The Concert in Helsinki

September 23, 1987

We finally arrived, after being 17 hours on the water, in Helsinki. It was the early afternoon. We all climbed on board our fleet of five black buses, (ours was always mostly empty), rolled off the ferry, and wound our way to the hotel. There was no GPS then, and I was always impressed by our driver’s navigational skills, with Victor’s help.

Jäähalli ice arena, Helsinki

But I was even more impressed to see Bob’s confidence that after two days of steady traveling, the well of his energy would refill in the next few hours, in time to hold the collective energy for 8,000 people in an ice arena called the Jäähalli. I felt ungrounded, still rumbling from the road, and then the ferry, but Bob was so used to a lifetime of touring that he was utterly unfazed by it. I was glad we had enough time for a bodywork session in our spacious hotel room before he had to get ready for his concert. What I was doing to loosen up his thigh sockets was really working, and he could feel it. He loved the sessions, and took to heart my exhortations to use his ankle, knee and hip joints like springs when he was on stage, instead of locking them. Now and then, as he was singing, he’d get that spring going, and turn to look at me as I watched from the wings. He’d beam with pride, like he was saying, “I’m workin’ the springs, Coach!”

Many thanks to nightly moth for this high quality stereo recording of the Helsinki concert! Check out his fabulous substack devoted to Bob Dylan: nightlymoth.substack.com

The crowd was excited, the band in good form, and Bob ready to deliver. Roger McGuinn opened the show as usual, with his voice, singing two Byrds tunes, then their cover of Pete Seeger’s song, “Turn, Turn, Turn,” and wrapped up with “Mr. Tambourine Man” before The Heartbreakers launched into their set. If Bob had only written one song in his life, and it was “Mr. Tambourine Man,” it would have been enough to seal his immortality.

It was a surprise to hear Bob open with “Highway 61,” (I think it was the only concert in which it was the opener), and another surprise to hear Howie Epstein’s passionate, laudable slide guitar work, inevitably bringing Michael Bloomfield’s original version to mind, (that it would only be unfair to compare any guitarist to). Bob was just getting warmed up, and played with singing each verse at a different volume, in a different tone.

“Dead Man, Dead Man,” backed by the Queens of Rhythm, felt like Bob was casting a spell, and “Watching the River Flow” had a kind of country passion about it. But when he got to “Simple Twist of Fate,” the crowd cheered the moment they recognized the chords, and as soon as he started singing, the mood droped down to where the feelings live in their own terrain, the band provided a tender, evocative atmosphere, and he took us all with him, straight to the heart, telling us the story, touching us all on such a personal level, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one with tears. The crowd erupted in love and gratitude.

That experience was so strong, there was no reason to keep doing that song after song. He jumped into “Maggie’s Farm” next, like hopping a freight train that’s already up to speed, and made us all run to catch up and jump on with him.

Now that train is roaring at full speed, with “Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again,” and on “Señor,” the girls beautifully support Bob’s heartfelt lines. But “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” shifts gears into new territory, with one of his re-creations of one of his early classics. He’s redesigning it, playing wildly, expertly, with the phrasing, and the effect is exhilarating. How he manages to re-invent his songs, with almost as much creativity as they were originally written with, is simply one of his super-powers.

I won’t go through all the songs, (but you can hear the whole concert on nightly moth’s video above…one note: he has placed McGuinn’s “Tambourine Man” at the end, seeming like a final encore, but it was actually the closing number of McGuinn’s opening set), but three more highlights were: “I Shall Be Released” – to which the crowd roars as it begins, Bob delivers it with heart, and the singers raise it up to the rafters – and the two encores: “Desolation Row” done with a moving delivery, and “Blowin’ in the Wind,” with the girls behind him as he does it in a completely new way, entoning it, flattening it out, minimizing the melody and almost chanting it, which brings the seriousness of its questions to the front, and takes it out of the realm of entertainment altogether.

The depths of Bob’s well of inspiration and sheer energy are beyond my comprehension. This is not a well, it is a healing spring, eternally raising up the pure waters from the center of the Earth to the surface, where they can be enjoyed with delight as well as work their healing magic.

But the newspaper the next morning runs a bad review of the concert, with the headline, “The god arrived. The man performed.” I naïvely believed Bob didn’t care about silly reviews from disgruntled journalists angry because he didn’t grant them an interview. But he does. Care. Mysteriously, this brings the pale blue light into view.

Another night, another galaxy he sails us through. Tomorrow afternoon, we will re-board the ferry and float back through the night to Sweden, for shows in Gothenburg and Stockholm.