By Tony Attwood
It is incredibly easy to listen to Dylan songs that one has known for years – decades even – and somehow find oneself tucked into the cosiness of an old favourite which itself brings its own view of life. It’s there, we listen, it means things, it conjures up memories, and maybe we don’t necessarily hear the depth of the meaning, the emotion, the pain and the determination that we used to experience through the song, because it has been with us for so long. It is a song that has become part of us; nothing will ever stop our intimate relationship with this piece of music because, as we know it so very, very well, we’ve stopped listening to it as we once did. It is so familiar that it is hard now to dig deep into the emotions that it once raised within us.
Perhaps this is like meeting a deeply regarded old friend whom one has known for decades, and who has always been there to share a word, offer a thought, be supportive when that is needed, and to whom one would always offer support and help, if that was called for. Someone who can always be relied on to lend a hand in a moment of need and to whom you have returned the favour whenever needed. Not someone you would describe as “someone who will die for you and more,” but someone who will always make time for you, and who, as you fully know, will be there for you if things really get tough. And to whom you would do the same.
That was a question that was recently posed to me by a close friend, and I had to pause to think about it as we discussed the issue. And as I meandered through my thoughts and realised yes, I did have a few friends outside my family who I really would drop everything else to help in their hour of need, the song “Restless Farewell” came back to me. A song that was more than just another of the 500+ Dylan compositions that I have enjoyed. A song, in fact, whose music, lyrics and overall meaning I carry forth, even to today. More than a song; more than another Dylan song. A song that, through its music and its meaning, has held a particular and special place in my life.
In short, I find myself thinking that “Restless Farewell” is, for me, more than a song that I have known and loved for over sixty years. More than a song that has changed my life, for this is a song that can still change my life, if I find the time to listen to it again without distraction.
Which is not to say that I listen to Bob all the time – in fact, I don’t. But then I don’t have to because I have the sort of musical memory which means that even if I have not heard Bob perform a song for quite a few years, I can still remember a lot of it – even down to the details of the arrangement – and sit down and play it in a reasonably acceptable way, on the piano.
However, such an ability does not last forever, and in later life, I am finding that some memories fade. In musical terms, I can still remember the songs, but not every nuance, and so I am on occasion drawn back to Bob’s recordings of songs that I have not heard for a long time, and sometimes they can indeed sound as fresh and enjoyable as they did many, many years ago when I first heard the song.
Of course, sometimes in going back to an old favourite, one can get bogged down in details, and indeed, the very first thing I realised on going back to Bob’s “Restless Farewell” and listening to it with no distractions at all, is that I had consistently remembered some of the words wrong. The fifth line is
But the bottles are done
and yet all this time I had it in my head as “The battles are done”, undoubtedly influenced by the next line “We’ve killed each one”. Quite probably, some people have kindly pointed out my mistake before – quite possibly on this site – but somehow, such corrections, if they have been made, have passed me by. I’m sorry if I ignored you. It’s just that I haven’t come across the phrase “The bottles are done” in England.
Bob only performed the song twice in gigs, which were in May 1964 and May 1998, and we have a video of the first of these. The guitar accompaniment is played in a different time signature from Bob’s singing, which must be really, really hard to get right in performance. In fact, despite my claims to a certain level of musical ability, I’ve tried simultaneously to play and sing it as Bob does in the original recording, but this really cis beyond me. I’m not as good a guitarist as I like to imagine.
So of course, I move on, and find I enjoy the additional Scottish flavour that occasionally finds its way into this recording…
In fact, I find this version rather disturbing because the voice and the guitar are simply not following the same time. I have, since hearing this, worked at performing the song in this way, and of course, it is possible, but my goodness, it is hard work. And I think Bob realises the problems he created most fully when it gets to the instrumental verse, which actually fades out in the recording at the top of this page.
Obviously, I don’t know why, but I wonder if Bob himself finally gave up the struggle of combining the two rhythms. For give up, he did in that the instrumental verse fades out in his original version (above).
Although the result of combining the two time signatures (the song really is in a slow, gentle 4/4 rhythm, quite different to the guitar rhythm in the recording above) is one step too far towards complexity, the fact that Bob tried this out is, I think, really helpful to our understanding of the early days of Bob the composer, as opposed to Bob the songwriter. For it is clear that he self-evidently had a wonderful song with exquisite lyrics, that didn’t actually need one rhythm in the guitar and one in the vocals. Yet having thought of that notion, Bob couldn’t quite let it go. And instead, he let the whole song slip through his hands.
But there is of course, so much more in this wonderful piece, for Bob also gave us a really interesting and unusual rhyming scheme. It’s not unique, but I don’t think anyone ever pulled it off as Bob did. In case you are interested, here it is… and as ever Bob is obviously not using absolute rhymes – “friends” for example doesn’t rhyme with “spend”. But this is a song to be sung, not a poem to be recited, and thus near-rhymes have always been completely acceptable.
A: Oh, all the money that in my whole life I did spendB: Be it mine right or wrongfullyA: I let it slip gladly to friendsB: To tie up the time most forcefullyC: But the bottles are doneC: We’ve killed each oneD: And the table’s full and overflowedE: And the corner signE: Says it’s closing timeD: So I’ll bid farewell and be down the road
Now that rhyme scheme would seem complex in a song written today – but this was back in the 1960s when “You ain’t nothing but a hound dog crying all the time” rhymed with “You ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine,” and no one complained.
Of course, we didn’t comment on the rhyme scheme, because most of us were completely blown away by the song as a totality, and besides which, analysing pop and folk songs was rarely done since, by definition, (according to those who claimed the right to define such things) they were simple. Pop music, after all, came from the blues, and the blues had a set format which pop music inherited: one line of vocals repeated and then answered by the third line. As for the chords, for a song in C major, the song would have C major for the first line, F major returning to C major for the second line (repeating the lyrics of the first line) and then G, F, C (for the third line, rhyming with the first two lines). And that was it.
But back to Bob: what might it be like to hear “Restless Farewell” now for the first time? It is an interesting experiment, requiring (at least on my part) complete attention.
The first time I tried it, it was that ending that moved me, and I really mean moved me. I am sitting at home on the first floor of my house, looking over my garden to three giant trees that stretch way up to the sky, which is utterly blue. There is the slightest movement of leaves as one looks higher and higher; the sky is perfectly blue behind this. And these lines come to me….
But if the arrow is straightAnd the point is slickIt can pierce through dust no matter how thickSo I'll make my standAnd remain as I amAnd bid farewell and not give a damn
And today, for the first time, I think, I don’t hear this as literally bid farewell, in terms of saying goodbye and physically moving on, (which in my old age I am absolutely not going to do in terms of this house which, as I endlessly tell my friends, I was so lucky to find while it was still being built 25 years ago). But rather, I think of the trees and their reaching out to the sky, and how even in older age, rather like Bob (who is a few years older than me), I should continue to explore my thoughts, say what I think, and not be afraid of turning my back on bits of the past I no longer want to be bothered with. Can I, in advanced age, “bid farewell” to anything that has been with me for a long time? Do I want to? For a man in his late 70s, these are challenging questions.
So I have been listening to “Restless Farewell” and asking myself if I would ever want to rid myself of that song. And the answer is no, not because I am beholden unto it, but rather that I will redouble my efforts to be me, to live the life I believe in, to try to stick to the morality which seems to me to be right, to be kind and giving, and not self-centred. And to bid farewell to the past attitudes and approaches to life I have had, and I see others adopt, which no longer seem right for me.
Thus, I have here a song that I have lived with through my entire adult life, and which still influences me today, and for that, I have Bob to thank. Of course, it is not the only gift I have been given – I have three wonderful daughters and ten grandchildren, and I live in this wonderful house with an amazing friend who seems quite able to put up with me no matter what I do. But my way of thinking about the world I find myself in has been shaped by this (and of course other) Dylan songs. And for that, I can only be utterly thankful.
Footnote: This is perhaps the first article of a new series which attempts to examine a single Dylan composition in greater depth than we have before, and also see it from several viewpoints. If you have any suggestions for other songs that might be considered in such depth, or indeed if you would like to write such an article, (or indeed an article on any other subject related to Dylan) please do get in touch. Tony@schools.co.uk