Dylan raw but formidable

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Mr. Tambourine Man's jingle-jangle morning has faded to raspy-gaspy twilight. Now they've even taken away his guitar.

So, it wasn't surprising that there was a steady trickle of fans who, early on, headed for the exits at Bob Dylan's Friday night concert at the George Mason University Patriot Center. The premature exits became quite noticeable less than halfway through his performance.

Mr. Dylan was, after all, growling his way through mostly new songs that many of them didn't know. And most of the back-catalog numbers were -- as ever -- so rearranged as to be virtually unrecognizable.

Maybe the dearly departing knew what to expect and had just come to pay respects to an old friend. Several of those who bailed out early sounded genuinely shocked at Mr. Dylan's ragged and raw vocals.

Still, the lion's share of the initially full house was still on hand when Mr. Dylan ended his hour-and-45-minute long show with "All Along the Watchtower." Few of the many college-age fans made early departures. Perhaps they had been drawn by the Raconteurs, an excellent opening act that blazed its way through an impressive set. If so, most stuck around to see the legend, and some danced whenever Mr. Dylan's five-piece backing band steamed into a full-tilt boogie.

Even with one vocal chord and lung short, Mr. Dylan was still a formidable musical presence.

Looking like a cross between Slim Whitman and Vincent Price (a man of 65 could do far worse), the Western-attired headliner performed in profile the entire night, planted behind an electric organ. He occasionally blew weakly on his harp, but plucked nary a note of guitar all night.

As usual, Mr. Dylan said nothing the entire show other than to introduce his band members.

To dig the 2006 model Bob Dylan, one obviously must make a major adjustment in vocal expectations. This does not involve lowering the bar so much as it does tossing the bar out the window. Do this, and you can still enjoy his music. Fail to adjust, and you will probably hate it.

The nasal whine that at first grated but gradually grew on us back in the '60s is long gone, having been supplanted by a throaty growl rubbed raw by time. Vocally, Mr. Dylan has traversed into Howlin' Wolf territory.