Bob Dylan = Huge Disappointment, And Other Thoughts on Austin City Limits

This was my first ACL. And I went mainly for two bands: The White Stripes, and Dylan. The White Stripes didn’t show. And Dylan, as the headline suggests, sounded like death. I mean, we stuck around for maybe five songs of his set last night. He did “It Ain’t Me, Babe” as a weird, up-tempo, almost jazzy number. I didn’t even know he was playing it until midway through the second chorus, when I heard “me, babe” and pieced together that Dylan’s guttural wheezes were in fact part of a song I loved, though of course nothing like the song I love. We were among thousands–it sure looked that way–to leave his set early, and outside on Barton Springs Road, when an ambulance passed, sirens whirring, the guy walking next to me said, “You better hurry. There’s a dead guy on stage.”

The good news? Arcade Fire might very well be the best act I’ve ever seen, their live show as big and bombastic as their music. They, along with Bjork, made the festival worthwhile. Local girl St. Vincent, as this live blog attests, does not need a band or even a decent venue to rock. And some dudes named Railroad Earth had me pining for a spoon and a jug.