It just so happened that I found myself in Palm Desert to see Dylan on June 20th, 2026 – the day that also marks the 60th anniversary of his masterful seventh studio album, Blonde on Blonde, the home to my personal favorite “Just Like a Woman.” So, as you might imagine, I’m holding my breath, praying he’ll play it just for me.
However, I’m no stranger to Dylan’s style. I knew deep down he wouldn’t play a single song off that record, or any of the big cuts for that matter. Would I have loved to lose my entire goddamn mind hearing him mumble his way through “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” “Like A Rolling Stone,” or the entire 10 minutes of “Desolation Row”? Absolutely.
Growing up I knew Dylan’s hits, but it wasn’t until 2020 that I decided to take a deep dive into his discography, and I immediately fell under his spell. At that particular time in my life, I had a bad case of the blues, and my head was rarely quiet. Those were the times when I’d reach for Dylan’s live records and be fully swept off my feet, away from my circumstances and into the crowd at Royal Albert Hall in 1966. Hearing Dylan play the essentials would have been profoundly healing for me to say the least.
But that’s what makes Dylan a very different rock ‘n’ roll legend. This tour, and every tour that came before, is by no means a victory lap or some sort of reach for ‘60s nostalgia. Word on the street (Twitter) is that he’s mostly playing songs from Rough and Rowdy Ways and cherry-picking deep cuts from the massive catalog. As a big fan myself, I was absolutely honored to see whatever it was Mr. Dylan wanted to do up there. It is his stage after all; we are all just guests.
Dylan’s longstanding “no photography” policy left for a refreshing darkness in a sold-out arena. He had the whole room in the palm of his hand despite being tucked away behind his piano, bundled up in a black zip with the hoodie all the way up. He approached his set with the air of an up-and coming singer/songwriter that nobody’s heard of but delivered classic cuts like “To Be Alone With You” and “All Along The Watchtower” like the Nobel Prize-winning folk legend that he is. Fleeting, simplified, understated, and with the grit everyone came to hear.
I am curious about the band’s re-approach to the electric bluesy shuffle of “Goodbye Jimmy Reed” and “False Prophet” that I was very much dying to hear live. I feel as though the band could be setting up Bob in a more dynamic way, something a little closer to the original pockets to give those songs more live legs. In a way that could maybe even inspire audiences who might be slightly unfamiliar with the deep cuts to leave the show with a new Dylan to dive into.
Much to my dismay, halfway into the show, I started to see attendees in my section walk out of their very expensive seats, shaking their heads, one by one, group by group. Many left long before Dylan had the crowd swooning with one of the show’s few harmonica solos during “Every Grain of Sand”. I suppose they were thinking they’d hear “Mr. Tambourine Man” or “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” and relive their glory days or something. But that’s what makes Dylan so dope. He’s put out 40 studio albums over the course of seven decades and has continued to tour as so much more than just a legacy act. He remains authentic to the artist he’s always been and never stopped. The glory days are not behind him. In his words, they’re “today and tomorrow and yesterday too.”
