Blogagaard Receives Commissioned Report From The Inspketor

From the Gaard Wire-

The Inspektor saw Bob Dylan and his band at the minor
league baseball field in Fargo tonight. The Inspektor
has long been a fan of Mr. Dylan and saw him last in
February of 1999, in Michigan.

The Inspektor has never been one to appreciate bands
that dress alike, but he was willing to look the other
way when Mr. Dylan's five-member band strode onstage
in matching plum-colored suits with black shirts and
black fedoras. These outfits were simple and tasteful.
The Inspektor is never one to nitpick, but he could
not help wonder why the pedal steel player was not
wearing a black fedora like everyone else, including
Mr. Dylan. The pedal steel player was wearing the plum
suit and the black shirt. Just no hat. Quite odd, if
you ask the Inspektor.

Mr. Dylan wore a crisp, silver jacket with black
lapels, black pants with silver buttons down the
sides, and the aforementioned black fedora. He stood
at a keyboard the entire night with his left side to
the audience. He swayed often as he played and
occasionally swung his knees in and out.

It's one thing if only a few of the band members are
wearing a hat, but when only one band member is not
wearing a hat the Inspektor finds it more than a bit
conspicuous.

On a handful of songs, Mr. Dylan leaned into his
microphone and played harmonica. It was during these
moments when Mr. Dylan connected most with the
audience. Too often, his keyboard was lost in the
powerful arrangements of the group and the Inspektor
couldn't help but long for the days when Mr. Dylan
could talk with his guitar.

The Inspektor will admit that the pedal steel player
did occasionally stand to play the violin. The
Inspektor wondered if this was the reason he was
hatless. Perhaps the violin's bow would keep knocking
the hat off and so he was exempt from the hat. But the
Inspektor studied the position of the pedal steel
player's arm when playing the violin and determined
that the bow did in fact leave plenty of room to
accomodate the modest brim of a fedora.

Mr. Dylan looked thin, and, the Inspektor couldn't
help but notice, a little like Prince. On a night when
the temperature dipped near the 40s, Mr. Dylan's voice
was the star. It was weary and jagged and beautiful.

The Inspektor could understand if the pedal steel
player had a large buoffant hairdo that made a hat
impractical. This was not the case. His hair was flat,
parted from left to right.

Mr. Dylan, 65?, has a new record out that is the
number one record in the country. It is his first to
debut at number one. Mr. Dylan did not play any songs
from his new record. This show was the final stop on a
twenty-city summer tour of minor league baseball
stadiums. He will begin his arena-tour in support of
his new record in October.

The Inspektor wonders if Mr. Dylan hired the pedal
steel player knowing that he would not wear a hat like
everyone else. Did the pedal steel player say, 'yes,
Mr. Dylan, I will tour with you. I will wear the plum
suit and the black shirt. But I will not wear the
black fedora. That is where I draw the line?"

The Inspektor spent much of the night thinking about
Mr. Dylan's life and career. The Inspektor looked
around at the thousands of people gathered in the
stadium and wondered what it must be like to have that
many people love you. He hopes that those feelings
warm Mr. Dylan when he crawls into bed each night. The
Inspektor also wonders if this does not also make Mr.
Dylan feel very lonely.

Mr. Dylan and his band played a two-song encore and
when they finished everything went black. The
Inspektor could see that Mr. Dylan was not exiting the
stage. His band members, all in plum suits, all in
black fedoras except one, were moving around behind
him, unstrapping themselves from their instruments.
All six of them approached the front of the stage in
the darkness and then the full lights came up on the
stage and in the stadium. Mr. Dylan was standing front
and center in his silver jacket. His five band members
stood stoically at attention in a half-circle around him
in their near-matching plum ensembles. This was the
only time Mr. Dylan directly faced the audience the
entire night. He surveyed the thousands in front of
him. He said nothing. He raised both his hands up near
his face and held them in the air as if he were just
about to snap his fingers. And then he did nothing. He
just gently held his hands there and let the hooting
and hollering and yelling wash over him. He waited in
that position for twenty seconds, the cheering never
wavering, and then the lights went out.