So some of you may find it strange to know that I’ve never heard Bob Dylan’s music before. Oh sure I’m certain I’ve heard other people sing songs he has written, but I personally I have never heard any of his music.
In late 2016 we lost a lot of amazing artists and I distinctly remember thinking (and probably saying) “I really hope that I get to see Bob Dylan before he deserts us too” thankfully that came true last week when my mom took me to see one of her favorite artists.
Now mom and I have not had an easy road. Any woman who has a mom knows how great a mother can be, she also knows what a massive pain in the ass mom can be.
We met up at the concert and grabbed some grub, literally just in time for the concert to start and wow. What a concert.
It was funny because I am so used to the show, that for awhile I was kind of offended that Dylan didn’t come out screaming and yelling to get my attention, I expected something far different than what I got. When I expressed this to mom she smiled and said “That’s not the kind of artist that he is” once I realized that, it was so much easier to just sit back and watch the show.
One of the coolest things about it was that throughout the night, the stage was set up to make you feel like you were looking through the window of a small jazz club, instead of sitting in a massively huge and filled arena.
Towards the latter half of his set, I curled up against my mom, a thirty-four-year-old woman, leaning on a (much) older, resting my head on her shoulder and allowed my eyes to close, letting the music flow through me. I recognized that this moment, shared with a woman who I’ve spent so many years fighting, was going to be a moment that I would remember forever. I think it was the first time my mom ever shared with me a real part of herself. My mom isn’t much into music or concerts, but in this singular moment she was sharing with me something from her life – she was sharing with me an artist that spoke to her, and for the first time began to understand my mom – at least for that second in time. It was a moment that I will cherish forever.
Now, Bob Dylan might have a shit voice – it may have been the equipment I don’t know, but it was without a doubt, the first time I remember cuddling my mom for more than twenty years, t was quite possibly the best night of my life, partly because it was friggin, Bob Dylan! and in part, because I had the opportunity to share my first Dylan concert, with my mom which is not something I’ll soon forget.
The best part is, at about 9:30 or so, he and his band put down their instruments, and without so much as a “Thank you and Goodnight,” they quietly walked off stage, before returning for the second half.
It was astounding to see musicians just let the music speak for itself, I’m not used to it, in this world of showmanship and showing off. I as a fan am far too used to being told how great I am by the musicians I admire, how much they love me – Bob Dylan did none of that. He came to Vancouver, he conquered the fuck out of that stage, and he left every last bit of his soul on it for us to view, and then…like the legend that he is…he walked into the shadows and on to the next town.
The music was lovely – the woman who kept standing in my way and kicking security guards, not so much. The funny part was that I wasn’t alone in my thinking that Bob should have been more of a showman, as we were leaving people were all having the same convo mom and I had. “He should have…” “but that’s not who he is…”
It was fun to talk with total strangers and share the experience, literally, everyone left smiling (except the drunk girl who got kicked out for kicking a guard) and laughing and it was just a fucking awesome night. So thanks, Mr. Dylan for coming to Vancouver, and giving me a fight free hour with my crazy mom, so we could listen to your amazing music.
Sunday night was equally as awesome with my other soul sister, Kelly Bestie. Kelly is on a phenomenal journey of her own, heading out to Burning Man in a few weeks – although I don’t quite understand the allure of wanting to spend an entire week with total strangers, Kelly seems to light up when she talks about. So naturally, we went out to my new favorite pup “The Irish Heather”.
I’d been talking for weeks about how astounding it was to find an entire community of people with Irish accents – so imagine my surprise when we showed up to everyone speaking with OUT A FRIGGEN ACCENT. We ate something called a “Spice Bag” which is basically a bunch of amazingly perfectly crisp french fries with five spice and oh my god was it fucking amazing.
We followed it up with a lovely walk through Gas Town, each looking for our own perfect shot. I think we got quite a few lovely shots – I even *finally* managed to get a few photos of Kelly Bestie, and we even walked past a place called “BESTIE” which was fucking awesome, but sadly, Kelly refused to let me take a picture. So you’ll have to just be satisfied with these lovely shots of the Down and Dirty East Side of Vancouver.