Review From The 1998 Canadian Tour
by Diane Sanjenko
In Quest Of Bob


I don't have the money to travel the world.  I listen to Bob, and only Bob,
in the relative seclusion and isolation of where I live, but in 1998 I have 
enjoyed the experiences of a lifetime.  After never having seen him before, 
I saw and heard Bob four times this year, culminating in front row seats 
at a concert only twenty  miles from my home.

But,  I get ahead of myself.  I don't have the advantages of people who 
live in more densely populated areas. I haven't seen Bob thirty-five 
times or written a book about him.  Bob has toured for a long time, but 
over the past thirty  years I have had to accept the fact that seeing him 
was out of my reach.
Before Internet access, the only times I heard about Bob being in Canada 
were usually after the fact and that was always too depressing to 
contemplate.  Seeing Bob live was more remote than a dream.

I take you now to August 1993, when I was seven months pregnant with 
my third child.  My husband, who works as a geologist at the northern 
Saskatchewan mining camp of Cluff Lake  flew home for his week off.  He 
and his crew listen to cable radio from Vancouver up north, because 
there are no local stations for hundreds of miles.  Randy casually 
mentioned in conversation that he'd heard that Bob was playing the 
following week at the Pacific National Exhibition (PNE) in Vancouver 
opened by Carlos Santana .

I was stunned, shaken and could hardly believe my ears.  I did some 
phoning and found that tickets were still available and I even had the 
money to drive there!  But, then, came the letdown of my lifetime. My 
husband and family agreed that my pregnancy was just too far advanced 
to risk a journey of that distance.  They thought that a two thousand mile 
return trip in four days might trigger premature delivery.  I know in my 
heart that they were right, but I mourned my loss for weeks and months 
afterward.  Two months later on October 18, 1993, I gave birth to a son 
and named him Dylan Samuel.

Now, I jump ahead to early March 1998.   I followed Bob via the net and 
continued to listen to and love Time Out of Mine.  I was uplifted and 
validated by the genius of that album.  I never lost faith in Bob's abilities.
I discovered information about Bob's West Coast North American tour 
that was to begin on May 14.  I convinced my husband that this would 
be the perfect fortieth birthday gift for me and ordered tickets.

I won't bore you with a description of the preparations for that excursion.  
That is a complete story in itself.  Stay in touch for the sequel.

Anyway, we took our children out of school for a week, and prepared for 
the pilgrimage to see Bob.  As I was packing for our trip on May 8, I 
happened to hear on the CBC morning news that Bob was going to play 
a club date on May 13, the night before the big concert with Van 
Morrison and Joni Mitchell.  Those tickets were to go on sale in Vancouver 
on the same day we were to begin our journey.  Tickets to the Rage 
weren't even sold over the phone, so I considered myself out of luck.
My family and I traveled to Vancouver, arriving at noon on Monday 
May 11, 1998. (See Vol. 2 for interim adventures and details).  I phoned 
radio stations and everywhere I could think of to try and locate Rage 
tickets for three days, but had no luck.  Late in the afternoon of May 13, 
only hours before Bob was scheduled to be on stage at The Rage, my 
husband took our children for a seabus  ride.   I decided to sit in our 
truck in a downtown parkade  and make a few last attempts at finding 
Bob tickets.  After many phone calls I finally got an answer at the club!  
The man I spoke with gave me the number of a scalper that did have 
tickets!  YES, YES, YES!

I had to pick up the tickets at a dubious pool hall  location before 
6:30 p.m. and it was already 5:30.  I frantically paced in the seedy 
parkade until my family returned.  My extremely good-natured and 
supportive husband found the pool hall in the midst of rush hour 
traffic and accompanied me in the purchase of my tickets.  I was 
ecstatic and my husband didn't even flinch when I spent $250 of 
our last $400 in cash on Bob Rage tickets.

I'm sure my feet didn't even touch the ground with those tickets in 
my hand.  My children thought I'd lost my mind, but kindly patronized 
me when I allowed them to TOUCH the tickets.

The race was on.  We got our children deposited and settled in the hotel, 
then fought our way through traffic back downtown to The Rage.  After an 
eventful wait in line, we eventually were allowed into the club and carved 
ourselves a chunk of standing room at the top of five stairs. .I made sure 
there was a railing beside me in case the reality of  Bob became 
overwhelming.  After all, I still really couldn't believe that I would be 
seeing Bob live very soon.  The crowd was electric and extremely 
entertaining.  Every age and income bracket was present, including a 
large number of red-haired women, in whose number I include myself.

My husband and I stood absolutely unchallenged by security at the top of 
those five steps during the entire concert, when everyone else who stood 
near us was asked to move, in compliance with fire regulations. Our view 
of Bob was perfectly unimpaired.  In the back of my mind I wondered at 
the reason, then finally just accepted it and decided that I could not be 
denied.  All my stars were just perfectly aligned.  In retrospect we 
realized that my husband's EMT-mine rescue leather jacket looked very 
similar to some British Columbian law enforcement jackets.  Security 
didn't ask us to move because they thought my husband was a cop.  
Thusly we had a guarded Bob-viewing platform.

Eventually, finally, wonderfully Bob was introduced and stunned me with 
his silvery bluish suit.  The intimate setting, one thousand of only the most 
ardent Bob lovers and the best music in the world all came together in an 
experience that defies definition.   Bob was obviously there to ROCK.  He 
opened with Not Fade Away and blew me away with every single song.  He 
smiled, danced, mugged, looked very relaxed and happy, and was 
obviously really enjoying himself.  It was an unbelievable evening.  I went
to the concert expecting no particular musical itinerary.  I didn't care what 
he played.  I was ready and willing to hear anything.  I was just as thrilled 
to hear the many Time Out of  Mind cuts as anything else (see set list).  I 
just loved every note and every second.  My tears of the evening came 
when he played "It Ain't Me, Babe" in the encore.  Randy and I were 
standing behind the soundboard and a woman in front of us was holding 
a bouquet of red roses.  She tried unsuccessfully to get people to pass 
them to the stage and the crowd was far too tightly packed for her to get 
to the front.  Finally someone lifted her and the crowd floated her and her 
flowers to the stage so she could give them to Bob herself.  It was very 
touching and I just stood there with tears running down my face.  After 
that Bob played Love Sick and Rainy Day Women and it was over.  It was 
absolutely the greatest night of my life to that point.

I take you next to the Bob/Van/Joni concert the following night at GM Place.  
We had precarious nosebleed seats and no binoculars.  Bob was still 
miraculous, but so different from the previous night.  At The Rage he was 
rock 'n roll Bob and at GM Place he was Bob Dylan Superstar Legend.  The 
whole atmosphere and crowd were completely different.  Two nights in a 
row were unforgettable, but for my very first times seeing him, it was almost 
sensory overload.  He opened the second night with one of my favorites, 
Absolutely Sweet Marie (see set list), and my tears ran.  I was thrilled to 
hear Cocaine Blues and Mobile even though the hockey arena echoes didn't 
help the sound quality and I had to share Bob with the masses rather than 
an intimate one thousand person crowd all tuned to the key of Bob.

I got more than I ever dreamed from my two Bob concerts and I thought 
my fairy tale was over.  As we started our long journey back to 
Saskatchewan the next morning, we heard on the radio that Frank Sinatra 
died while Bob was playing last night.  I was sorry, but wept not for him, 
but because Bob was gone.  I went back to my old life, but would never 
be the same.  Life over the next four months was relatively normal, except 
for the lingering smile on my face that I hope I never lose.  Then, one 
morning in September, I heard unbelievable news. Bob was booked to play 
the Canadian prairies in Calgary, Edmonton, Saskatoon, Regina and 
Winnipeg.  The Saskatoon venue is only twenty  miles from our home!  I 
got my wristband for ticket purchasing, but didn't need to use it because 
I WON FRONT ROW SEATS the day before tickets went on sale.  I had 
pictured in my mind that only front row seats would be acceptable to me 
in Saskatoon and that's what I got. I just would not be denied.  I also got
 tickets to the Regina show.  I doubt that I will ever be able to see Bob 
again in two cities so close to home.

After receiving three feet of snow on October 10 and 11, it all melted and 
Sunday, October 18 was a gorgeous, warm, sunny day of 14 degrees 
Celsius.  It was not only the Saskatchewan Place concert, but also my 
son, Dylan's, fifth birthday.  We had a party, cake and presents, but it 
was one of the longest days of my life.  I couldn't concentrate on anything.  
I paced all afternoon until it was time to go see Bob.  Jann Arden opened 
for him and was very good.  She obviously was honored to get this gig and 
said so.  She joked that she and Bob have been seeing each other and 
shared a big brass bed.  It was cute.

Finally, finally, finally Bob came on stage and we were right in front of him!  
He was so beautiful, even  with a chunk of hair sticking up at the back of 
his head like he had just gotten out of bed.  I loved his bedhead.  He 
began his set rather sternly and distant during Gotta Serve Somebody,  
I'll Remember You and Cold Irons Bound, but by Just Like A Woman he
just came alive.  He was impeccable, unbelievable and wonderful!  He 
played the harp and that was a first for me.  He didn't play it all in B.C. 
in May.  He played a brilliant acoustic set, including The Times They Are 
A'Changin', and I heard every syllable.  I know I gush, but he was 
magnificent!  He played stunning blues, electrifying guitar and he mugged, 
strutted and posed, all for me and looking right at me.  It was an 
unbelievable, wonderful night.  To be so close to him, to see  those  
beautiful  blue eyes, bedhead hair,  gorgeous clothes and HIM!  That face,  
that look,  that  profile.  I don't have to tell you that I love the man.  He 
wore black snakeskin cowboy boots, a black suit and the pants had silver 
piping up the legs and seven silver buttons going up the legs from the 
cuffs for about eight inches. (see set list)
I knew the concert was over after the encore and we left.  Massive blue 
northern lights were exploding across the sky.  I hope Bob saw them,
 too.  I was numb from the magic of it all.

Oh, I almost forgot something.  People make so much of the fact that 
Bob speaks very little on stage.  I just thought I would add that when 
he introduced Bucky, he said "that's Bucky Baxter on the steel guitar 
and he almost has it paid for."

My last night of Bob was on Tuesday, October 20 in Regina, 
Saskatchewan.  After another day of waiting, pacing and driving, we 
arrived at the Agridome and found our sixteenth row seats.  Jann Arden 
opened again and told about Bob having a "big, fucking dog."  There were 
BEWARE OF DOG signs on his equipment.  She also said that Bob's dog 
was "bigger than her ass."  Bob really rocked and he and the rest of the 
band seemed to be having a much better time than in Saskatoon.  The 
crowd in Regina was very appreciative of the outstanding musicianship 
and showed it.  It was an amazing concert.  I thought, after my three 
previous concert experiences, that I was relatively prepared for what 
Bob would do or play.  I was ready to accept and love anything he did, 
but My Back Pages touched me in a way that took me right back to my 
unhappy youth when Bob's  music was the only thing that kept me from 
killing myself.  I was caught completely off guard and my tears ran freely.  
That song always symbolized my past and Bob meant every word.  He 
WAS so much older then and is younger than that now.  Our seats were 
right at the end of the row and I just got up and walked to within three 
people of the stage.  I stayed there for the rest of the show and was 
electrified as much by Bob's proximity as by his music.  It was another 
incredible night.

Now, I revel in and am absorbed by the memory of having seen, heard 
and been  very close to Bob.  I am very grateful for what I have, but I do 
have one problem.  How does a person go back to an ordinary, mundane 
existence after receiving what Bob gives so openly and freely?  The whole 
world pales in comparison after having been so close to him .  How do I 
deal with it being over? I guess if my experience "strikes a match' in 
anyone, then it won't ever be truly over.

If I could follow Bob forever I would, but real life demands attention, so I 
go on,  post-Bob.  But life is not quite the same.  I don't pay homage to 
Bob in a vacuum.  I've had a taste of the living, breathing, miraculous 
Bob and I'll never again feel left out when hearing or reading about the 
experiences of others.  I've been closer than most and feel truly and 
forever blessed. 
            
Diane Sanjenko

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