The Bob & Joni show is not a hot ticket

by J.D. Considine
Calgary Herald
November 3, 1998

Despite our reputation for being skittish about high art, North Americans do appreciate the value of the classics.

Put up a show of Van Gogh and we'll pack a museum; screen a new print of Gone With the Wind or The Wizard of Oz, and we'll forsake our VCRs for the movie theatre. After all, it's not often we get to experience a masterwork in the flesh.

So when it was announced that Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell would be touring together , most rock fans thought, "Wow! What a classic bill!"

What they didn't think was: "I better go buy tickets."

Even though these two are among the most recognizable and revered names in rock, the Bob and Joni Show is not shaping up as Tour of the Year. Although the two are playing a few big arenas, like Madison Square Garden in New York and Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto, most of the tour stops are at smaller coliseums and college athletic centres. In most cities, good seats are still very much available.

Why isn't this tour a bigger deal? It would be easy enough to put the blame on demographics. The typical arena-rock concert audience wasn't even born when Dylan was jamming with the Band at Big Pink, or Mitchell was coming down with A Case of You. When Dylan played Calgary solo on Oct. 16, he pulled a modest audience of 6,500.

But neither were they born when Mick Jagger first brayed, It's Only Rock 'n' Roll, and that hasn't stopped the Stones from packing stadiums on their last few tours. In fact, the Stones attracted fans of all ages -- and in large numbers, too.

No, a more likely reason people aren't rushing to see Dylan and Mitchell is that they know what they're likely to get, and would rather stay home with their CDs.

Dylan, in particular, has developed a reputation for uneven (and, at times, nearly unlistenable) performances. Even though he is still capable of greatness on stage, such moments have become increasingly rare. Far more typical are shows in which he seems indifferent or even hostile to the audience, delivering his best-known songs in a voice that boasts all the warmth and charm of a rusty gate-hinge.

Mitchell's standing has not been coloured by Dylan's sort of crustiness. But she's not the box-office phenomenon she was back in '74, when the live album Miles of Aisles testified to the charm and vitality of her live show.

It isn't that Mitchell's voice has lost its power. Rather, the problem for many listeners is that Mitchell's music has lost its appeal. Her most recent album, Taming the Tiger, is unrepentantly uncommercial, following its jazz-inflected muse without regard for current taste or trends.

A quarter-century ago, a bill like Dylan and Mitchell would have been a no-brainer. Today, it's easy to see why even those who own CDs of Blonde on Blonde and Blue and Ladies of the Canyon and Highway 61 Revisited would think twice before buying tickets.

But the problem really isn't with Dylan and Mitchell. The most significant change between then and now has less to do with what they deliver than with what fans expect.

In the early '70s, the notion of "rock classics" barely existed. Obviously, people back then liked hearing older songs by Dylan and Mitchell, since those were generally the songs that made them fans in the first place.

But they were just as interested in hearing new music by the two. Part of what made Dylan and Mitchell so appealing was the spark of creative genius that burned brightly within them -- even if the resulting fire occasionally burned out of control.

Nowadays, listeners' emotional attachment is to specific recordings, not necessarily to the musicians who made them. When they do go to see a classic performer like Dylan or Mitchell, they're more interested in hearing the old favourites than whatever new songs the artists may have written.

But musicians aren't frozen in time the way recordings are. Popular music doesn't work the way the classical repertoire does; talented young bands don't make their living performing classic singles the way orchestras perform symphonies.

Because the rock era has always celebrated the singer as much as the song, such faithful recreations have seemed second-rate, the province of novelty acts like Beatlemania and the all-ABBA show Bjorn Again. Which is fine, as far as it goes. But just as no one in the art world expected to see Picasso paint Guernica for the 600th time, it's a bit unreasonable for rock fans to expect Bob Dylan to do Like a Rolling Stone every night, just as passionately as he did in 1965.

"I have to compete with myself and often get panned for not playing my old stuff," Mitchell complained to Billboard recently. And she's right to be angry about it. Anyone who wants to hear her do songs from Court and Spark should buy the CD. The only people holding concert tickets should be those who want to hear what she's doing today.