By Robert Eli Cohen
Unquestionably, when asked to cite his most weighty explorations, perorations and extreme flights of fancy, the majority of his aficionados and the professors that have been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books, would cite his lengthiest works. Or alternatively, if not those most protracted in the time it takes to perform them, then those most densely packed lyrically, i.e. “Subterranean Homesick Blues” or “It’s Alright Ma”.
Other well-known examples of Dylan’s extended discursive poetics include “Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands”, “Desolation Row”, “Hard Rain”, “Lily, Rosemary…” or more recently, “Highlands”, “Ain’t Talkin'” or “Murder Most Foul”. In each of these examples, Bob lets loose a torrent of words, plumbing sentiments from glee to grand guignol and back again.
They’re all magnificent from any angle, but what I would like to examine in consideration of Bob’s oeuvre are those songs containing the very fewest words and yet, miraculously, all the more affecting and profound for their relative brevity:
“I’ll Keep it With Mine” totals 146 words and has been covered from its inception by a wide range of artists both contemporaneously and in the intervening years. That the song piqued the interest of other artists may well be due to its elusiveness and the paucity of its details. It is in the spaces between the words, in what in not delineated, in its ambiguity and obscurity, in its opaqueness, that performers and audiences alike can extract a meaning that they choose. Which, as has been said in other times and places, is essential to any work of art, because the work stands only as a starting point and truly exists as a sort of mirror held up to our souls so that, ultimately, what we see is our own essences starkly revealed. Keep WHAT, exactly, with mine?
“I Shall Be Released” totals only 148 words, and yet, it is both intensely moving and has proven to be everlastingly influential in the nearly sixty years since it was composed. Again, artists from every musical genre have determinedly endeavoured to give it new life and extract its recondite lessons. It is haunting, mysterious and, if I may borrow a Maltinism, “searing”. Released? From where, from what? A compact soulful lament and simultaneously a contemplation and condemnation of prisons, real and imagined. Yes, all this and only 148 words in its entirety.
“All Along the Watchtower” clocks in at 130 words! Would this song have simply been regarded merely as a curiosity from Bob’s biblical-themed “John Wesley Harding” had it not been for Jimi Hendrix’ brilliant reimagining? Jimi heard something in those 130 words, heard parables and allegories and glimpses of an approaching apocalypse and gave it voice, powerful, powerful voice, to furnish a blazing soundtrack for the 20th and 21st centuries. Articles and volumes in the years since its creation, and Jimi’s extrapolation, have been composed as authors elbowed each other aside to offer their own exegesis and why, exactly, might that be? We listen to these few words, this spare melody, and remain transfixed, but what can we say definitively it is about? None can say conclusively; only speculate.
“Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” totals, in its original form, (Bob later on, after it morphed into a stadium anthem of sorts, added another verse or two) 103 words. Reflect upon that fact, 103 words that have held artists and audiences enthralled for decades and still, even now, with no signs of a lessening engagement. Yes, in this case of this song, as part of Dylan’s soundtrack for Sam Peckinpah’s “Pat Garret and Billy the Kid”, we do have context. Slim Pickins’ sheriff’s life-force slipping away while the sun is setting means we can easily surmise that the moment portrayed is one we all must eventually reckon with: our time on this plane approaching its end but then, for the generations that have subsequently sung along and been forced to confront inescapable mortality, theirs and all their loved ones, Peckinpah and Pickens may as well be a law firm that will chase an ambulance and if successful, give you perhaps 40% of the settlement. Spare, unblinking, poignant and in the end, simply unforgettable.
“Sign on the Window” totals 129 words, and once again its influence belies the scanty number of lyrics. Mournful, regretful, holding fast to anguish and remorse, the narrator takes us through the looking glass to revisit a relationship that painfully withered and died. After Kooper’s organ and Bob’s piano intertwine in the break, the song returns with a tone replete of acceptance and reconciliation, if not with his erstwhile partner, then with himself and his life as it must be lived as the future replaces the past. Again, as is true in all these previous examples, an astonishing economy of words providing deeply affecting illuminations.
A good article – I especially agree re the wonderful ‘Sign on the Window’ (though I’d include ‘Never Say Godbye’, too). From my own piece, ‘Et in Arcadia Ego’:
On New Morning, with its newly roughened, or re-roughened voice, the most interesting and revealing song – for me – is ‘Sign on the Window’, particularly its closing moments, where a quavering, plaintive yearning struggles to assert a certain certainty. In place of Nashville Skyline’s sweet, rich confidence, we hear a quiet desperation as Dylan aches to convince himself:
Build me a cabin in Utah
Marry me a wife, catch rainbow trout
Have a bunch of kids who call me “pa”
That must be what it’s all about,
That must be what it’s all about
The smiling Nashville Skyline persona cracks or crumples: he’s not smiling – or waving – but drowning. He can’t ‘pretend’ any more – at least, not convincingly. It’s a perfect example of how the voice, the performance can matter so much in Dylan’s work. On the page the words are simple, unadorned, the repetition almost banal, but the poignant fragility of Dylan’s delivery adorns it, lending ironic weight to that repeated refrain, ‘must be’.
Good Article-I would include “As I went out one morning”
Mr. Cohen achieves what few other writers have even attempted. He has captured the essence of a lost art of novelty, re-imagination and choi de vive. His mirth merits a round of applause with an effort of great aplomb. Guide us Mr. Cohen into a worldview of awe.
May your days be riddled with love and laughter.
I’d add One Too Many Mornings to the list. Like it or not, some of us find the epic songs rather musically tedious. “Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again,” and again, and again, and again. I generally prefer the shorter songs because I find them more enjoyable, especially for repeat listening.
Fascinating and welcome article. Like Hank Williams, Dylan has the ability to write deceptively simple lyrics combined with easily singable melodies. The beautiful, moving and I profound “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” is as you suggest a perfect example of this. It is also a feature of many of the songs on “John Wesley Harding” (one of my favourite Dylan albums), including the title track and the romantic and sensual “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight”. He probably took this process to its extreme on “Nashville Skyline” with songs such as “Lay Lady Lay” and “Country Pie” and on many of the enigmatic songs on the Basement Tapes. But, along with Heaven’s Door, the best example may be “Blowing in the Wind”. The poet and artist William Blake has been a major influence on Dylan, and both writers have the ability to write simple, short verses (Blake’s “Songs of Innocence and Experience”) and longer, denser work such as, in Blake’s case, “Marriage of Heaven and Hell” and “Visions of the Daughters of Albion.