Dylan Keeps a-Changin’ With Times

Not only did Bob Dylan include his great new song “Things Have Changed” in both shows Friday at the 1,200-seat Sun Theatre in Anaheim as he launched his spring tour, but he turned it into the dramatic high point of the evening.

That’s news, given the mercurial singer-songwriter’s habit on tour of downplaying or ignoring recent material--no matter how strong--in favor of whatever nugget from his vast repertoire appeals to him at any given moment.

Clearly that’s how the 58-year-old poet laureate of rock keeps nightly performances fresh for himself. He seems to apply George Santayana’s dictum that those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it to the history of his performances--it’s possible that in 40 years on the road he’s never repeated the same set, much less played any song the same way twice.

Still, that can make anyone who’d rather hear what he’s written lately than, say, his 500th different version of “Mr. Tambourine Man” want to scream.

So it was cause to celebrate that Dylan thinks enough of “Things Have Changed” to make it the linchpin of his latest round of shows. Whether he’ll keep it that way as his tour moves up through California and then on through the West and Midwest, only God, and maybe Dylan, knows.

With its recurrent line “I used to care, but things have changed,” the song he wrote for the new Curtis Hanson film, “Wonder Boys,” is cut from the same cloth of profound disillusionment as most of those on his watershed 1997 “Time Out of Mind” album.

Pairing it near the end of the set with “Not Dark Yet,” a “Time Out of Mind” song that’s also on the “Wonder Boys” soundtrack, Dylan delivered a one-two knockout wallop.

He and his understated but resourceful four-man band--the same that toured with him most of last year--quickly restored emotional consciousness with a heart-jolting version of “Highway 61 Revisited” that ended the pre-encore part of the show on a note apocalyptic and celebratory.

This was not simply a canny entertainer shifting moods after a couple of downer numbers. Glower, Dylan may with his lyrics, but he never allows himself to disappear into the abyss of pessimism. His humanity sings through the vibrant music that usually frames his tales of woe.

In the case of “Things Have Changed,” an irresistibly sinuous minor-key melody and galloping rhythmic undercurrent, a la “All Along the Watchtower,” provide spiritual counterbalance to its message of despair. The unstoppable John Lee Hooker blues boogie he and the band wove into this “Highway 61” bespoke a resilience worthy of Job.

As he did on tour last year, Dylan opened his shows acoustic with a bluegrass standard (Ralph Stanley’s “I Am the Man, Thomas” at the early show, the widely recorded “Roving Gambler” at the second).

That demonstrated not just his inside knowledge of American roots music, but also acknowledged his huge debt to those bluegrass, country, folk and blues artists who inspired him.

His early and late sets had a few other things in common: a five-song acoustic portion that ended with a scintillating three-part harmony laced reading of “This World Can’t Stand Long,” a country-gospel number that rang remarkably current for a song that was a hit for Roy Acuff in 1948.

He ignited the electric portions of both sets with “Dignity,” whose line about “dignity ain’t ever been photographed” seems to be his byword as he’s refused in recent years to allow himself to be photographed in concert.

Then Dylan tossed in what Bobophiles on the Internet are calling the first-ever live performances of two songs from his 1969 “Nashville Skyline” album: the romantic dissolution ballad “Tell Me That It Isn’t True” (early) and the whimsical “Country Pie” (late).

The latter offered one of the few light moments all night, except for the encore nod to Buddy Holly with “Not Fade Away” that actually was muscular enough to suggest Dylan had memories of Bo Diddley running through his mind as he chonk-a-chonk, a-chonk-chonked his way through it.

In Friday’s late show, Dylan also turned in a gorgeous, wistful version of “My Back Pages” that developed a Celtic lilt when guitarist Larry Campbell switched to fiddle. And he sounded more apologetic than spiteful in his rendition of “It Ain’t Me Babe” near the end of the second set.

The capacity crowd, reveling at seeing a rock icon in one of the smallest theaters he’s played in decades, hung on every word. But the idiosyncratic object of their affection defied their every attempt to crank up a sing-along. A Chinese proverb says you can’t step into the same stream twice--Dylan makes sure nobody so much as gets the chance by rerouting the stream of his music with every performance.

The Sun Theatre landed the opening-night coup after Dylan’s agent saw Stevie Nicks there in January and liked the theater, choosing the Sun as the tour’s starting point and using it for rehearsals in the days leading up to Friday’s show. Because the Sun also was the only Southland stop scheduled, a smattering of celebrities were on hand. “Wonder Boys” director Hanson, comedian and “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” cast member Greg Proops and Los Lobos singer-guitarist-songwriter Cesar Rosas were among those spotted in the star-speckled crowd.

Dylan appeared energized to be touring again after a three-month break. His notoriously dour visage even broke into a smile periodically, though when the ends of his mouth turned up, it appeared that the rest of his face knew something was happening but didn’t know what it was.

Short of a nasal cavity transplant, he’ll never shake the thin, whiny quality of his voice, but he frequently showed more tone than usual inside that shredded outer husk and put as much effort as at any time in the last two decades into enunciating those cascading lyrics of his.

Campbell and fellow guitarist Charlie Sexton weighed in instrumentally now and then, and bassist Tony Garnier and drummer Dave Kemper kept the rhythms strong yet fluid. But Dylan grabbed most of the solos himself. Alternately slashing, plucking, caressing and even dancing with his guitar, he seemed to have decided that his only possible route to future Grammy wins is to think less of Santayana and more of Santana.

Lessons in history and string-bending notwithstanding, right now the Dylan news couldn’t be better.

Randy Lewis may be reached by e-mail at Randy.Lewis@latimes.com.