Bob Dylan “At Budokan” Review

Picture it, Las Vegas, 1979. I walk into a cheesy lounge that has red velvet
wallpaper with black diamond shapes on it. A cheap oriental rug lays on the
floor. Old men smoking cigars, hair down to their collar and big sideburns,
trying to pick up young girls. From the stage I hear some Bob Dylan music. I
turn the corner and see the stage. Bunch of guys wearing leisure suits and three
backup singers in evening gowns. The lead singer is wearing a big gold belt
buckle. Is that the WWE champ? Can't be. They're playing "Mr. Tambourine Man"
now. Flutes? Who would put flutes in "Mr. Tambourine Man?" I get closer to the
stage. It can't be. It's Bob Dylan.
He does his set, then turns to the mic and in his best Elvis voice says, "Thank
you very much," then leaves.