
Bob Dylan has never been afraid of surprising an audience. On a sunny day in late July at the Newport Folk Festival, a young Dylan stood in front of a disconcerted public with a Fender Stratocaster electric guitar backed by a rock band — the very first time the famous folk singer did that. It was the ’60s. Some people left, others booed him or threw vegetables at the stage, yet he was unfazed.
Last Wednesday, March 25 at the University of Iowa’s Hancher Auditorium, the audience watched the band enter the stage: first the two guitar players Doug Lancio and Bob Britt, then bassist Tony Garnier, then drummer Anton Fig, yet they weren’t sure if the figure wearing a white jacket with a hoodie on was a technician or another member of the band.
It was Dylan. The lights were still on when he sat behind his electric keyboard. The place was packed, and bathed him in applause. Then he began to sing “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” and everyone was entranced.
Dylan’s visit was part of his Rough and Rowdy Ways tour, which started back in 2021, shortly after the album of the same name was released, and tickets to the show continue to be sold out. On Wednesday, both Lancio and Britt played electro-acoustic guitars throughout the concert, while Garnier switched between electric bass and acoustic counter-bass.
I had never been to a Dylan concert before, so I didn’t know what to expect, but I noticed a couple of things. During the whole concert Lancio stood with his back to the audience facing Dylan. I wondered if he wanted to be as attuned as possible to what the legendary songwriter was doing on the keyboard or if it was a way to make us feel as if the only focus of the night ought to be Dylan.
The second was that the 84-year-old from Minnesota did not interact with the audience except when he waved at the end to say goodnight. He seemed so absorbed by the act of singing that three-quarters of the way through the performance I wondered whether he’d introduce the band at all, which he finally did close to the end. The crowd nonetheless showered him with love. After each and every song people stood up and cheered without inhibition.
From time to time Dylan rose to stretch his legs but otherwise remained seated behind the keyboard. Two microphones had been set and for some reason he kept moving them, sometimes closer sometimes farther from his mouth. I imagined a special sensitivity in his ears which made even the minor shift in distance noticeable to his eardrums. It might have been this sensitivity and attention to detail that made him stop the band halfway through “Love Sick” and ask them to start from the top.
Before moving to Iowa City I lived in Brussels for a number of years, and I felt moved and nostalgic when I heard Dylan sing the verses of the 1971 hit “When I Paint My Masterpiece.”
I left Rome and landed in Brussels
On a plane ride so bumpy that I almost cried
Clergymen in uniform and young girls pulling mussels
Everyone was there to greet me when I stepped inside
Another unique moment for me was when he took out his diatonic Hohner harmonica to play the motif of 1963’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right.”
After he bowed and exited the stage the audience remained standing up and clapping, hopeful that there might be an encore. A moment later, the technicians came on stage and in darkness began to disassemble the equipment. I left Hancher feeling grateful to have experienced live the music of a great master.

