Late post from March 30, but time is an illusion, time is a jet plane, time out of mind. This was a Memphis trek, in and out to see Bobby D one more time, at the Orpheum Theater. Great old palace, Elvis loved it and rented it out a lot, before the days of movie streaming, which Elvis would’ve also loved. Last time I was there , it was to catch up with my pal George Marinelli (who for years played guitar for Bonnie Raitt) and see Bonnie’s show, which was memorable, including venturing backstage afterwards where, among other things, I met David Porter, the famous Stax songwriter. There’s a poem about it in one of my books, but I digress.
Anyway, as I made my short trip to Memphis, I was flooded with memories from the years, from when my pal Bill Murphy and I made an all-night drive from Chicago to go to Graceland for the first time, to when my band Bucket Number Six recorded at Sun, to when I did numerous festival, coffeehouse, and club gigs there, sometimes with my ex coming along from Nashville, and then the trips with my son when he was little, and the zoo and the pink palace, and a great book release party at Burke’s courtesy my pal Corey Mesler, and now, heading back with my son as he’s older for return visits to see Elvis, Stax, Sun, and so much more. In fact, before the Bob show, I wandered down Beale and over to Lansky’s and the Peabody and as I thought of little Jude looking at the ducks and grown-up Jude looking at the ducks, I became very wistful and realized that Memphis is probably up there with Chicago, Nashville, New York and London, among the places I’ve gigged and visited the most. You get layers of memories when that happens, but again I digress.
So, due to a long story and last-minute Brooklyn Bowl show in Nashville, this was my second Bob gig in a week, rare but not unwelcome. Although the set was essentially the same as Nashville, but he mixed it up in delivery and approach (per usual) and there were different highlights, for me than the previous show, maybe drawing the club vs. theater vibe. In Memphis, I particularly dug the putting on the ritz “When I Paint my Masterpiece,” the overdriven “Gotta Serve Somebody” and the soulful “Mother of Muses.” And, “My Own Version of You.” There are now four Nashvillians in the band; they are locked in tight, watching his every move, responsive, and Dylan even gave an uncharacteristic shout-out to guitarist Bob Britt, after a rocking “False Prophet.” Maybe it was slightly better than the Nashville show and I got feeds afterward calling it one of the best of the tour.
Regardless, safe to say Bob was great; we’re lucky to have him. I’d say the same about Memphis.
Doug Hoekstra 