Saturday: Bob Dylan at Earls Court.

Well I certainly was wrong about this one. Dylan took over Britain for a week, sang wondrously well (only occasional lapses into his Rolling Thunder idle bellow), and was endlessly fascinating. The only bad words came from critics who'd made the wrong assumptions and never got to see him at all and otherwise I'd forgotten what rock criticism at its most self-conscious could be like. Dylan brought out the intellectuals, the lit crits, the what-theworld-means-in-1978ers. Dylanology lives and there's nothing much I can add except to agree that it was a one generational affair (c.30 years old) and an awed audience—quiet with private references, memories and favourites.