Bob Dylan in Glasgow: Night 2 (Nov 17, 2025)

The walks I took when I first arrived in Glasgow were sort of back ways through industrial areas. In the morning I walked down Argyle Street, into the part of the city that has an H&M (similar to the parts of other UK cities that have an H&M), and gradually the buildings seemed to get older until I found myself at the Necropolis.

The Necropolis is a a Victorian cemetery with a winding path up a hill, the top of which offers incredible city views. The trash cans are covered in punk rock stickers, which seems very Glaswegian.  There’s a giant monument to actor John Henry Alexander that features a statue of a headless woman holding a mask. The grave of the guy who wrote (or at least popularized) “Wee Willy Winkie.” I wandered up the path among the tombstones, looking at the old castle-like buildings and the hills in the distance, and listened to the Time Out of Mind sessions take on “The Water is Wide” and the tracks that followed it. It was one of those profound moments where the music seems to perfectly match the setting.

I met up with Nathan at Lebowski’s to rehash last night’s triumph and run down what we were curious about. Would the “sea shanty” version of “My Own Version of You” stick around? Would “Mother of Muses” or “Desolation Row” continue to evolve? How about the bridges in “River” and “To Be Alone?”  Would there be more lap steel? There were a lot of things to check off on the scorecard.

The stage setup appears to be the same, but the show began differently: the band came out and began to jam without Bob, as they’d done back in fall 2023. From my balcony seat off to the side, though, I could see Bob offstage in a blue blazer, rolling his arms toward Tony in a “wheels on the bus go round and round” motion, signalling them to keep it rolling (though Nathan would suggest he was casting a magic spell).  He eventually came to the piano and went right into “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight” without guitar.

The show began to kick into earnest gear with a funky “False Prophet,” and took a bigger turn when Bob began to play with the lyrics of “When I Paint My Masterpiece.”

Newspaper men - eating what? - Eating candy

Had to be held back - by who? - big police

Someday -when?- everything is gonna be beautiful

When I paint my -well!- masterpiece!

He chuckled out loud in the middle of this.

But of course, I was waiting with bated breath of “My Own Version of You.” When the band kicked in, it was apparent that we were getting a new, driving version, this time clearly rehearsed a bit ahead of time. It used a melody similar to last night’s sea shanty, but was sped up, and eschewed the “call and response” portion, just having the lyrics roar out one after another. A few lines didn’t quite hit the right meter, but the new arrangement was effective as hell. I was reminded of Tom Waits - something off of Real Gone or Rain Dogs. I couldn’t quite picture what sort of character this version of the narrator was, but I knew that he was one bad motherfucker.

“To Be Alone With You” was tight, with no guitar intro, and more seemingly-improvised bridges

Say the night time is the right time

Everything’s our way

Every time we, every time we say goodbye

Well I wish you’d stay

The second bridge started about the same and ended with something like “whatever you want I’ll get it for ya / whatever’s in the way.”

“Crossing the Rubicon” seemed a bit different to me tonight; more of a Chicago blues. Maybe it was my imagination but it seemed have that stripped down, smoky blues feeling more than before.

“Desolation Row” had Bob trying out a few things with the melody, doing parts in something like iambics. It hasn’t quite morphed into the new version I suspect is coming.

“Watching the River Flow” was a good, thumping version (with a rare harp solo). The first bridge went:

People disappearing everywhere you look

Ever wonder why?

Yesterday I seen somebody - I think so!

Couldn’t help but say good bye

The next bridge was much the same, but ended with “couldn’t help but cry.” With my trip about to end, and a return to Chicago where we refer to ICE agents “disappearing” people off the streets, the lines hit me hard.

“It’s All Over Now” through “Mother of Muses” continue to be a stunning trio.

This night’s rhyme for “suck out the juice” was “play on prairie, turn you loose.”

Overall this show didn’t hit the ecstatic excitement of the night before, but if it hadn’t been for the night before, it would have seemed like a masterpiece. The new “My Own Version” couldn’t be as exciting as watching the creating of a new version in new time, but it was still exciting to witness (three different versions in three nights!) And, though suffering a tiny bit from “first attempt” flubs, it kicked ass. By Dublin I’ll bet it’s tight as hell.

It wouldn’t be an adventure without another adventure, so in the parking lot Nathan, Tully, and I met Eli, Ceeley (spelling?), and Lara, going first to the hotel bar, then to Kelvingrove Cafe for cocktails, and from thence to a casino where Lara’s friend Kat help us lose at blackjack to a dealer who thoughtfully taught us all the real tricks to winning at Blackjack (which can be summarised as “don’t play.”)

Back in Dumfries, the Burns house was displaying a Burns-owned copy of John Aiken’s Essays on Songwriting. Curious, I tracked down a copy online to read on the train. Aiken cast a lot of side-eye at song collections that are “degraded by dullness, or debased by indecency,” or have songs from comic operas “that vile mongrel of the drama where the most enchanting tunes are suited with the most flat and wretched combinations of words that ever disgraced the genius of a nation,” or that have some good songs “mixed… with the trash of the times” and differing only from other collections by “substituting new trash for such as was out of date.”

Amidst all of the snivelling, though, there’s a good line: “It is not enough that Poetry does not disgust, it ought to give raptures.” That’s what I get from Dylan shows, no question, but those pre and post show adventures, those rambles in strange towns, those new discoveries and new friends are all such a part of the rapture. 

I’ll have so many friends in Dublin that I thought about flying back for it after going home to Chicago tomorrow, but fares seem very high. The water is wide, and I can’t cross over.

I’ll miss you all - hope I can see you in the spring! I’m just shy of my quest for 100.

(Over the winter I’ll work on putting my older reviews into this space something; get them all in one place.)