Under normal conditions, the artist known as Cat Power is abnormal by standard pop behavior standards. To extend that reference, she has been known to be predictably unpredictable on stage and in her quirky career path — which is partly why we followers are so entranced. The last time she played Santa Barbara, at the Lobero in 2022, for instance, she seemed a bit detached and mystical in the half light, working two microphones and busting into a fleeting Elvis impersonator moment, shuffling between originals and covers from her then current covers album.
Strangely enough, though, her appearance last week at the Lobero found this fascinating artist in an unusually straight and highly structured mode. Of course, it helps that the Cat (born Chan Marshall) is presently sticking to a highly conceptual and strict script, literally reenacting an iconic concert by folk-pop Bard Bob Dylan. What we heard last week was a live — and lived-in — performance of her new recording Cat Power Sings Dylan: The 1966 Royal Albert Hall Concert, dutifully redux-ing Dylan’s infamous London concert and his then-controversial costume-change from acoustic to electric band mode halfway through the performance.
One unusual side effect of Cat Power’s new project is an audience draw including both her diehard fans and a new influx of Dylan fans/Baby Boomer curiosity-seekers, which made the Lobero crowd uncommonly diverse. (The show was also a rapid sell-out.) By a casual survey after the show, listeners from both the committed fan base and newcomers sides of the aisle had a fairly ecstatic response.
What made the buzz so buzz-worthy? Power brings what, to my ears, is the greatest Dylan tribute out there, with her low, rambling, and rough-toned voice, spontaneous bluesy twists and flexi-phrasing. Her approach to singing shares a kinship with Dylan’s own, but never stoops to the easy caricature others have imposed on the Dylan songbook.
In a belatedly fit-to-order introduction to the night, she launched into “She Belongs to Me,” with the key line “she’s got everything she needs, she’s an artist, she don’t look back.” All true in Cat Power’s case, except that her current project does look back in a concerted, conceptual way. Her acoustic set, bolstered by young guitarist Arsun Sorrenti’s steady-Eddy anchoring sound mixed in with sparing (and decidedly Dylan-esque) harmonica licks from Aaron Embrey, hit special emotional paydirt on songs which have become true classics — “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” “Desolation Row,” and a capper of “Mr. Tambourine Man” (from before Nitty Gritty Dirt Band coaxed a hit from the song).
A particular poignancy, linked to 805 mythology, hovers over his masterful “Just Like a Woman,” reputedly about the tragic tale of Dylan’s alleged one-time belle, Edie “factory girl” Sedgwick, born and bred in Santa Barbara, where she also died at the age of 28.
When it came time to plug in, with a full and full-bodied band in tow, the A/B contrast from acoustic to eclectic modes was powerful, even today. Cat Power is no stranger to the visceral rock impulse herself. Launching vigorously into such rock-infused tunes as “Tell Me, Momma,” the amped-up traditional “Baby, Let Me Follow You Down” (the only non-Dylan composition of the night), “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues,” and “Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat,” we got a renewed, in-person impression of Dylan’s legacy as a proto-punk rager.
Following the hypnotic 12/8 sinkhole of “Ballad of a Thin Man” (“something’s happening here but you don’t know what it is/do you, Mr. Jones?”), Power graciously introduced her bandmates. She also offered some words of solace and solidarity to the rapt crowd — which she had wrapped around her writhing fingers by this point. Citing the angst of the current world, and the fraught presidential election to come, she advised us to “keep your head up, keep your chin up. We have a lot of work coming up. Fight the power!”
Then, for a fitting finale, following the historic playbook of this concert, she/Dylan leapt into “Like a Rolling Stone.” They’re still rolling with the best of ‘em.
