I Shall Be Released

(discostu)

After a long interruption, my Dylan Project continues.

The best description I ever heard of why "The Lord of the Rings" is so enchanting came from some guy who I was working in a cafeteria with, cleaning and bussing trays. I was 14 years old and he was 19, so older and wiser.

Anyway what he said was "it's as if (Tolkien) just went into an attic somewhere and found some old maps."

So too, for Dylan's "I Shall Be Released." It's hard to believe Dylan even wrote this, that it isn't a cover of some traditional jail (or slavery) ballad he found among a collection of old folk song recordings. But as far as I know it's really attributed to Dylan. All the more impressive.

With the jail theme, I can't resist speculating it's no coincidence it was written the same year "Cool Hand Luke" came out: 1967. Cool Hand Luke being one of the greatest movies ever made, though these days people get more excited about the pretty-damn-good "Shawshank Redemption."

(Newman-Luke)
(Robbins-Andy)

Dylan didn't put the song out in any form (there are several) until 1971.

Simplicity, when it's pulled off well, demonstrates the greatest mastery of all.

This song's sweet melody, direct lyrics, and lazy pace combine to create the powerful emotion of a weary person longing to be released.

Above all, that twangy harmony brings in the element of pain.

"Any da-ay now, any wa-ay now."

Because on past 'Dylan Project' songs I've noticed a lot of people come to the page while searching for an interpretation of the lyrics, I'm going to oblige and break down as much as I think I understand (after the "More.")

Just hope y'all ain't high school kids robbing me for an English essay...actually what do I care? Knock yourselves out.

The executive summary: This is a deeply Christian song that operates on two levels: the profane and the sacred. It's about a man in prison / all men (people). He wants physical release / spiritual release. By recognition of his innocence / by absolution of his sins.

In addition to everything else, I have to say I love the way Dylan's frolicky picking hops its way down the guitar until the strumming starts (on the version linked above).



Version II
This version is more mournful.

I Shall Be Released

They say ev'rything can be replaced,
Yet ev'ry distance is not near.
So I remember ev'ry face
Of ev'ry man who put me here.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.

The first words of the first verse are by far the hardest to interpret (and some versions don't use this verse at all, or put it in a different spot).

They say every thing can be replaced = every injustice can be set right, returned to where it was before something went wrong.
Yet every distance is not near = but some things can't be replaced: for instance, time a man has served for a crime he didn't commit.

So I remember every face of every man who put me here: for revenge, at first glance, from a false accuser or a corrupt prosecutor or judge. But on second thought: even if the jailed man is "guilty as charged," then how responsible is he or any criminal is for his actions?
His parents, his external influences _ even the God who gave him free will have conspired against him, in some sense.

I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released

The light is the light of divine justice. At sunset, and on Judgment Day, the light shines from West to East.
The release could mean release from prison or release by death and god's absolution for the things _ criminal or otherwise _ the singer has done wrong.


(massdistraction)

They say ev'ry man must need protection,
They say ev'ry man must fall.
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Some place so high above the wall.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.

This is the first verse on some versions.

Every man must need "protection" = Provided by God or a guard.
Every man must fall = We will all sin, and we will all die. By God's will, or the warden's.

Yet I swear I see my reflection some place so high above this wall.

This is maybe the best line in the song, so multilayered.

On the first level, the wrongly jailed man can daydream of flying free past the walls, or of his spirit at least being freed and rising toward heaven after his death.

On the second level, a guilty jailed man can imagine a reflection, perhaps of a better version of himself that didn't commit the crime _ being free.

But most importantly, man was made in god's image. So guilty or innocent, he will see his reflection in the sky: either way, god made him what he is, and put him behind bars. God will let him go when the test is over.

(maia c)

Standing next to me in this lonely crowd,
Is a man who swears he's not to blame.
All day long I hear him shout so loud,
Crying out that he been framed.
I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.

The man NEXT to the singer claims to be innocent (just like the singer does).
He SWEARS he's not to blame, he's been framed (just like the singer does).

Perhaps this person next to the singer 'doth protest too much' _ his constant complaining may lend credibility or doubt to his cause.

Not like the singer: he really is innocent. Or is he really any different from the person next to him, singing out that he's been framed?

In some versions it's not clear the singer isn't the person in the crowd. Either they're the same person or they're people who are the same.

One has been framed. Both have been framed. Neither has been framed.

But the whole lonely crowd will one day be released.

(shawshank ship)
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A Philosophical Christmas Message from me & Bob

(photo:rogiro)

Fare forward, you who think that you are voyaging;
You are not those who saw the harbour
Receding, or those who will disembark.

(T.S. Eliot)

The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration.

(debora_photo)





(sleepy sparrow)

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

(The end of Little Gidding)

(photo:santimb)


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Positively 4th Street

(photo:forezt)

There are not a lot of songs written about this particular range of emotions _ petty jealousy and retribution. It's a pity, because it feels so good just to let it out sometimes.

Of course there's "Like a Rolling Stone," which is similar to this and a better song, but it's so overplayed (like 'Tambourine Man') that you can't really hear it. So _ No 'Rolling Stone' in my Dylan Project.

Instead, "Positively 4th Street." From 1965, when Dylan was peaking, overflowing.

In my perfect world, you'll be hearing this song, or at least actually listening to the lyrics, for the first time. If so, I hope you're shocked. For me, the contrast between the naked aggression of the words and the frolicking, happy sound of the music is the epitome of irony.

You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinning

Once you hear the song, you realize the title is dripping poisonous sarcasm. It should be 'Negatively 4th Street. The title is also slightly ambiguous: 'Positively 4th Street' can also mean, describing 4th Street to perfection.

There's way too much speculation out there (esp. among baby boomers) about who, what and where this song's arrow is supposed to pierce. The point is, everybody has walked down both sides of 4th Street at one time or another.

The song's on YouTube in a kind of unusual presentation. Enjoy it while it lasts...


Here are the rest of the lyrics, with a few "insider" lines removed:

You got a lotta nerve
To say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on
The side that's winning
...
You see me on the street
You always act surprised
You say, "How are you?" "Good luck"
But you don't mean it

When you know as well as me
You'd rather see me paralyzed
Why don't you just come out once
And scream it

No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I'd rob them

And now I know you're dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don't you understand
It's not my problem

I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you

Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is
To see you

Does a master thief rob heartbreaks to relieve them, out of pity? Or does he do it because he secretly wants to get (back) together with the guy/gal he's 'saving'?

Or does he rob heartbreaks in order to experience them himself?

Maybe Dylan was pissed off that other people made more money of his songs than he did; or maybe he was still bitter that some girl dumped him for another guy while he was busking, and then became very interested in him once he was rich.

Whatever. It's not our problem.

The epithet "master thief," taken out of context, is a description of the essence of Dylan. A plagiarist steals, a genius transforms. Like "House of the Rising Sun." Dylan stole it, but once he touched it everything else became derivative.

So maybe people once upon a time were jealous that Dylan became famous after lifting songs or bits of style from them. But in a certain sense, you can't fault him for anything he did _ his thievery left us with songs like this.

Thanks Bob!

(photo:t-dawg. I don't know these people.)

The epilogue from Barry Lydon, one of my favorite films (adopted from the William Makepeace Thackeray novel):

"It was in the reign of George III that the aforesaid personages lived and quarreled; good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, they are all equal now."

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Tangled Up in Blue - Dylan Project

(photo:thomas_hawk)
Time for an fat update to my Bob Dylan Project that will have people running for the door like crazed jackalopes.

Tangled Up in Blue is among the most accessible of Dylan songs, and combines all the great things about his music that I state in painful detail on My Back Pages (the FAQ for this thingamabob) : poetry, storytelling, great music and great timing.

If I had to recommend one song as an intro to Dylan, this would be it. Why? In short, it has it all, and it was the song that got me hooked.

I still get chills every time I hear the opening low note - high note - strumming pattern that opens the song and repeats throughout.
(clip)
So now let's circle back and have another look.


"Blood on the Tracks" is an outlier as an album, made in 1974, fairly long after Dylan's prime, but to me, emotionally his most powerful and honest work. His "King Lear." I hear he had to be talked into releasing "Idiot Wind," because it was so personal.

Blood on the Tracks has a unified theme, into which all the songs are in-folded: you could call it "the breakup," since that's what it centers around, but it also ends up telling the story of a whole relationship in condensed form. Like Homer's Illliad is just two weeks of a 10-year war, but the whole story gets crammed in.

The bloody heart of the album, the song "Idiot Wind," will absolutely be the topic of another post. But
-Simple Twist of Fate
-You're a Big Girl Now
-You're Going to Make Me Lonesome When You Go
-If You See Her, Say Hello
-Shelter From the Storm
and
-Buckets of Tears

are all great, great songs.

Blood on the Tracks is about Dylan and his wife, Sarah Lownds, apparently at a point in their marriage where it was all but over, but Dylan was still thinking about giving things one more try.
However in this case _ and this is highly unusual for me _ authorial intent isn't that important.

Why?

There comes a certain moment with music you love where you begin to adopt it as part of your self, which is I guess what people mean when they say they "identify with" a character in a story.

For me, the moment I began to absorb Dylan's music into my DNA came in 1996-7 when I heard Blood on the Tracks after I: broke up with a girl, looked her up a year later, and ended up the *loser* in a brief but spectacular love triangle.

The album tells a similar, but different story.

It begins with "Tangled Up in Blue," which again tells the whole story of the relationship, but in slices, like a Picasso or a fractured mirror. The other songs go into some element of the story in greater depth. Call it a "concept" album if you will. "Tangled Up In Blue" is the overture.

the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

The lyrics begin with the storyteller reflecting about the girl, after the end of "part two" of the relationship:

"Early one mornin' the sun was shinin'
I was layin in bed, wonderin if she'd changed at all,
if her hair was still red."

(photo:Imax)

(footnote: my wife, my Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands, has red hair).

The teller begins reminiscing about "part two" of their relationship, before they got married.
"Her folks they said our lives together, sure was going to be rough" & etc. Basically he was a poor boy, had it hard.
"Lord knows I've paid my dues getting through _ tangled up in blue."

One of the other great things about this song to pay attention to is how long Dylan pauses before heading into the refrain, 'tangled up in blue' _ varying exquisitely, with each verse, for maximum effect.

So then the teller launches into the full story, from the beginning of "part one":

"She was married when we first met _ soon to be divorced"
(CLASSIC line!)

(clip)

"Helped her out of a jam I guess, but I used a little too much force.
We drove that car as far as we could, abandoned it out west,
split up on a dark sad night both agreeing it was best
She turned around and looked at me, as I was walking away
I hear her say over my shoulder we'll meet again someday...on the avenue...
tangled up in blue."

So that's the first meeting and breakup.

Then there's a verse describing his travels without her. I think this would stand alone as poetry, no? You have to speak it with a drawl for the rhyme scheme to work...maybe you have to be American to appreciate how well Dylan captures Southern expressions. I alter the spellings from 'proper' English to give the flavor.

(clip)

"I had a job in tha Great Nawth Woods, workin as a cook for a spell
But I never did like it awl that much and one day the axe jus' fell.
So I drifted down to New Orleans
Where I'z lucky 'nuff to be employed
Workin' for a while on a fishin' boat
Right outside of Delacroix.
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind,
I seen a lot of women
But she never 'scaped my mind and I jus' grew
tangled up in blue."

(photo:eyestalk)

Then the story moves to their second meeting, with her working in a topless bar.

Sarah Lownds was a Playboy bunny _ that part of the story doesn't fit my biography obviously, but I understand the jealousy it implies about other men looking at her...

(clip)

"Later on, when the crowd thinned out,
I was just about to do the same,
She was standing there, in back of my chair
Said to me (Jimmy?) don't I know your name
I muttered something underneath my breath
She studied the lines on my face
I must admit, I felt a little uneasy when she bent down...to tie the laces...of my shoes...
Tangled up in blues"

I laughed out loud the first time I heard that line. Now I just love the timing of the delivery.

They go back to her place, and he relates what anybody who has ever fallen in love will recognize as the experience of two minds meeting.

(clip)

"She lit a burner on the stove, and offered me a pipe. 'I thought you'd never say hello,' she said, 'you look like the silent type.'
Then she opened up a book of poems and handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet, from the 13th century."

(I'm guessing Petrarch? Dylan had apparently never read it.)

"And every one of them words rang true and glowed like burnin' coal
pouring off of every page like it was written in my soul
from me to you,
Tangled up in blue."

That also gives me chills.

And now, jump shift to the most confusing verse.

"I lived with them on Montague street in a basement down the stairs
There was music in the cafes at night and revolution in the air"

The easiest explanation is, it's back to phase one, when he helped her out of a jam.
But my gut tells me he's talking about himself in both in the first and third person.

I guess everybody gets the "Romeo and Juliet" reference _ a doomed relationship.

"Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue."

It paints a brief picture of the breakup, anyhow. "When finally the bottom fell out" _ Just wait for Idiot Wind.

And finally, the semi-optimistic ending, which picks back up from the opening line of him lying in bed.

(clip)

"So now I'm goin' back again,
I got to get to her somehow.
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now.
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue."

I can't get the line

"all the people I used to know, they're an illusion to me now
some are mathmeticians, some are carpenters' wives."

Out of my head.

All the people I used to know, including the girl that broke my heart at about the time I got hooked on Dylan, they're an illusion to me now.

And I'm with the right one, the mother of my children.

But the music; ah, it was wallowing in sweet misery for me then, and it's stayed with me until now.
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Tambourine Man

So. This time a highbrow look at the lyrics of one of those Dylan songs that you maybe kind of liked once, before you heard it played too many times.

Maybe you thought the lyrics were some annoying psychedelic BS but the song was okay, at least in the "Byrds" version, and who really cares about song lyrics anyway, right?

Well, I'd say, go ahead and hate "Tambourine Man" for being overplayed, but don't doubt this: the lyrics are getting at something very specific, and I think they're sublime once you understand what it is.

(clip)

Here's my close reading:

Dylan is asking the one who really makes the music _ call him The Tambourine Man, Dionysus, God, or the Muse, whatever you want _ to possess him.

This is a peek into the creative process of someone who is universally acknowledged as a master songwriter. Sometimes you wonder where he got all the ideas: in this song he more or less says he can't really take credit for what it is that he does.

Everyone knows the famous first verse/chorus:

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

This intro is the exact equivalent of the beginning of Homer's Illiad: the invocation to the muse: the "Tambourine Man," (not the 'Sandman' or the 'Pusher Man', as I think many people interpret the lyrics).



Dylan himself is pretty much erased from the picture. His senses are gone, he's so tired he's past sleeping, it's early morning, his fingers barely feel the strings, and he's begging to be released from what remains of his consciousness and just go under the 'dancing spell.'

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.

In Plato's Ion, Socrates drops his famous Q&A for a minute and gives his explanation of how poetry is created. It runs something like this ('Jowett' translation:)

The gift which you possess ... is not an art, but ... an inspiration. There is a divinity moving you, like that contained in the stone which Euripides calls a magnet ... This (magnet) not only attracts iron rings, but also imparts to them a similar power of attracting other rings...all of them derive their power of suspension from the original stone.
In like manner the Muse first of all inspires men herself..For all good poets ... compose their beautiful poems not by art, but because they are inspired and possessed.
And as the Corybantian revellers when they dance are not in their right mind, so the lyric poets are not in their right mind when they are composing their beautiful strains: but when falling under the power of music and metre they are inspired and possessed; like Bacchic maidens who draw milk and honey from the rivers when they are under the influence of Dionysus but not when they are in their right mind. And the soul of the lyric poet does the same, as they themselves say; ... For the poet is a light and winged and holy thing, and there is no invention in him until he has been inspired and is out of his senses ... when he has not attained to this state, he is powerless and is unable to utter his oracles.
In this way, the God would seem to indicate to us ... that these beautiful poems are not ... the work of man, but divine and the work of God; and that the poets are only the interpreters of the Gods by whom they are severally possessed.

Once you've got the idea, the rest of the lyrics fall into place and don't need much interpretation.

Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun,
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind,
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.

Dylan is the ragged clown. He warns the Tambourine Man not to be distracted as the mortal behind him tries to keep pace with the song. But of course, Dylan won't ever quite be able to behold the Muse directly, he has to chase after its shadow, that's as much as humans can comprehend of the divine.

(Chorus)

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Amazing imagery. Dylan will have to sacrifice all that makes him individual in order to experience the rapture.
Once he loses himself "with all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves" he'll be all the way in the creative trance state.

Of course, that means he'll be part of the song, not a performer performing it, but part of the Bacchanal.

After he sleeps maybe a few glimpses of what he saw while dancing with Dionysus on the circus sands will come back to him; that's what's he handed down to us, the next link in Socrates's magnetized chain of rings.

(The photos are of my son, who succumbed totally to Bacchus during our vacation when he was exposed to a techno version of "Bolero" at full volume. It was pretty humorous...).

Full lyrics to "Tambourine Man":

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand,
Vanished from my hand,
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

(chorus)

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.

(chorus)

Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun,
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind,
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.

(chorus)

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

(chorus)

*end*


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House of the Rising Sun

(photo by Flickr user "Naked_Eyes")

The whole first album ("Bob Dylan" 1962) is a kind of supernova, with Dylan announcing himself, absolutely bursting with self-confidence. Cocky and self-aware about how overflowing with talent he is. This album is one of the most obvious in that regard.

It's mostly "cover" songs, but as a lot of people have pointed out, plagiarism is one thing and transformation is something else; the "Master Thief" meme turns up later overtly in Dylan's work. He certainly "knows the (his) song well before (he) starts singing."

Dylan 'borrowed'  some of the style and technique he used on "House of the Rising Sun" from a guy called Dave van Ronk. Once the album came out, Van Ronk couldn't play it anymore without being accused of ripping off Dylan. The punchline: "The Animals" had a number one hit with it two years later ('64) and Dylan couldn't play it anymore without being accused of ripping off the Animals...

On the Scorsese documentary (No Direction Home), Van Ronk relates how Dylan told him in passing that he had gotten a chance to cut a record with a big label: Colombia Records, and decided on the spot to include the song. "Uh, Bobby, I was planning on putting it on my album," Van Ronk answered. Dylan says,  "Oh. Sorry."

I wonder if, but doubt whether (whether/if), Van Ronk is one of the people targeted in "Positively 4th Street."

Anyhow.

This is one of the songs people should hear if they don't think Dylan can (could, in his prime) sing.

The energy, the passion, the youth, the emotion, are overwhelming.

At the same time, there's the occasional flourish on the guitar _ just a pause really _ that reminds you of how alert he's being about the technique, timing and the storytelling, as he pours out the emotion. Control within abandon.

A slow build of suspense to a screaming
climax.



What a song. MORE

Dylan Project - Forever Young

The song "Forever Young," is not a typical Dylan song _ what is? _ but it's a masterpiece.

It was released on "Planet Waves" in 1974, after he was past his prime. That version, although widely played, is not very good.

It's the demo version that I love, and I have no idea when it was recorded. Much earlier, by the sounds of it.

It's obviously one of his most melodic songs.

But the lyrics are the best thing about "Forever Young." It's 'right on target, so direct.' Simple and profound. Nothing weird, abstract or tangential here, I think you'll agree.

In all, the closest comparison with this song in spirit and style would probably be "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go."

It's addressed to a young person, implying an older narrator.

I'm going to post the whole song, and see if it gets me in trouble; my reasoning is, it's hard to get your hands on this version anyway, and anybody reading this will know it's good publicity for Dylan. So listen here.

It's like your grandpa has put his hands on your cheeks, is looking you in the eye, and is giving you all his good will and advice.

"May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true."

Then

"May you always do for others
And let others do for you."

The idea is a riff on 'do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' But in this case, it's a challenge to help make this world a better place. In the end, what more important lesson can a parent teach a child?

"Let others do for you." Accept that 'no man is an island,' and everybody has to ask for help sometimes. Don't be proud.

Next, the song leaps in pitch, paralleling the leap into the poetic sky the words themselves take. John Donne would have prolly would have understood and approved:

"May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung, and
May you stay forever young."

Achieve your dreams, but keep the outlook you had as a child.



The next verse begins with the two wishes,

"May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,"

These are unsettling because we live in a cynical age. We'd be embarrassed to ask somebody to be brave, strong, and true. And 'righteous' _ it has religious overtones. But to a child, these idealistic requests can be made without sarcasm or cynicism. A young person can really be these things, before the world spoils him. I vividly remember Ross McCall standing up to a bully back in Jr. High. Man, it was something to behold.

"May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young."

The final verse has two more pearls:

"May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift."

Indeed. Life is short. Be doing.

"May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung, and
May you stay forever young."

As if a human being, like a chord, could vibrate with joy his entire life. I get chills every time I hear this. And that was before I had any children.

May your song always be sung...


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Dylan Project FAQ - My Back Pages

Langtemps...

I've been meaning to get this personal project off the ground. And when I say personal, I mean: sharing something that has brought me deep private pleasure with others who might not otherwise experience it.

To wit: Bob Dylan's music. I want to inspire others to appreciate how profoundly good it is.

You might think this is a silly idea. Everybody knows Bob Dylan, and what a great artist he is. Praising him is like saying Shakespeare was a good playwright.

Actually, that's not a bad comparison in some ways, and I'll come back to it.

"The remarkable thing about Shakespeare is that he is really very good - in spite of all the people who say he is very good." -Robert Graves.

Dylan is different, in that everybody knows who he is, but there's also an unusually large group of people that think he's terrible and can't stand him. A few people might tell you Shakespeare is boring, or they can't be bothered to watch the plays because the language is too hard to understand. And there's some truth to that, of course. But not many people think he's worthless, since his place at the "white hot center" of the literary canon is undisputed.

Dylan, not so.

I'm not being defensive about liking Dylan's music when I know lots of people don't. The saying "there's no disputing tastes" has an equivalent in every language.
But I suspect many of the people who don't like him have been too quick to judge, perhaps on the basis of his voice, or having heard a couple of the most overplayed songs too often. Given a little push in the right direction, they might turn around and derive the mountains of enjoyment from him that I have.

Moreover, a few of my friends who like some of Dylan's songs don't 'get it,' about why I'm so deeply moved by him, and have asked me to explain or recommend a few good numbers, so that maybe they'll see what I'm talking about.

Well, okay. But just naming a list of my favorite songs isn't going to work.

I 'don't get it' about religion, yoga, psychology, shopping or watching sports. I've tried to appreciate these things a bit on my own, but so far, nothing has stuck.

However, I accept that I'm probably wrong about yoga, on the basis of one of my axioms: anything that lots of people expend lots of energy, thought and time on, must have value.

So what's needed with Dylan is a more thorough introduction, and a guide. Once you get into it, then you start to see the value.

I also used to think business and economics were pretty boring subjects. Then I became a financial reporter, and after I started to see how all the pieces of the clockwork fit together, my viewpoint changed utterly. Now the more I know about the way capitalism works, the more fascinating it becomes. For better or for worse, corporations shape almost everything about the world we live in, and I can no longer imagine my mental landscape without an appreciation and understanding of them.

So I take it that the reason I don't understand religion or appreciate sports is that I simply don't have the right preparation.

Dylan, like some other great musicians, has a high barrier to entry. I don't think this is intentional on his part, incidentally, I think it's just bound up with his character.
I acquired my taste for him the long way around: by rejecting him. I've had similar reactions to other musicians that struck me kind of funny at first but who I eventually came to love: Stephen Sondheim (atonal), the Beastie Boys (nasal) and Mozart (too many notes).

But Dylan came to me in the right moment _ a very specific moment in my life, when I was in deep pain from a bad break up. I started listening to Blood on the Tracks, I suddenly got the hook, and there was no un-hooking.

Dylan's voice can be grating. His lyrics can appear nonsensical, or be nonsensical, or wost of all, lazy and self-indulgent. Certainly not all of his music is very good. Some is bad. Some is very bad. I mostly like his early 60's stuff, with important exceptions.

They said of Shakespeare that he never had to re-write a line. "'Would he had blotted a thousand.'" said Ben Jonson, his rival and friend. But Jonson also called Shakespeare "a monument without a tomb," because despite having "small Latin, and less Greek," he playing a completely different game to some of his competitors, trying to, kick free of the ground. "He was not of an age, but for all time."

"My conceit of his person was never increased ... by his place or honours; but I have and do reverence him ... in that he seemed to me ever by his work one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want." -Ben Jonson.

So, too with Dylan. You have to ignore the 1,000 lines he should have blotted ("the pumps don't work because the vandals took the handles") and his other failings. Actually you may even learn to love his idiosyncrasies.

Shakespeare, too, had weird artistic habits. To name one of many, he would state the most ambiguous things in the plainest monosyllabic English, I guess as a way of laying the contradiction bare. So in Othello, I-ago says "I am not what I am." (NOT: "I am not what I seem").

Dylan has his artistic habits, the weak voice (especially on the high notes) masked by speak-singing, the fading/flattening after each emphasized word "I wAnt yOu...sOh bAd."
The whole "You'll find out when you reach the top, you are on the bottom" idea isn't that clever and it's repeated about a hundred times in different songs..

This just reminds me that Dylan, like Shakespeare, Mozart, or whatever great artist you choose, is only human.

The flaws and failings of people with great talent are so outshone, so dwarfed by the epic, stunning, absolute brilliance of what they do when they're at their best, that it makes us feel magnified in their presence, impotent in their shadow, proud of our race and aware of its limits, all at once.

"Music," says Ben Levine, "is emotion." Shakespeare says music is the highest of the arts because it "it alone is high fantastical," i.e., purely abstract.

That may be true of music, but not so of song, and certainly not so of Dylan. Along with the music, he delivers story, poetry and character, with timing, nuance and subtle variation. Like Shakespeare, he can "sing both high and low." His music is emotion, but not raw emotion. Well-cured emotion.

"I'll know my song well, before I start singing."

-Dylan ("A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall").

My very favorite Shakespearean sonnet ends with the couplet:

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong /
to love that well which thou must leave ere long."

It's about an old couple who will die soon, and know they have to love each other as much as they can now. I've never been in that particular situation, but the poem makes me feel what that's like. Compassion. Metempsychosis. We are all that old couple too, no? Mutatis Mutandis?

So, too with Dylan at his best. He speaks to parts of my life that I've lived, and others that I still have to go through, and quite a few that I probably never will, but though him, I experience nonetheless.

So much for the preface.

The specifics of the project are, I'll post about some of the Dylan songs that I love, and try to explain exactly why, in essays much briefer than this one.

If I can figure out the technical side of things, I'll include as much of the clips or lyrics as I can without infringing copyright.

And I'll hyperlink around from song to song to create a web of Dylan's work _ it's the totality of what's he's done, as much as any one song, that makes me, for lack of better words, respect and admire him.

I called this backgrounder "My Back Pages" for several reasons: first, because the title fits.

It suggests how subjective and bound up with biography this project is. There are so many people out there who know so much more about Dylan, and music, than I do. I'm a "self-ordained professor's tongue," really, just a casual listener. All I have to contribute is my ears, mind, and heart.

As far as the song goes, it's typical of the "good" Dylan, but not great. The lyrics are too recondite. The music shows off some of the jazz-like variation he throws into an otherwise repetitive line (get a copy of the full song and listen to how differently he sings the word that rhymes with "how" each time it occurs).

It appears to be a song of regret over both his youthful certainty about the world, and the loss of it, something that I can definitely identify with.

But I have to admit I'm not sure, which is also why it's an appropriate song to begin with.

Maybe I just need to study the song better in order to get the point. Dylan can be more exact in what he's doing than you're expecting sometimes. "Tambourine Man", (unfortunately way overplayed), is one example of a song whose meaning is absolutely crystal clear, and non-psychedelic. But you have to think about it a little bit to get the message.

Anyhow, once I knew everything. Now that I've unfigured it all out, I reckon there are probably a lot of other people out there who either think they know it all and don't _ or don't realize that what they do know is all there is.

In other words, I'm ready to open up my back pages and make a fool of myself.

The music clip:

"But I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."



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