Now, East Rutherford was a great show to start with, there was never any doubt about that. "Things Have Changed" roared like it was seeping through the cracks in the sidewalk, emanating from some sort of middle eastern carnival below, and "Nettie Moore," well..."Nettie Moore" this tour is the sort of thing can stop the earth in its tracks - or, even more impressive, stop the rich jerks in front of you who are really just there for cocktails from talking.

So I had no complaints about my trip to begin with. It was worth it just for those two songs. Spent a nice day wandering around New York until my feet hurt on Friday, hit a club with my agent at night, where we saw a band called Standing Nudes. This morning I hopped a bus in Chinatown that took me all the way to Philadelphia, where I met up with my girlfriend and then with the Wicked Moderator himself, along with a few others.

Now, we didn't have tickets, so we headed over to a rather crowded box office at the Spectrum around 2 - it turns out that the stadium next door had a couple of Cirque de Soleil performances going on. It took us half an hour to get there, and the box office refused to sell us Dylan tickets - outright refused - because they were too busy dealing with jerks who had arrived to the 2pm Circus at 2 on the spot wanting to buy a discount ticket. If we wanted anything else, they said, we'd have to wait until all of the people who were late for the circus were done.

But apparently it was all part of some divine plan (on Bob's part, no doubt), because after dinner with a few of the faithful, we headed to the arena, and a friendly fellow heard I needed two tickets, sadi "merry christmas" and gave us two for free - and they were better tickets than we would have had at the box office. Can't beat that with a stick.

We get in about midway through an enjoyable set by the Raconteurs, then relax until Bob comes out and rips into something with an organ intro.

"I think this is Levee!" said Ronni, sitting next to me.

"No way," I reply. "Can't be Levee. No way."

But she was right. I was wrong, she was right, and the night was starting with a live debut. And not only that, but a damned fine one - Bob was singing HARD. Not reciting, not just spitting it out, but spitting it out with venom, in a way I hadn't heard him SING in a long time. Far higher energy than the album version. I was barely able to contain myself.

Now, when you get a live premiere to open to show, it's hard to feel like you could possibily ask for more - after all, most shows the last couple of years have been the kind that are "very good with some clear highlights." I was a bit worried that he'd showed his hand on the first song - I could leave satisfied already, and the rest would be just one more show, but as it turned out, that was just the start - from there it was into a Tom Thumb that it looked like Bob couldn't wait to start singing - he jumped right in, and sang the jolly green hell out of it, finishing with long, fine harp solo. By this point, it was perfectly apparent that Bob was ON. And I mean ON. There are nights when he's good, nights when he's very good, nights with very good highlights, but this was none of those. There wasn't a verse phoned in all night.

Highwater gives Bob a chance to show us that the band is on tonight, too. By Denny's second solo, it's apparent that he's the most under-rated guitarist Dylan has ever had. To read some review, you'd think he played guitar about as well as I play the lute. These are the same people who decided Modern Times would suck based on the font on the cover, of course. Denny was really wailing on many of these solos tonight - not as over the top as Freddy Koella or Jack White, but sort of a more professional version of the same thing. Meanwhile, in the background, Donnie is jumping into the riffs Bob is coming up with on the organ (following a trend started last year, when the little piano riffs started coming in), making Bob an actual, integral part of the sound of the band - something he rarely actually is. Bob was still singing like a man possessed here - with a lyric change: now it's "I'm preaching the word of Gd / I'll open up your eyes," (or, anyway, that's what I head) which somehow sounded even more menacing than the original.

Next up is a melodic (yep, melodic) Ramona, a rough and dirty Rollin, and a Desolation Row unlike any I've ever heard - along the lines of the album version, only more fleshed out, for better or worse, with Dylan still singing for all he's worth. Even Most Likely was sung like he really wanted to get the point of the whole thing across.

Special notice has to go to Hollis Brown, with the band stepping back and Dylan setting up a sense of foreboding that lasted the ENTIRE song, grabbing you by the throat. You could see the South Dakota farm and hear the echo of the gunshots. Then, after repeating the last line, the band ROCKS for about three sudden notes, and the effect is just incredible.

THen, as if this weren't enough, we end up with "Nettie Moore." Not so different from the album version, maybe a little more "full," but with Dylan taking more chances on the vocals, singing with a bit more ache and bit less technique, and, as usual, the rich jerks who had barely shut up for a minute actually stopped talking.

It should be noted that Dylan was clearly enjoying himself - he was bouncing around behind the keyboard like a hyperactive kid, moving his feet in a way that I can't officially call the moonwalk, but wasn't far off. At the end of one verse of "Desolation Row," he actually jumped.

Now, in the post-show high, it's always far too tempting to jump into "best show since 97" and other such superlatives, so I won't, but I will say that this was one of THOSE shows. The kind you hope to get when you go to show after show, where all of the singing and the arrangements come together, and what ever it is that takes Bob over is taking him over, and something in the air just grabs you and shakes you around the whole night, leaving you feeling exhausted. The four other people in my party (who were sitting well apart from us, on the opposite side of the arena) were equally excited by it. We were all practically giddy as we walked back to the subway.

I'm heading back to Chicago in the morning, so no New York City show for me. That's all right. When you get a show like this, it's hard not to feel like anything else would be anti-climactic. On the other hand, I have a feeling that those of you hitting the show on Monday might be in for a sight to see.