GUEST BLOGGER: Brenna Boyce

Let's face it: the daily blog can be quite a slog. For this reason, every weekend I will hand over the reins to a "guest blogger" who will get to post their two cents. This is a tradition born out of true laziness. This weekend's guest blogger is Ms. Brenna Boyce . Brenna is a fellow uptowner and former editor of Artsweek in Santa Barbara. Maybe you have read some of her work in that periodical, such as her interview with Morgan Spurlock. She and her man, who calls himself Dan, recently had a night out on the town and took in a star-studded Bob Dylan tribute concert (sans Zimmy) at Lincoln Center. Here is Bren's scintillating review of said show:


Having never been to the Upper West Side’s Lincoln Center before, I had visions of men in tuxes with top hats and canes accompanied by women in floor length gowns. However, upon pulling up to the venue in a pedicab (don’t ask) I was greeted with men in tie-dye pajamas. I realized then that this Bob Dylan Tribute show might not be exactly as I had envisioned.

I consider myself a pretty big fan of Dylan -- I even like the new stuff. But I felt like this tribute was a pissing contest of sorts; he who can find the most obscure song is the "truest" fan. While some artists chose the more traditional route, playing classics like “The Times They Are A-Changin’” and “Like a Rolling Stone,” others went for deeper tracks, much to the dismay of many audience members.

The show featured several of Dylan's old cronies, including Al Kooper , the organ player on "Like A Rolling Stone." Kooper brought out a wealth of studio musicians and played his heart out on “It Takes a lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry.” That track was cut 11 blocks from Lincoln Center and some 30 years later rocks harder than anything on the radio today.

In a surprising move, comedienne Sandra Bernhard , known for her raspy voice and cornucopia of cunt jokes, took the stage to perform “Like a Rolling Stone.” Her original take on the classic was preceded by a funny story of a young Bernhard destroying her brother’s collection of Dylan records because she thought it made him smoke pot.


I finally understood the tie-dye pajamas when Phil Lesh, original bassist for the Grateful Dead took the stage. The applause and cheering from the audience was deafening while his rendition of “Thunder on the Mountain” was plain awful. Equipment troubles, lack of preparation and just plain cockiness led to a jumbled, loud mess—that was given a standing ovation nonetheless.

One of the highlights of the night was The Roots who performed “Masters of War” with guitar, drums, and tuba. The amount of energy and emotion conveyed along with creativity and talent was unsurpassable. Complete with military drum beats and Jimi Hendrix-style guitar playing, their rendition got a whole lot of white geezers bobbing their heads.


In perhaps the ballsiest performance of the night, Ryan Adams took to the stage with not one, but 2 songs—a 20-minute conglomeration of “Isis” and Victoria’s Secret’s own “Lovesick." I watched as a few older people in the front got up and left mid-performance, but I saw that as a sign of success. If the elderly aren’t walking out on your set, you’re probably doing something wrong. Adams, his usual cocky self, blazoned the stage with the aura of a young Dylan—smug, risky, talented and intelligent. His hard-rockin’ riffs, noisy feedback, messy dress, and admirable desire to break the rules stood out against the aging musicians who preceded him and his band.

Thanks for the review, Brenna!