We were connected now, plugged into Dylan’s electric freedom and his voice rode with a rough edge over the tight music. ‘Concert’ was not quite the word for this performance, as words cracked in the air, I was aware I liked it more than any ‘singing’ I have heard before. When Dylan sang Pay in Blood (But not My Own) his voice sounded ancient, harsh and merciless.
A few days ago I posted a link on Facebook to a short piece in the Herald Sun about the tragic death of the rarest of Australia's raptors, the White-phase Grey Goshawk, in the Victorian city of Bendigo. This is Robert's wonderful tribute to that bird - written in prescience perhaps long ago but unchanged but for the last line.