Last Night in Clarkston (by Caryn Rose)

2025-06-20, Pine Knob Music Theatre, Clarkston, MI

Photo by @shagadeIic

Last night, after a month break, the Outlaw Tour resumed in Clarkston, Michigan. And who else to recap it but our Dedicated Clarkston Correspondent (that is, she did last year’s show there too) Caryn Rose.

(This is the first of a number of day-after recaps I’ll be running from leg two, mostly going out to paid subscribers only. And bonus: We’ve already got a full tape of last night too!)

Caryn writes Radio Nowhere, a great newsletter about Bruce Springsteen—“Flagging Down for The Boss” is reductive, but if you like this single-artist format and you like Bruce, it’s a must-subscribe—and right now she’s focusing on the 50th anniversary of Born To Run with essays about the great covers of the era as well as deep dives on the evolution of each song from the record including early demos. Click here for a sale on subscriptions in honor of the 2025 Springsteen tour. She also just wrote a guide to Tracks II for NPR.

Over to Caryn…

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The sun was just setting behind the GA section at Pine Knob and bouncing off Bob’s disco piano as I glanced up and Bob Dylan and his band were suddenly walking onstage. It seems wrong, there should be some kind of fanfare or at least a carefully prepared and recited introduction. But no, here’s Bob, while people scramble to get back to their seats carrying tallboys or slices of pizza while I’m on the edge of my seat wondering if this leg of Outlaw will continue from the previous one or break new ground.

Tony was wearing shades and the gentleman next to me cleverly turned his baseball cap askew so the light was not piercing into his retinas. It was very bright—it is the Solstice, after all—and it was just another demerit against seeing rock and roll outside. Why did we ever think this was a good idea? I had mosquito bites before the show even started.

The opening number was “Gotta Serve Somebody,” which pointed to a continuation from the previous leg for the setlist. (But now that I saw the setlist on Bob Britt’s instagram, I see that it could have gone either way.)

“I HAVE NEVER SEEN BOB DYLAN BEFORE,” says a woman behind me in a very outside voice. “I AM SO EXCITED.” I decide that I am keeping my earplugs in and sit up on the very edge of my seat to try to distance myself from the loud conversation.

The most important factor tonight was how laid-back Bob seemed to be. The energy on that stage was relaxed and expansive. The crowd recognizes the song from the first line and applauds approvingly. He finishes it off with a lovely glissando.

“Simple Twist of Fate” and Bob is hitting big chords on the piano, but they are actual melodic groupings of notes and not the kind of plunk plunk plunk we saw on the Midwest outing this past spring. Bob Britt is doing the lean in/creep over sideways walk to either admire what he was doing or to try to figure out what he’s doing next. Just big chords, expansive, open.

I don’t think I really appreciated the fiber-optic tree contraption on the piano until I saw it in person and probably because the sun was absolutely glaring off of it for the first handful of numbers. (Tony was wearing shades, even though he’s the guy who could go hide behind something.) “Forgetful Heart” gets one of those collective positive sighs of approval.

The audience was trying to be attentive, but they were also incredibly chatty. Pine Knob was sold out for this show; I arrived at 4:30 and the lots closest to the venue were already full. My seat was stage right just off the aisle, 20-something rows back. The aisle next to my section dead-ended into the front block of seats. What this meant was that it was the stopping place for the procession of people needing to come up and get their photo taken with Bob Dylan in the background. You could be crabby about it, but most of the people doing it were in their 20s. It was sweet how important it was to them to have this moment.

During “Axe and the Wind,” I notice Bob turning his head to the left. A guitar solo ensues. Ah, I think, a clue. “To Ramona” got a surprisingly large amount of applause, and as usual, a larger roar when he picks up the harmonica for the first time. It starts from back on the lawn and rolls forward. The whole song is gently loping along, it feels effortlessly loose but that’s probably the hardest thing to pull off, to make it seem like you’re not trying. This was not an exceptional night for the band, but it wasn’t a bad night, either.

“Early Roman Kings” remains a firm favorite. Anton Fig locks in here, it’s just so solid, an actual edifice that still breathes, big, deep breaths. “My bell still rings”—tonight it’s just a statement and not a declaration or a challenge. And then, “I’ve had my fun, I’ve had my flings…” He looks to his left, and the song ends. “Under the Red Sky” was just beautiful, while things got a little out of sync during “I’ll Make It All Up To You” and for a few seconds I’m not sure everyone was playing the same song.

The persistent durability of “All Along The Watchtower” continues to amaze and thrill me. He keeps taking it apart and putting it back together and every single time it still works, it still captivates, it still inspires. It makes people so happy that they get to hear Bob Dylan sing this particular song. This rendition is of course adjacent, but not exact, but then the guitar solo is absolutely more recognizable, and you can feel the crowd’s energy as they soak it all in. They stand up, they applaud with great appreciation.

Bob is definitely feeling himself on “Til I Fell In Love With You,” there’s something extra spicy about it. On the second chorus, he’s definitely dragging out the fell in looovvvveee with youuuuuuuuu. It’s like the guitar is having a dialogue with the piano and with the chords. And at the end: CHORD - CHORD - CHORD - CHORD - more big chords, an audible “Thank you,” and he sat down briefly and visibly chuckled. He SMILED.

It is time for “Desolation Row,” motherfuckers. “They’re selling postcards of the hanging” feels closer to today than the time it was written about, and this song is absolutely, always a journey, it is a procession, it is a recitation, it is a moment. The people who know what they’re watching are trying not to breathe too hard, and I appreciate them, I see them, I am with them. We are not having casual conversations about whether we need another beer. I think he changes the Bette Davis line but cannot make out who he substitutes it with. I remember being a teenager hearing this song for the first few times and wondering if I’d ever get to see him sing it live, and now I have the privilege of seeing it regularly. Goddamn.

But then there is Rock and Roll Dad, who exhibits the kind of behavior I call “the Conductor.” Have you ever noticed the people at concerts who keep turning around to face the audience and gesturing disapprovingly at what they believe is an inadequate response? That was him. He really pours it on thick during “Desolation Row,” thus encouraging a whole cadre of women in my section to get up and dance exaggeratedly in a manner that bears zero relationship to the actual song they are dancing to, and that would have been fine, but then they also spend a lot of time trying to get everyone else around them to stand up and dance, in between shouts of “Bob Dylan! WOOOO!” There is something almost enthralling about the absolute absurdity of the situation.

“Love Sick” is the afterglow to “Desolation Row,” and then “Share Your Love With Me” becomes the “get up and go get beer” song. It is a mass exodus. The band intros follow, and then I get to hear “Blind Willie McTell.” I had the privilege of getting to hear Benmont Tench perform this number in Chicago back in May, coincidentally the same night Bob pulled this out. This is another crowd favorite, and another moment for Anton Fig. It’s so sad, though, because it’s almost over.

Almost, but not yet. “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” is of course our set closer, and there’s a respectable roar of recognition that’s probably tied to A Complete Unknown. But this was a moment of absolute and total magic, an extension of that warmth Bob walked out onstage with. You’re watching the song’s performance and all of a sudden you are locked in with the artist and with the people around you and you are transported—emotionally, energetically, probably cosmically. The harp break was singular, it was perfection. The gentleman next to me had taken out a pair of binoculars and after that harp break offered them to me, and I got to watch the next one, and I completely attribute it to the spontaneous combustion of the moment, that he knew I would greatly appreciate the opportunity. My heart expanded, I breathed a little deeper.

And then Bob is coming out from behind the piano and standing with the rest of the band and the crowd is on their feet and cheering with everything they have. They just saw Bob Dylan and they knew what they saw. The sun was finally setting and shooting streaks of orange and peach into the sky. I walked out feeling like that woman in that scene in Rolling Thunder, where the show ends and she just bursts into tears because it’s over and the realization has finally dawned on you that you saw something amazing and now you are bereft. It is over, but just for now.

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Thank you Caryn! As if I didn’t already have enough FOMO that the tour is taking so long to come East. In addition to her Bruce newsletter, find her on Bluesky.

2025-06-20, Pine Knob Music Theatre, Clarkston, MI
Tape courtesy Ontario Delta Outlaw and Bennyboy - thanks!