in the presence of no less than God himself ....and I think Bob Dylan probably shared that perception until his (and our) joy was shattered in the second half by an outbreak of noisy dissent in the auditorium.

The first half had been amazing, a solo accoustic set with Dylan alone with his guitar and harmonica on stage performing songs we loved and others we didn't know....I was absolutely spellbound by his captivating presence. 

Because Dylan and his music minders and copyright owners have now removed all video clips of the 1966 UK tour from YouTube, the only video I could find of this tour is at the link below. This is from the first half of one of Dylan's UK shows I'm not sure which one, but exactly what I saw that night at the Birmingham Odeon....the magic here is I think palpable, but maybe that's just me and my memories?

http://videosift.com/video/Bob-Dylan-Just-Like-a-Woman-Live-1966

Interestingly, I believe that Bob Dylan came to hear my voice that evening as well as me hearing his. During the interval I was approached by one of his retinue, a long haired American wearing purple jumbo-cords and a leather waistcoat with a portable tape recorder in his hand. This exotic creature could have stepped right off a UFO so far as I was concerned, he asked me what my name was and what I thought of the show so far. I could only utter my absolute approval in a string of  adoring superlatives. I felt like I was in Beatnik heaven, personally touched by this angelic emissary of the Master himself...one of the chosen few.

What could possibly be better than this?....Only losing my virginity the following year came anywhere close to the ecstacy of this event I am describing here...but then came the shocking and terrible fall!

Dylan's first half set was universally endorsed by the crowd, not so the second half.

When the curtain raised for the second half Dylan was no longer alone on stage, he was joined by a rock band who were The Band with Jamie Robertson and co.
This event split the audience almost right down the middle. The acoustic folk purists in the crowd booed and jeered, the Master was heckled and insulted by a hostile element who shouted things like 'go home pop singer' and 'Judas' before some of them noisily walked out.

I was absolutely mortified and deeply embarrassed by their behaviour.

The group I was with angrily leapt to Dylan's defence and responded to their taunts by demanding they 'get out of the theatre' and 'leave Dylan alone'....the mood had turned ugly.

 Second Half - Leopard skin Pillbox Hat (Live Manchester May 1966)

Dylan himself who had hardly spoken a word up until that point, bent down and wiping the floor with his finger in a gesture, just said 'dirt on the stage'... before launching into the next high energy electric number with The Band drowning out the catcalls, whistles, slow hand clapping and insults from the militant folknik element rioting just behind us.

The audience divided into two hostile groups, the atmosphere was more like a football match than a concert, although the majority were on Bob Dylan's side.

We true believers were preparing to do battle with the heretics and insurrectionists who apparently hated any musical instrument that had to be plugged in, and all those who played such instruments of the devil, as they seemingly saw it at least.

The auditorium had turned into a 'bear garden'... the Master had been maligned and denounced and we loyal fans had been transformed from prostrated adherents, into a pretorian guard standing shoulder to shoulder to protect our delicate and vulnerable artiste from the slings and arrows of outrageous slander.

Looking back it all looks ridiculous now, the very folk purists who protested at the use of electric instruments at Dylan's gig, a year or two later...were digging folk rock bands like Fairport Convention and Steeleye Span....bands who routinely mix traditional and electric instruments and have been applauded for it ever since.

Having said that it was a valuable lesson for me in self-reliance, bonding with friends and allies, standing up against opposition and being true to a cause.

I was very young at the time, just 14... but I do view this as some sort of right of passage and although I no longer idolise Bob Dylan (actually I don't even like him as a person very much nowadays) it still taught me something about passion and commitment.

It was also my first lesson in how to survive alone in the city at night which within a few years I was having to do all the time anyway.

So to me it was and still is much more than a concert, it was a significant life event and one I am glad to have had.