Dylan's 30th Anniversary Concert, 1992

A good night for most at MSG except Sinead O'Connor

I attended the guest-star driven 30th anniversary of Bob Dylan on Columbia Records at Madison Square Garden on Oct. 15, 1992, and reviewed it for Newsday and New York Newsday on Oct. 17: the show was much too long for an overnight deadline. I hesitated to post it here because in my criticism of Sinead O’Connor, I left little room for giving her the benefit of the doubt, something that has bothered me since her death July 26, 2023, really just a year ago. It wasn’t until I visited Ireland the previous summer that I became aware of the damage and trauma done to so many during the decades that the Catholic church was the state and the state was the church. Now, of course, it’s easier to get an abortion in Ireland than it is in too many of these United States. It was a tough time for O’Connor here in 1992, and I’m sorry I piled on, though my reaction at the time was honest. As an fyi for those who don’t know, I just retired after 12 glorious years teaching at a Catholic university, a blessed and unexpected second or third career.

The formal cause of O’Connor’s death in Ireland last year was finally made public just a few days ago: chronic pulmonary disease, asthma, bronchial infection. When she died, though, I texted a friend in Cork and asked if they had any update on what cost O’Connor her life at age 56. Her pithy reply was, “the church.”

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BOB DYLAN'S SONG catalogue is so varied and vital that Friday's four-hour concert at Madison Square Gardens barely got the key in the door of his musical warehouse. But since Dylan himself has shown such recklessness in rendering his repertory unrecognizable on stage in recent years, the presence of an all-star cast to the Garden to celebrate his 30 years of recording was a smart, successful concept.

Dylan, as always, was a shadowy presence. He didn't appear until 11:30p.m., to sing two solo songs: the ancient 'Song To Woody', from his 1962 debut album Bob Dylan, and 'It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)'.

That song's memorable line "Even the president of the United States sometimes must have to stand naked," was cheered as lustily - and seemed as relevant - as it was when Dylan unveiled it 27 years ago, during the presidency of Lyndon Johnson.

Dylan also appeared with the full cast for a version of 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door', and he concluded the show, solo again, with 'Girl From the North Country'. To the relief of many, Dylan resisted the impulse to reinterpret this ballad as, say, a piece of heavy metal thunder.

Most of the two-dozen artists who preceded Dylan were backed by the house band led by guitarist G.E. Smith and featuring, among others, Booker T. Jones (keyboards), Steve Cropper (guitar) and Duck Dunn (bass), of the renowned soul group Booker T and the MG's.

“My Back Pages,” by the ensemble.

The invited performers often provided intriguing mixes and matches with the Dylan material. John Mellencamp and members of his group gave a rough-hewn Midwest bar band jolt to 'Like a Rolling Stone' and 'Leopard-Skin Pill Box Hat'.

Lou Reed may have taken the prize for most obscure Dylan tune, with a slamming performance of 'Foot of Pride', an unreleased song from the 1983 Infidels album sessions that later appeared on The Bootleg Series.

Stevie Wonder, who was listed in the program as "surprise guest," sang "Blowin' in the Wind," which he had recorded in the 1960s, and made a convincing case for its continuing pertinence. Though presenting a stoic facade, Tracy Chapman straightforward acoustic version of ''The Times They Are A-Changin'' had many singing along.

Eddie Vedder and Mike McCreedy of Pearl Jam were virtually the only representatives of rock's contemporary cutting edge; they drew blanks when they were introduced to the muchly fortysomething crowd. But they did a pure, passionate, primarily acoustic version of 'Masters of War'.

When Dylan released Nashville Skyline in 1969, he bewildered many of his followers with his passion for country music. Dylan's attention helped Nashville begin its climb out of its inbred torpor. Just how deep and meaningful that connection has become was embodied by the appearances of Johnny Cash and June Carter, who gave an innovative roadhouse arrangement to 'It Ain't Me Babe'; Willie Nelson, whose rendition of 'What Was It You Wanted' was haunting and brooding; and Nelson, Cash and Kris Kristofferson, crooning 'I'll Be Your Baby Tonight' from John Wesley Harding.

Performances by George Thorogood ("Wanted Man") and Sophie B. Hawkins ("I Want You") were superfluous, and Johnny Winter was Flash Boredom on "Highway 61 Revisited." By contrast to the guitar blowhard Winter, Ron Wood's "Seven Days" was an unexpected high point, a wonderfully subtle yet forceful rendition of this somewhat mystical love song. Richie Havens' "'Just Like A Woman" sounded ready for a wax museum.

The Irish portion of the show offered the best of times, and the worst of times. The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem reunited for a rousing, uplifting "When the Ship Comes In." Then Kristofferson came onstage and said: "I'm real proud to introduce this next artist, whose name is synonymous with courage and integrity." But he was wrong. The name Sinead O'Connor is synonymous with self-serving, condescending assaults on the beliefs and values of those she presumes to entertain and enlighten.

It would be difficult to imagine a more tolerant and open-minded audience than that at the Garden Friday night: By definition, Dylan fans tended to grow up skeptical about authority figures - presidents, generals, teachers, religious leaders. Yet O'Connor - currently notorious for tearing up a photo of the Pope on Saturday Night Live - was greeted by the kind of boos Rangers fans direct at the visiting Islanders supporters.

Neil Young’s “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues”: How did I miss that?

Shaken, O'Connor's reflex was arrogance. Instead of singing Dylan's 'I Believe in You', as scheduled, O'Connor waved off the band and recited Bob Marley's 'War', the tune she performed on Saturday Night Live a few weeks ago. Placing her agenda above the evening's theme, she was the only artist not to sing a Dylan song.

It took Neil Young's joy-filled version of 'Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues' to cleanse the air. Chrissie Hynde sounded a little mechanical on "I Shall Be Released." Eric Clapton went two for two in his spotlight at bat: 'Love Minus Zero/No Limit' was brilliant, full of smooth, vibrant, eloquent guitar lines.

'Don't Think Twice (It's Alright)' began as a standard blues, and I was kind of sorry they didn't invite The Wonder Who (actually, Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons) - which had a modest hit with the song in the 1960s. But then Clapton reeled off a guitar lead that had the touch of Magic Johnson in a 25-assist game.

George Harrison's rendition of 'If Not for You' was very nice, but he missed the boat on 'Absolutely Sweet Marie', a Dylan tune owned by Jason and the Scorchers. Harrison is OK, but he's no Jason Ringenberg. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' 'Rainy Day Women #12 & 35', had many in the audience acting out the happy refrain, "Everybody must get stoned." (Not to endorse anything illegal, but there was something reassuring about scanning the audience and spotting bald guys smoking bongs).

Although the show succeeded handily in underscoring Dylan's impact on almost every important style of pop music for the last 30 years, there was one essential omission: rap music. I wanted to see Public Enemy do 'Subterranean Homesick Blues'. You know, the one that goes: "Johnny's in the basement, beatin' on some bikers / I'm on the pavement, busted outta Rikers . . . "