Ballad Of A Thin Man (Part 1): Along came Jones

by Jochen Markhorst

Alice has barely descended into the rabbit-hole and has just had her first disruptive experiences, and she already sighs: “I am so very tired of being all alone here!”

That is not the only emotion she shares with poor Mr Jones. Like Alice, and like Kafka’s Josef K. for example, Mr Jones walks around in a world whose mores are completely incomprehensible to him. The actions of the opponents do not make any sense to; the answers to his astonished questions only add to the bewilderment;

And you say, “For what reason?”
And he says, “How?”
And you say, “What does this mean?”

 The dialogue builds a setting tending towards absurdism, a setting which is often used by writers and filmmakers. Sometimes to produce a comic effect (Jacques Tati, for example), but more often to depict oppression; the viewer or reader identifies with the protagonist and sympathizes with the alienation. Apart from Alice In Wonderland and three quarters of Kafka’s oeuvre, we also know it from films such as Antonioni’s Red Desert (1964) and Chaplin’s Modern Times (1936) and, well, even Karl Marx analyses the phenomenon of alienation as an artist’s trap in Das Kapital (1867).

This won’t be the last time Dylan makes use of it either; in half of the songs he writes for John Wesley Harding, two years later, a protagonist is lost in another reality with irrational opponents (“Drifter’s Escape”, especially, but also in “The Ballad Of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest”, “All Along The Watchtower” and “As I Went Out One Morning”). Before that, in the Basement, alienation as a motif of a song does pop up a couple of times, too. “Lo And Behold” has similar disruptive dialogues as Mr. Jones;

“What’s the matter, Molly, dear
What’s the matter with your mound?”
“What’s it to ya, Moby Dick?
This is chicken town!”

 … as “Please Mrs. Henry” gives similar, disruptive props a quasi-significant symbolism (“I’v been sniffin’ too many eggs”), and as “Quinn The Eskimo” describes similar, disruptive action scenes (“feeding pigeons on a limb”). And of course: “Million Dollar Bash”, the irresistible party song in which Thin Man Mr. Jones has a supporting role:

Then along came Jones
Emptied the trash
Ev’rybody went down
To that million dollar bash

 The suspicion that this is the same Mr Jones seems obvious given the source. It is true that “Jones” is not only a very common name in everyday life, but also a popular name in songs. “Casey Jones”, Cab Calloways “Hi-De-Ho” (“Brother Jones lived in sin / He couldn’t stop drinking gin”), the protagonist of Woody Guthrie’s “I Ride An Old Paint” is called Bill Jones, not to mention “Have You Met Miss Jones?”, and so on… the list is endless. But in “Million Dollar Bash” Dylan literally refers to the old novelty-hit of The Coasters, the Leiber & Stoller written “Along Came Jones”. And only in that particular Coasters hit is a physical aspect of the main character described:

And then along came Jones
Tall thin Jones
Slow-walkin' Jones
Slow-talkin' Jones
Along came long, lean, lanky Jones

…of all those Joneses, this is the only one who is also thin… “Along Came Jones” is indeed a Ballad Of A Thin Man.

 

Anyway, alienation. “Ballad Of A Thin Man” is Dylan’s first exploration of this constellation, but right away in a variant that is quite unique; unlike Lewis Carroll and Franz Kafka, and unlike Dylan’s later “alienation songs”, the omniscient narrator here is part of the opposition:

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

The all-knowing storyteller apparently not only knows that “something is happening”, he also suggests that he knows what “is happening”, and worse still, he mocks the helpless Mr Jones for his non-understanding.

It is a remarkable storyteller’s point of view. Kafka’s narrator always remains at a neutral, reporting distance. The raconteur of Alice In Wonderland is on the side of his protagonist, and shares – with the reader – the amazement at the irrational actions, nonsensical dialogues and absurd plot twists. And otherwise at least the audience is aware of what “is happening”; characters like Mr. Bean or monsieur Hulot also walk around like a baffled Mr. Jones, but the audience still does understand what is happening.

This narrator’s position makes “Ballad Of A Thin Man” quite unique. At Kafka, or in stories in which an earthly visitor tries to understand the mores of an extra-terrestrial civilization (Avatar, Planet Of The Apes, The Hitchhiker’s Guide), the storyteller is not the opponent of the reader or viewer. With Dylan he is. The listener has no idea what is happening either, finds it as strange and disruptive as Mr. Jones, but is not initiated by the omniscient narrator.

Both the choice of perspective and the narrator’s meanness tempt to draw a biographical line. At a young age, Dylan often barks at poets such as T.S. Eliot, and in 1978 he expresses this – mainly acted – aversion a little more specifically, explaining his already incomprehensible film Renaldo & Clara:

“Unlike trying to understand Ezra Pound or T.S. Eliot we don’t assume that we know something that you don’t know. We’re not trying to be aloof in the way that I think Pound is.”

… which describes fairly accurately what the narrator of “Ballad Of A Thin Man” does; assuming he knows something that you don’t know – and “aloof” is also a striking characterisation of this narrator. The context, reviling Eliot and Pound, suggests that the identity of Mr. Jones may also be sought in literary circles. The opening lines support this suggestion:

You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand

… the first attribute characterising the man is “a pencil”. The rest of the lyrics confirm that Mr Jones is a civilized, cultured man;

You’ve been with the professors
And they’ve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You’ve been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well read
It’s well known

Furthermore, he is not impecunious (he is expected to donate generously to charity organisations), he is on friendly terms with “lumberjacks” and apparently he has imagination, hardly a reprehensible quality either – although he is attacked exactly thereon – all being hints that Mr. Jones is an arrived, successful poet. Still leaving open what those “lumberjacks” symbolise, though. Admiring reviewers perhaps, or maybe lectors.

In any case, the narrator’s intention, to ridicule Mr Jones, fails. The sympathy of the listener tends towards him, towards the poor dude who really tries to be polite and make heads or tails out of the absurdities he is confronted with. His opponents on the other hand, the geek, the midget, the sword swallower and the narrator, are all rude (“how does it feel to be such a freak?”), insulting (“you’re a cow”) and far from helpful. Petty vindictiveness seems to be an obvious explanation; the antagonists are treated “outside”, in Mr Jones’ world, as they now treat Mr Jones, as some sort of retaliation. Disrespectful, vicious and as if he were the freak.

Dylan’s own explanation of the song, as an announcement at concerts in 1978, does point in that direction as well:

“You know of the carnivals they used to have in the 50’s? You know, the ones that had geeks in them? You know what a geek is? You know what a geek is? A geek’s a man who eats a live chicken. He bites the head off, eats that. Then he eats the rest of it, heart, drinks up all the blood, sweeps up all the feathers with a broom. Anyway, in this particular carnival nobody much did want to get too tight with the geek. Even the low down people did not want to get too near the geek. One day I was having breakfast with the bearded lady, she was telling me this geek was really funky. He thinks everyone else is a little strange, he’s the only one that’s sane. And he thinks everybody else is freaky. I said “uh-hu”. Anyway, years later I was in Nashville, I think it was 1964, walking down the street with Al Kooper. Playing organ for me at the time. And we were walking down the street. We had long hair. In these days nobody in Nashville had long hair. Not Willie Nelson, not Waylon Jennings. Nobody. Anyway, we were walking down the street, buses would stop. Just because we had long hair. Anyway, somewheres along the line I put it all into this particular song.”

…rather prosaic, all in all.

Still, that doesn’t bother fans and Dylanologists, to have their own go at the lyrics – there are many who think to know what is happening.

Richard Hawley – Ballad Of A Thin Man:

This is another piece that has not available in all countries.  Hopefully one of these two sources will work for you.

https://youtu.be/5ST88Ia1Utc

To be continued. Next up: Ballad Of Thin Man part II: Freaks and geeks and simples

———–

Jochen is a regular reviewer of Dylan’s work on Untold. His books are available via Amazon both in paperback and on Kindle:

 

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

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The Hypothetical 2020 Bob Dylan Tour, Part 1

by mr tambourine      (Videos selected by Tony)

Bob was first supposed to have a Japanese Tour in April, from April 1 to April 24. It was cancelled.   Then, there was an American Summer Tour announced from June 4 to July 12. Also cancelled.

But…

What if the pandemic had actually started after July 12, for example in late July/early August, just so Bob could do his tours?

Let’s imagine that.   And let’s also imagine the singles coming out in the same dates along with the album.

Here we go.

March 27, 2020

Bob releases Murder Most Foul, first original song in 8 years, briefly before the tour.

April 1, 2020

Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

https://youtu.be/QA5NrtITOck

  1. Things Have Changed (Bob on guitar)
  2. It Ain’t Me, Babe
  3. Highway 61 Revisited
  4. Simple Twist Of Fate
  5. Can’t Wait
  6. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  7. Honest With Me
  8. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  9. Make You Feel My Love
  10. Pay In Blood
  11. Lenny Bruce
  12. Early Roman Kings
  13. Girl From The North Country
  14. Not Dark Yet
  15. Thunder On The Mountain
  16. Soon After Midnight (following band intros)
  17. Gotta Serve Somebody
  18. Man Of Peace (Bob on guitar) (first performance since 2000)

Encore

  1. Ballad Of A Thin Man (Bob on guitar)
  2. It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry

April 2, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

  1. Things Have Changed (Bob on guitar)
  2. It Ain’t Me, Babe
  3. Highway 61 Revisited
  4. Simple Twist Of Fate
  5. Can’t Wait
  6. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  7. Honest With Me
  8. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  9. Make You Feel My Love
  10. Pay In Blood
  11. Lenny Bruce
  12. Early Roman Kings
  13. Girl From The North Country
  14. Not Dark Yet
  15. Thunder On The Mountain
  16. Soon After Midnight
  17. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Ballad Of A Thin Man (Bob on guitar)
  2. It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry

April 4, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

https://youtu.be/nfY5kesNxsc

  1. Things Have Changed (Bob on guitar)
  2. It Ain’t Me, Babe
  3. Highway 61 Revisited
  4. Simple Twist Of Fate
  5. Can’t Wait
  6. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  7. Honest With Me
  8. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  9. Make You Feel My Love
  10. Pay In Blood
  11. Lenny Bruce
  12. Early Roman Kings
  13. Girl From The North Country
  14. Not Dark Yet
  15. Thunder On The Mountain
  16. Just Like A Woman (Bob on piano, then guitar) (first performance since 2010)
  17. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Ballad Of A Thin Man (Bob on guitar)
  2. It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry

April 5, 2020Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

  1. Things Have Changed (Bob on guitar)
  2. It Ain’t Me Babe
  3. Ballad Of A Thin Man (Bob on guitar then piano)
  4. Simple Twist Of Fate
  5. Can’t Wait
  6. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  7. Honest With Me
  8. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  9. Make You Feel My Love
  10. Pay In Blood
  11. Lenny Bruce
  12. Early Roman Kings
  13. Girl From The North Country
  14. Not Dark Yet
  15. Thunder On The Mountain
  16. Just Like A Woman
  17. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Murder Most Foul (live debut)

April 6, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

  1. Ballad Of A Thin Man
  2. It Ain’t Me, Babe
  3. It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
  4. Simple Twist Of Fate
  5. Can’t Wait
  6. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  7. Honest With Me
  8. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  9. Make You Feel My Love
  10. Pay In Blood
  11. Lenny Bruce
  12. Early Roman Kings
  13. Girl From The North Country
  14. Not Dark Yet
  15. Thunder On The Mountain
  16. Spirit On The Water (tour debut, first performance since 2018)
  17. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Murder Most Foul

April 8, 2020: Osaka, Japan: Zepp Namba

  1. Things Have Changed (Bob on guitar)
  2. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  3. Ballad Of A Thin Man
  4. Can’t Wait
  5. It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
  6. Honest With Me
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Pay In Blood
  9. Lenny Bruce
  10. Early Roman Kings
  11. Girl From The North Country
  12. Not Dark Yet
  13. Just Like A Woman (Bob on guitar)
  14. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Murder Most Foul

April 9, 2020: Osaka, Japan: Zepp Namba

  1. Things Have Changed (Bob on guitar)
  2. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  3. Ballad Of A Thin Man
  4. Can’t Wait
  5. Just Like A Woman
  6. Honest With Me
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Pay In Blood
  9. Lenny Bruce
  10. Early Roman Kings
  11. Girl From The North Country
  12. Not Dark Yet
  13. Soon After Midnight
  14. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Murder Most Foul

April 10, 2020: Osaka, Japan: Zepp Namba

https://youtu.be/12ewncLKo1A

  1. Things Have Changed (Bob on guitar)
  2. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  3. Man Of Peace (Bob on guitar)
  4. Can’t Wait
  5. Just Like A Woman (Bob on guitar)
  6. Honest With Me
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Pay In Blood
  9. Lenny Bruce
  10. Early Roman Kings
  11. Girl From The North Country
  12. Not Dark Yet
  13. Soon After Midnight
  14. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Murder Most Foul

April 14, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp Tokyo

  1. Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues (Bob on guitar) (first singing version since 2014, previously played as an instrumental show closer without Bob in 2019)
  2. Girl From The North Country
  3. Like A Rolling Stone (tour debut)
  4. Things Have Changed
  5. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  6. Honest With Me
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Man Of Peace
  9. Pay In Blood
  10. Lenny Bruce
  11. Early Roman Kings
  12. Not Dark Yet
  13. Just Like A Woman
  14. Gotta Serve Somebody
  15. No Time To Think (live debut)

Encore

  1. Long And Wasted Years (tour debut)
  2. Ballad Of A Thin Man

April 15, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp Tokyo

  1. With God On Our Side (Bob on guitar) (first performance since 1995)
  2. Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues
  3. Girl From The North Country
  4. Things Have Changed
  5. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  6. Lonesome Day Blues (first performance since 2017)
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Pay In Blood
  9. Lenny Bruce
  10. Early Roman Kings
  11. Not Dark Yet
  12. Just Like A Woman
  13. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Long And Wasted Years
  2. Ballad Of A Thin Man

April 17, 2020

Bob releases second single “I Contain Multitudes”, making it the second unreleased song to be released out of the blue. Speculations about the new album begin.

April 17, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

  1. Things Have Changed (Bob on guitar)
  2. Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues (Bob on guitar)
  3. With God On Our Side (Bob on guitar)
  4. Lonesome Day Blues
  5. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  6. Girl From The North Country
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Pay In Blood
  9. Lenny Bruce
  10. Early Roman Kings
  11. Not Dark Yet
  12. Just Like A Woman
  13. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Long And Wasted Years
  2. Ballad Of A Thin Man

April 19, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

https://youtu.be/-S9DD6qhTMk

  1. Things Have Changed
  2. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  3. Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues
  4. Girl From The North Country
  5. Lonesome Day Blues
  6. With God On Our Side
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Man Of Peace
  9. Lenny Bruce
  10. Early Roman Kings
  11. Not Dark Yet
  12. Just Like A Woman
  13. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Long And Wasted Years
  2. Ballad Of A Thin Man

April 20, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

  1. Things Have Changed
  2. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  3. Ballad Of A Thin Man
  4. Girl From The North Country
  5. Lonesome Day Blues
  6. With God On Our Side
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Man Of Peace
  9. I Contain Multitudes (live debut) (Bob introduced it with “this is a new song”!)
  10. Early Roman Kings
  11. Not Dark Yet
  12. Just Like A Woman
  13. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Soon After Midnight
  2. Billy 4 (instrumental) (first performance since 2009, second performance overall) (Bob on guitar then piano)
  3. Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues (instrumental without Bob)

April 21, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

  1. Things Have Changed
  2. When I Paint My Masterpiece
  3. Ballad Of A Thin Man
  4. Girl From The North Country
  5. Lonesome Day Blues
  6. With God On Our Side
  7. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  8. Man Of Peace
  9. I Contain Multitudes
  10. Early Roman Kings
  11. Not Dark Yet
  12. Soon After Midnight
  13. Gotta Serve Somebody

Encore

  1. Just Like A Woman
  2. Billy 4 (Bob on guitar, singing version, new lyrics)

April 24, 2020: Tokyo, Japan: Zepp DiverCity

  1. Ballad Of A Thin Man (Bob on guitar)
  2. I Contain Multitudes
  3. Lonesome Day Blues
  4. Billy 4 (Bob on guitar)
  5. With God On Our Side
  6. Tryin’ To Get To Heaven
  7. Man Of Peace
  8. Girl From The North Country
  9. Early Roman Kings
  10. Not Dark Yet
  11. Just Like A Woman
  12. Gotta Serve Somebody
  13. Long And Wasted Years
  14. Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues (instrumental with Bob on guitar)

Encore

  1. Murder Most Foul

https://youtu.be/l1sdLYUyJmk

 

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

 

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Dylan’s once only file – reaching the end by approaching the border

By Tony Attwood

We’ve covered quite a few songs that Dylan has only performed once on stage, and I am getting to the end of my list.  Not the end of the list of songs that Bob only performed once, but songs in this category for which I can find a decent recording, and (I must admit) where I feel we can take something from the performance.

But if you know of any songs that Dylan has only performed once or twice that we haven’t covered and for which there is a decent recording available, and which you think it is worth bringing to everyone’s attention, please do get in touch.  The email address is at the end.

Dolly Dagger got its only run  through from Dylan on 18 March 1992, at the Perth Entertainment Centre.

It is a Hendrix song, that was played in the 1970 tour and at the Isle of Wight Festival, but was not released as a record until after his death, on the album Rainbow Bridge and as a single, it thus being the last Hendrix to make the charts.

The general view is that this is about Hendrix’ girlfriend who was also having a relationship with Mick Jagger.

Here’s the Hendrix version; the feel is completely different.  For once I am not at all sure that Bob adds anything; the accompaniment to the Hendrix version really does make the song stand out.  And the guitar solo is for me pure Hendrix.  I do hope you have a moment to listen to this.

G Thang

OK this is where I, as an Englishman of a certain age, run into difficulty, because I am not familiar with American slang.  I have seen it described as meaning “good thing” but also seen it mentioned in connection with Aristotle which is, to say the least, unlikely.

We also might recall that Bob played “B-Thang” one night in 1989 so this comes from the same genre.  The recording comes from Park West, Park City, UT on 1 September  1989.

https://youtu.be/HvA28AwIhqU

Million Dollar Bash

At least the provenance of this song is clear – we know Dylan wrote it and we know the only performance was at the Carling Academy, Brixton, on 21 November 2005.

Jochen reminded us in his review of this song that Fairport Convention recorded this, so I can’t let the opportunity pass…

And now we approach the end.

Lady of Carlisle

This is a traditional Cumbrian song which for reasons unknown Bob decided to play at the State Theatre, Sydney on 14 April 1992.

https://youtu.be/i5grYtLP3tQ

I think though I really have to end with Robert Tincher’s version of this traditional song.  Please don’t stop because this is not Dylan – this rendition below helps us understand exactly where Bob was coming from.  And it is an absolutely stunning performance.

If you go to http://roberttincher.reverbnation.com/ you will find some more beautiful performances from Robert.   So this seems a most worthy place to finish, for it is quality performers such as Robert Tincher that have, over the years, kept the traditioinal music alive.  And without hearing this music in his early days Bob would have taken a very different, and I suspect far less interesting, route.

If you have been, thanks for reading.  If you have an idea for another series we could try, or indeed if you would like to write something for Untold Dylan, please do get in touch.

And of course all the other regular series are continuing.

Tony@schools.co.uk

————-

Dylan’s once only file: the concert.   Aaron has created a Youtube file of the songs Bob has played once only and which we have reviewed.

Here are the individual sessions…

—————

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

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All directions 17: “You got something new to tell us Bob?”

By Tony Attwood

This is episode 17 of All Directions at Once.   An index of the articles so far in this series appears here.

In the previous articles I have been looking at the meanings of the songs on John Wesley Harding.   Of the remaining songs in JWH that I’ve not mentioned, four follow the patterns of what has gone before: I am a lonesome hobo concerns individuality, I pity the poor immigrant (in which the immigrant is given a Kafka treatment, lost in an unknown land),  The Wicked Messenger (another absolutely Kafkaesque story), and Dear Landlord (a stream of thoughts piece, following the invention of the title).

And then… the most extraordinary thing happens.  Everything changes.  The arrangements change.  The feelings change.  Just when we had got used to the short songs with incredibly complex or contradictory, challenging meanings, we have two final songs which don’t feel in the slightest as if they belong here.  Two love songs with a country feel, in fact.

It is a bit like having a 12 page wall calendar wherein January to October are each accompanied by a contemporary abstract masterpiece, and then November and December have traditional Christmas scenes of snow, reindeer and Santa Claus.  There’s nothing wrong with snow, reindeer and Santa Claus, but what exactly is their connection with the rest of the calendar?  It feels as if there should be a connection for the sake of unity.  But there is none.

These two final songs were written after everything else – possibly at the recording studio, and were recorded there and then.   Had Bob perhaps not realised that he actually didn’t have enough minutes in the songs that followed the JWH style for a complete LP, and thus was suddenly caught out?  Was he just being deliberately odd having said that he didn’t want to make an album at that time?

Obviously we can’t know, but it is as if one was reading a novel where all sorts of strange unfathomable things happen within a world that doesn’t make any sense at all, and then suddenly the hero opens the front door and steps out into our normal world on a bright and shiny day where there is nothing untoward, no reference is made to the “other world” and that’s it.  The strange world he has been in is still there, but to go to it again he’d have to open the door once more.   But he doesn’t.  He knows it is there, and that’s enough.  We can go back if we wish; he doesn’t want to.

Of course one can argue that these last two songs introduced without any explanation whatsoever are indeed Kafkaesque when taken within the context of everything that has gone before.  For within that context of the LP as a whole they are simply weird.  Imagine a movie in which the Drifter escapes, people walk along the watchtower, etc etc, and then suddenly the film cuts to a beach party, and a couple cuddling up in front of the fire.  What do you make of that?   True, “I’ll be your baby” is a beautiful simple ballad with the twist that he is singing about a one night stand in the way that most performers sing about eternal love.  But “Down along the cove” is an absolutely basic 12 bar blues, which is about being on the beach and not much else.  A perfectly ok song, but in this context…

Just take a fresh look at the lyrics along the cove…

Down along the cove
I spied my true love comin’ my way
Down along the cove
I spied my true love comin’ my way
I say, “Lord, have mercy, mama
It sure is good to see you comin’ today"

Down along the cove
I spied my little bundle of joy
Down along the cove
I spied my little bundle of joy
She said, “Lord, have mercy, honey
I’m so glad you’re my boy!”

Down along the cove
We walked together hand in hand
Down along the cove
We walked together hand in hand.
Ev’rybody watchin’ us go by
Knows we’re in love, yes, and they understand

Indeed I would venture that if that had been an early Dylan song, he might never have got the record contract.

It is interesting to try and get a further perspective of what is going on here by considering just how often Dylan has performed the songs from John Wesley Harding, and indeed the time period over which he performed them.  In doing this we must note the special position of “All Along the Watchtower” because of the popularity gained from the Hendrix recording, and Bob Dylan’s feeling for that re-working – which he subsequently adopted, noting as he did that the original version of a song is not always the best.  Indeed for many, many years it was a fixed part of every Dylan encore.

But perhaps the weirdest fact in all this is that Dylan never once performed the title song from the album.  Not once!  The only other song that got the same treatment is “Lonesome Hobo.  On the other hand, “I’ll be your baby”, one of the two songs out of step with the rest of the album has only been outperformed by the special case of the Watchtower.

In other words the two songs from the album most performed live by Dylan are the song that was utterly re-arranged by Hendrix, and the first of two songs that has no connection with the rest of  the album.

I suspect the explanation is simple: Dylan simply didn’t have enough of the songs he had written in advance, to fill up the album and had to add two more.  But put this together with the fact that the title song has never been performed, and it is all rather… well, I guess the only word I have to offer is “Kafkaesque”.

Here’s the chart of performances of the songs from the album

Song First Performance Last Performance Total performances
Frankie Lee 1987 2000 20
Drifter’s Escape 1992 2005 256
St Augustine 1987 2000 20
All along the watch tower 1974 2018 2268
John Wesley Harding
As I went out one morning 1974 1
I am a lonesome hobo
I pity the poor immigrant 1969 1976 17
Wicked Messenger 1987 2009 125
Dear Landlord 1992 2003 6
I’ll be your baby tonight 1969 2015 444
Down along the cove 1999 2006 83

And a reminder of just how beautiful “I’ll be your baby tonight” is.

And here by contrast is Down along the cove…

And that was it.  Dylan was seen the following year when he performed three songs at the Woody Guthrie memorial concert on 20 January 1968, but otherwise he shut down.

Which is odd really, because 1968 was the time of social uprising when, if Dylan retained any of the thoughts that were expressed in his protest songs, was when we might have expected him to be writing on the subject of the day. The civil rights movement, the assassination of Martin Luther King, the uprising in Northern Ireland, the intensification of the Israeli Palestinian conflict, the anti-war movement, unrest in Poland, the women’s liberation movement…

And Dylan…

… took a year out.

Although he did write one song.  It was meant to be for a movie but even that song was delivered too late, so couldn’t be used.   It was “Lay Lady Lay”.

It is a curious song, in which the key line is (at least in my opinion), “Whatever colors you have in your mind  I’ll show them to you and you’ll see them shine.”

Dylan seems to say, “I can make you see whatever is inside you,” which is a trifle spooky and … (well I dare not say Kafkaesque since I am liable to be shouted out) odd.    And besides, “Stay, lady, stay, stay with your man awhile,” is said with warmth and affection, as is the thought that you can have anything in the world that you want.

It is, to my mind, a lovely song, and enhanced by the fact that musically it is so very unusual, both in the lyrics and the chord sequence that may even be unique in terms of popular music.

Thus this was in no ways “more of the same” in terms of Dylan, although when Dylan returned to songwriting the following year, we had a return to the old favourites of love and lost love.  “Moving on” was not there at all, (if we exclude “Wanted Man” which was written specifically for use by Johnny Cash – and indeed some have even suggested this was a joint composition, so we’ll set that one aside.)

Of course we might also say the “Ballad of Easy Rider” is outside these love related categories too but the credit there says “with input from Bob Dylan”, so he’s not really credited as a co-writer.

And whereas with the John Wesley Harding songs Dylan wrote specifically and precisely for the album, staying in the same style until he found he was two songs short, now we have a return to exploration and experimentation.

Some of the songs that emerged at this time have only become known to us through the Bootleg series (songs such as “Minstrel Boy”) but for the most part this is a reinvented Dylan.

I threw it all away for example is musically very inventive, delicate and very well-performed.  It is Dylan doing lost love to perfection, and the song began a series of six love and lost love songs, ending with Peggy Day – which I described as trivial in my review and coming back to it, I find myself still with that view.  I mean, what else is one to make of lyrics such as

Peggy Day stole my poor heart away
By golly, what more can I say
Love to spend the night with Peggy Day

Dylan is of course fully entitled to do anything he likes, but for me this seems such a waste of such a sublime and supreme talent that gives him the ability to go so much further.   But I guess Dylan wanted simplicity more than anything at this point; and simplicity was what he achieved in writing

All I have is yours
All you see is mine
And I’m glad to hold you in my arms
I’d have you anytime.

In essence it seems like Bob was deliberately trying to set his inner talent and ability to play with words aside.  Consider these opening lines…

I have heard rumors all over town
They say that you're planning to put me down

OK, once again it is a fine song in the “pop” style, but it does not reach to the stratosphere in the way that many of previous Dylan songs did.  In fact it doesn’t do much more than bump along the runway, take off, do one circuit of the aerodrome, and then come in to land.

My take on this is that Bob had shown us that he could write interesting melodies, and (as in this case) stick an extra beat or bar in the music just to catch us out, but the incredible excitement that arose from some of the songs on JWH is simply not there.  They are fine songs, elegantly performed but…

… But of course it was still Dylan, and he could still knock out songs that have that extra something as when he took the 1954 classic “Singing the blues” and turned it into something else.

Dylan performed the song on the Johnny Cash show in June 1969 – although it looks very much like he was miming to a recording made a little time before in the studio.   This is a slightly different version from the Self Portrait album version.

Since you’ve been gone
I’ve been walking around
With my head bowed down to my shoes
I’ve been living the blues
Ev’ry night without you

It is a most curious experiment, including in terms of the chord sequence, and not one that I have ever heard tried in any other song.  Indeed I think one might also say that this isn’t tried elsewhere because… well, musically it just doesn’t quite work.

But the whole song is lilting.  Yes it has the lyrical theme of the blues – the woman has gone – but there is no escaping that it is the blues 1950s pop and country style.  And more to the point, there’s not a single element of Dylan’s early folk roots in this at all either in the lyrics or the melody or the chords.   And then suddenly we get this strange set of chord changes.  It really seems to disrupt the whole piece for no reason, other than to say, “I can still be different if I want.”

So yes, for me it is an experiment.  It didn’t quite work, but it is still for the most part a lovely piece of music.   It was, it seems, intended as a single, but was then dropped for “Lay Lady Lay”, but was preserved on Self Portrait.

And there is the last verse:

If you see me this way
You’d come back and you’d stay
Oh, how could you refuse
I’ve been living the blues
Ev'ry night without you

If I was moved to start believing that Dylan was writing in code (which if you have read the earlier parts of the series you will know I am not) or sending messages to friends and/or family I’d say that might be autobiographical.

It is a perfectly decent song, although that last part of the middle 8 is, for me at least, a trifle annoying.  But still…

But still what I do think this and other songs from around this time say is, Dylan was working, and then working some more, to reinvent himself, and he wasn’t as yet moved to travel in any particular direction.  He had become a crooner of love and lost love songs with simple poppy backing tracks.  And he wanted to show us he could sing – which he most certainly could.

So, to fit this mould, what he wanted was simple songs about everyday life, not mystical songs about “The Drifter” and a watchtower.

A perfectly reasonable desire, and the only problem is that country music, in terms of lyrics and music, is more limited than the sort of music Dylan had been composing in the earlier days.  How could he combine the extra elements that he had incorporated earlier, without going fully overboard, and while retaining some of the extra lyricism of the country music he had found?

Of course we had “Self Portrait” – Dylan’s working and re-working of traditional and more recent folk songs, plus a few of his own compositions.  But it felt like he was letting us see his scrap book rather than telling us anything new.

Indeed the very opening of that album puts us fans firmly in our places.   It opens, if you recall, with “All the tired horses” – a new Dylan song!!! And what do we get.  It’s a new Dylan album with a new Dylan song and Dylan can’t be heard.

As for the lyrics

All the tired horses in the sun
How'm I supposed to get any riding done?

for 3 minutes and 14 seconds.

It was interesting, but not the same as having a “real” Dylan album – an album of new songs from the master songwriter of the late 20th century, travelling, as he had done on each album before, in a new direction.  Or better still, lots of new directions.

Would he write some more?  Would he let us have something really new and different?  Would he take off one more time and travel in a way that we never expected?  Or was that it?  Farewell Bob…

Ultimately the official site gives us the answer…

Watch “Time Passes Slowly”

And this, indeed, is the moment when, I think, Bob did find his new direction.  Beyond the simplicity of (and thus restrictions of) country music, but without returning to the randomness of Kafka or the shadow world of Louise and her bedsit or the anger of “Rolling Stone” or the horror of “Hollis Brown”.

But we still get visions.  It is just they are visions of a different sort.  No watchtower, no princes, just mountain dwellers…

Time passes slowly up here in the mountains
We sit beside bridges and walk beside fountains
Catch the wild fishes that float through the stream
Time passes slowly when you’re lost in a dream

Once I had a sweetheart, she was fine and good-lookin’
We sat in her kitchen while her mama was cookin’
Stared out the window to the stars high above
Time passes slowly when you’re searchin’ for love

Ain’t no reason to go in a wagon to town
Ain’t no reason to go to the fair
Ain’t no reason to go up, ain’t no reason to go down
Ain’t no reason to go anywhere

Time passes slowly up here in the daylight
We stare straight ahead and try so hard to stay right
Like the red rose of summer that blooms in the day
Time passes slowly and fades away

The format of the lyrics is classic pop: verse, verse, “middle 8”, verse, and there is an edge to the lyrics which take them away from the country songs into a different view of life.  A thought perhaps that if we find the right environment we might find happiness and stay there.

But… there is a trap.  For if there “Ain’t no reason to go anywhere” there maybe ain’t no reason to do anything.  This might be an idyll up in the mountains, but then what?  “You got something to tell us Bob?   Some insight?  Some dreadful social injustice to expose?”

“Errr… no.”

But… that middle 8 is, in musical terms, utterly remarkable.  It leaps away from the rest of the song, in a way that means the music contradicts the lyrics.  The lyrics say, “do nothing, there’s no reason to do anything” but the music says, “oh yes there is, oh there most certainly is.”  It leaps about, it is vibrant, it is exciting, it is new, it says, “Oh have I got something new waiting for you…”

I am sorry if that last paragraph sounds like garbage; I am still trying to think how to express myself more clearly.  But that “Ain’t no reason to go” section screams out to me, “there is far more to this than I am telling you”, and in fact that is what New Morning ultimately says.

And in that one moment we had hope that the old, brilliant, wonderful, crazy Bob was still there, and Self Portrait was not a desperate end to a staggering career.

The series continues….

12 years of Untold Dylan

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As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

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Bob Dylan: Fearful Symmetry

 

By Larry Fyffe

Loosely stated:

In his book, “The Great Code”, Canadian Northrop Frye examines the writings of the  Bible from a literary point of view; its language he  considers in and of itself, and discovers that an unrecognized unity lies within this holy book – though language itself has developed in accordance with three supposed cyclical stages of history:

1: mimetic/harmonic – human existence is magically in tune with what is natural; there are no written references as to anything being good or bad.

2: metaphoric/comparative – human existence is semi-detached from what is natural; that which is considered ‘good’, and what is  ‘bad’ is put down in writing.

3: metonymic/associative – human existence becomes alienated from the biblical point of view – life is depicted as demonic, and ironic; it’s full of sorrow, a ‘downer’; moreover, writing itself, ‘the Word’, shatters to pieces.

In “The Great Code”, Northrop Frye presents basically a Romantic vision that seeks a return to the biblical outlook that’s akin to what Ginsberg calls ‘Blakean-light’ mythology.

Upon the waves of Frye’s Jungian Sea, singer/songwriter/musician Bob Dylan launches his Titanic ship of fools laden with poetic lyrics which are accompanied by various types of folk, country, blues, rap, jazz, and rocknroll music – listeners thereto, being passengers on board, choose for themseves which side they are on –  even if it’s the written lyrics thereof upon which they focus.

The song lyrics below lean towards the mimetic/harmonic point of view:

Take me on a trip
Upon your magic swirling ship
My senses have been stripped ....
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it
(Bob Dylan: Mr. Tambourine Man)

The following lyrics lean more toward the metonymic/associative point of view:

Little Richard in a two-storey house
Hey Little Richard, poor Little Richard
Little Richard's gonna climb on out
Hey Little Richard, poor little Richard
Little Richard's gonna climb with me
Hey Little Richard, poor little Richard
Little Richard is fine with me
(Bob Dylan: Hey Little Richard)

The song lyrics below more so:

"Daddy can you hear the angel talk?"
One more year of lollipops, ice-cream cones, and soda pop
One more year of cracker jacks, bubble gum, and sugar smacks
One more year of Daddy's little girl
(Bob Dylan: Daddy's Little Girl ~ Hazel Smith)

Harking back to the country song below:

He spoke of his angel, a dear little girl
He loved every footstep, he loved every curl
But she went to Heaven, just one year ago
The angels came for her, at the first fall of snow
(Molly O'Day: At the First Fall Of Snow ~ Lorene Rose)

The three language phases overlap; the following song lends itself to a metaphoric/comparative point of view – the narrator therein apparently stays away a little too long from his girlfriend who’s not with him in Mississippi:

Well I got here following the southern star
I crossed that river just to be where you are
Only thing I did wrong
Stayed in Mississippi a day too long
(Bob Dylan: Mississippi)

There’s a hidden comparative unity that can be perceived in the earlier song below in which the narrator thereof gets killed by a falling tree before he has a chance to return home to his gal (in the Bible, Moses dies before he makes it to the Promised Land):

Little Rosie, your hair grow long
'Cause I'm going to see your daddy when I get home
There ain't but one thing that I done wrong
I stayed in Mississippi just a day too long
(Rosie:~ traditional)

In the song lyrics given beneath, there’s a mirror image mythology – the narrator’s gal tells him to go home, that he  shouldn’t be where he does not belong:

Well, I sat down by her side, and for a while I tried
To make that girl my wife
She gave me her best advice, and she said
"Go home, and lead a quiet life"
Well, I been to the East, and I been to the West
And I been out where the black winds roar
Somehow though, I never did get that far
With the girl from the Red River Shore
(Bob Dylan: Red River Shore)

And there be those among us who dare say that Bob Dylan’s song lyrics make no sense!

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

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Most Of The Time (1989) Part II – I don’t even think about him

Most Of The Time Part 1: Except sometimes appears here.

by Jochen Markhorst

 

Part II – I don’t even think about him

Just as the lyrics did not come out of a magical Nothing, the music did not come out of thin air either. Quite on the contrary even: blood, sweat and tears.

The success of the album Oh Mercy is of course mainly due to the many beautiful songs, but a not unimportant part of the glory may also go to master producer Daniel Lanois, who has put a lot of love into “Most Of The Time”, too. More than Dylan, anyway. The bard effortlessly acknowledges this in his autobiography Chronicles, and at the same time we regain insight into the almost mystical respect that the man has for The Song – regardless of whether it is someone else’s or his own song.

“It didn’t have a melody,” Dylan writes, and “I never did come up with any definite melody, only generic chords, but Dan thought he heard something.” He then describes how he allows Lanois to have his way with the song, who then turns it into a slow, melancholic song. Hours later Dylan sees: “We worked it to a standstill. Dan would have to be a shaman to make this work. The song, which seemed unfinished to begin with, had just become more unfinished as we rolled on. […]. The lyrics were so full of cloudy meaning and there was nothing in the song that was transforming itself.” Discouraged, Dylan drops out. “I didn’t need this. It’s not like I despised the song, I just didn’t have the will to work on it.”

Dylan’s self-analysis is stuck in incomprehension and despondency, but it is not that complex to trace the source of Dylan’s unease. Actually, the autobiographer himself already gives the explanation, the paragraph before, when he introduces his recollections with regard to the recording of “Most Of The Time”:

“It seemed to have more to do about time itself than it did with me. I felt that the sound of a clock like Big Ben should be ticking right through the tune at various levels. A big-band treatment would have been okay, too. In my mind I was beginning to hear me singing the song with the Johnny Otis Orchestra.”

…so apparently he already has an atmosphere, and probably a hint of a melody, in mind – and that clashes with what Lanois is now making of it.

Dylan’s feeling is hard to follow, though. The Johnny Otis Orchestra? The Godfather Of Rhythm and Blues (or blues and rhythm, as Otis himself says) with this lyrics? “Most of the time / I’m clear focused all around” is hard to imagine laid down on a bed à la “Harlem Nocturne”, “Cupid Boogie” or “Rockin’ Blues.”  Let alone on “Willie And The Hand Jive”.

No, Dylan probably thinks of Johnny Otis’ version of “Stardust” via the Hoagy Carmichael detour, of Johnny Otis as the accompanist of Little Esther, with slow, melancholic songs like “Lost In A Dream” and “Double Crossing Blues” – or “Far Away Christmas Blues”, the soaring Christmas blues he plays in Episode 34 (“Christmas & New Year’s”) of his radio show.

 

Songs, anyway, where Johnny Otis indeed does sound more like a big-band. With a sound and a colour coming close to Sinatra’s Wee Small Hours, or rather: close to the Nelson Riddle Orchestra. Which is also the orchestra that, arguably, produces the most beautiful versions of “I Get Along Without You Very Well” (Sinatra in 1955 and Linda Ronstadt in 1986, the last recording of Nelson Riddle, who dies halfway through the recording of Ronstadt’s For Sentimental Reasons). Arrangements and an orchestra, in any case, that one can hear effortlessly under “Most Of The Time”.

Although… the Dylan of 2020 might have gone for the approach of the ultimate version, Chet Baker’s:

The two versions released on The Bootleg Series Vol. 8: Tell Tale Signs (2008) wonderfully illustrate how much Dylan is looking for a melody and how Lanois turns the song to his liking. The first version is almost cheerful, is spiced up with a jittery harmonica and Dylan jumps high and low in search of a melody – and then eventually ending up more or less with “Little Sadie” (Self Portrait, 1970). Hours later (version #2) Lanois has slowed down the pace, removed the peaks out of the melody and laid down most – of many – guitar layers. By then we are already close to the final version, which will be put together without Dylan.

The producer feels perfectly well what the song needs. The basis is the soggy, swampy Louisiana sound. The drummer avoids cymbals and hi-hat, the snare drum is muffled, the bass is limited to long, languid dragging notes, though he is allowed to play the riff in between – just to prevent blasting horns or splashing guitars, for example, from bringing any brightness. On top of that, Lanois then, like eight years later in “Not Dark Yet”, lays a carpet of guitars, in which at most his own metal Dobro-guitar may provide lugubrious, somewhat shiny accents.

Whatever else Dylan thinks of it, the result is wonderful. Lanois does acknowledge the emotion, the suffering of the narrator – bizarrely enough in contrast to Dylan himself, who tells he suspects more of a philosophical message (“It seemed to have more to do about time itself than it did with me”).

In that first version we hear a protagonist who actually seems mainly relieved that he is over his former lover. The final version, however, tells the true story with exactly the same words: the ex-lover is still deep, deep under his skin and the abandoned lover is still heart broken. All of a sudden the song gains the moving power of the reversal of a Lost Love song’s normal pattern (“Heartbreak Hotel”, “Yesterday”, “Nothing Compares 2 U”), in which the singer makes a point of his loss in every single line. The “I” in “Most Of The Time”, on the other hand, spells out line after line how he does not miss her at all… well: most of the time anyway. So: Hoagy Carmichael’s reversal, though even more subtle than in “I Get Along Without You Very Well” – in Dylan’s case, the listener really doubts whether he is already almost over her, or whether he is trying to wear away his distressing grief with self-deception.

Lanois’ arrangement provides the answer; that scar is there, and it won’t go away.

Few artists venture into this song. And for those few, things usually go wrong – apparently everything has to be right for an interpretation of “Most Of The Time”.

Lloyd Cole is a gifted artist, but seems to have no idea what he’s singing (on Cleaning Out The Ashtrays, 2009), Bettye LaVette is a veteran who can’t really do anything wrong, but still overshoots the mark here (on the otherwise successful tribute project Chimes Of Freedom: The Songs Of Bob Dylan, 2012), and like that, there are quite a few more misses.

In the end, the few direct hits are scored, as usual, by ladies.

The irresistible Mary Lee Kortes, known in Dylan circles for performing as Mary Lee’s Corvette Blood On The Tracks integrally and rather brilliantly, sings a heartbreakingly sober and empathetic version, only with guitar, for BBC Scotland.

More polished, but certainly no less moving is Sophie Zelmani.

The Swedish songwriter contributes her version of the song to the soundtrack of the Dylan-vehicle Masked And Anonymous (2003) and here everything falls into place. Zelmani is heartbreaking as she tries to hang on, her breaking voice is mercilessly mixed far up front, the accompaniment is melancholy and messy and creeping slowly over the singer. She can then afford one faux-pass – apparently Sophie finds it scary to appear homosexual, so she becomes he, her becomes him. And that is more important than the rhyme: “I can survive, I can endure / And I don’t even think about him.” Heresy.

Tough lady Mary Lee can’t be bothered with such petty concerns, fortunately.

————–

Jochen is a regular reviewer of Dylan’s work on Untold. His books are available via Amazon both in paperback and on Kindle:

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

 

 

 

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NET, 1994, part 1. In Full Voice; Absolutely vintage Dylan

by Michael Johnson

‘He can do it in Las Vegas
And he can do it here…’

Part 1 – Absolutely vintage Dylan

Just as, when we moved from 1992 to 1993 we noticed an all round improvement in the performances, from the overall sound of the band to Dylan’s voice, so when we move from 1993 to 1994 we find a further improvement.

More like a quantum leap.

For my money, 1994 and 1995 are the golden years of the NET, at least as far as the nineties go. In retrospect we can see that from 1991 to 1993 Dylan was struggling. 1993 was a year of great exploration, with Dylan extending himself in every direction, pushing his still emerging voice, his harmonica playing, and pushing his lead guitar playing to its limits, pushing his songs into extended epics.

In 1994 and 1995 Dylan brings it all back home. The arrangements bed down, the band sounds more cohesive than ever, Mr Guitar Man pulls his horns in a little and integrates his sound better, and, above all, Dylan’s voice floats free from whatever it was that turned it strained and scratchy around 1991. His voice develops a softer edge to go with the acoustic orientation of his arrangements, what I have called his enhanced acoustic sound.

With that high clear voice, which gets even better as we move into 1995, he sounds more like the Dylan of old; Dylan of the 1960s. Of course he can roughen his voice up when he wants to, just as he always could, even back in the sixties.

1994 was the year that saw Dylan re-emerge into prominence. On the 17th and 19th of November Dylan appeared on the MTV Unplugged television series, and the album of that concert was released in 1995 to some acclaim. We’ll hear, however, a few outtakes from that session.

On August 14 1994 Dylan performed at Woodstock for a nostalgia concert, celebrating the original and famous 1969 Woodstock festival – which Dylan did not attend. That concert has been available on You Tube for some time, and was finally released, too belatedly I feel, in 2016. His performances at this concert were very well received and served to restore his legend somewhat.

Finally, most strangely of all, he took part in The Great Musical Experience in Japan (May 20/21) fronting a full orchestra, a concert also filmed for television.

At first I thought that the superior sound that Dylan achieved in 1994 was owing to the commercial TV recordings, and to some extent that is so, but once we leave the professional recordings for the audience recorded shows we find the same thing.

In 1994 Dylan was right in the middle of his nineties dry period as far as song writing is concerned. His last album, Under the Red Sky, is three years behind him, and the great burst of creativity that produced Time Out of Mind is still three years ahead. But that does not result in any lack of passion or creativity as far as his performances are concerned. Quite the opposite. He pours all that power and passion into reconceiving his earlier songs, particularly that body of work from the 1960s that had made him famous in the first place. Those vintage years.

We can put aside all that brave talk of breaking free from the Bob Dylan mythos and creating a new Bob Dylan. Why bother when the old Bob Dylan is as close at hand as the check shirt he wore in 1965, and pulled out again for Unplugged in 1994. Wow! He sounds and looks just like the old Dylan.

I’m dedicating this and the next blog or two to those core sixties years, and invite you all along on a somewhat nostalgic ride through some of the greatest songs of the 20th Century, 1994 style.

Because it’s such a rich, relaxed sound, I’ll start with that gentle blues from 1965, ‘It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry’. I commented on this song in my last post (See NET, 1993, part 5) and invite my readers to compare this performance with that 1993 performance. There’s no sense of stress or strain here; the band relaxes into the rocking beat, everything fits and all runs smooth as oil.

It takes a lot to laugh

That’s from the Woodstock concert. This next is from Prague (July 16th), a brilliant, lucid performance of Dylan’s great sixties epic Desolation Row. He’s learned how to build the song, create tension and drive with his percussive, acoustic guitar sound.

It is highly unlikely that anybody reading this has never heard Desolation Row, but if that’s the case, you are in for a treat. Desolation Row is a state of mind, a symbol, a place where everybody is in disguise as somebody famous, and strange and frightening events take place. It is a crazy-house reflection of a life that lies beyond the boundaries of what passes for our normal world. It’s a circus world, and sane people might be advised to stay clear in case the doorknob breaks…

Desolation Row (A)

Note the echo in Dylan’s voice, maybe an accident of the recording but makes for interesting listening. It clips along at a fair pace too, avoiding any drag, always possible with a long song like this. Note also that thin, wiry harp break at the beginning to cue us into the song.

Another masterly performance!

Desolation Row (B)

And while on the subject of famous compositions, you won’t find much better than this ‘Mr Tambourine Man’. I know of no other song that so powerfully expresses our desire to get away from the mad world, the world of ‘crazy sorrow’ and ‘to dance beneath the diamond skies/with one hand waving free’.

By slowing the song right down Dylan can make a meal out of those incomparable lines. Yet it doesn’t turn into a ten-minute epic as it might have in 1993, but fits well into just over six minutes, a beautifully balanced performance.

 Mr Tambourine Man

‘Ballad of a Thin Man’ is given the full epic treatment here. Like most of the songs in this post, ‘Thin Man’ is a regular. Listening to this full rock treatment, it strikes me that few live performances of the song evoke the spookiness of the album version, and tend to be more angry than eerie, like this one. Still, it hasn’t lost any of its nightmarish quality. If you’ve ever found yourself in the wrong place and in the wrong company, you’ll know what this is about. Best also if you’re not too homophobic, or phobic about alternative sexualities, because there is something strange going on in this ‘room’ and you really don’t know what it is.

Ballad of a thin Man

Dylan’s lineup remains the same as the previous two years: Dylan and John Jackson on main guitars, Tony Garnier on bass, Wilson Watson on drums and Bucky Baxter on slide guitar and dobro. For the Unplugged concerts, Dylan added the organist Brendan O’Brien. Together the organ and slide guitar create an ‘orchestral’ effect, a richness of sound we haven’t heard on the NET so far.

You can hear that richness of sound on this wonderful performance of ‘I Want You’ (1966). A nice bouncy little number off Blonde on Blonde, it becomes here a sumptuous hymn to desire, and the way Dylan’s voice lifts against the swell of the backing is sheer delight. Slowing the song way down brings out the hidden grandeur of the song’s chord progression.

I want you

That’s an MTV Unplugged outtake as is this next one, ‘With God on Our Side’, a protest song that leans towards a fatalistic view of history. The backing sounds much like the official Unplugged but I like the way Dylan builds the vocal on this one. A fraction slower than even the slow official performance, the song becomes even more dirgelike, a dreary, sorrow-filled encounter with American history.

With God on our side

We have watched ‘One Too Many Mornings’ develop over the last few years into a compelling nostalgic ballad. Keeping its acoustic roots, Dylan captures the agony and passion of the electric sets in 1966. With a wonderful climactic harp break, this has to come close to a ‘best ever’ performance (Boston, Oct 8).

One too Many mornings

‘Masters of War’ must surely be Dylan’s least ambiguous protest song. Aimed at the heart of the war machine, the arms manufacturers, the song takes no prisoners. After all these years, the song is still pertinent. Somewhere along the way it has moved from strident to sinister, from outraged to threatening. These 1994 performances might be surpassed next year, in 1995, but they can still send a chill up the spine, especially with the echo Dylan gets on this one.

Masters of War

Over the last few years we have watched ‘She Belongs to Me’ grow quietly into this lazy tempo paean to the femme fatale, a woman too narcissistic and egotistical for comfort. The lazy beat, however, soon turns into a driving blues with a jazz-filled harp break and Mr Guitar Man adding a pounding edge to the song. Yet another candidate for best ever performance – at least until we get to 2013. (08/20/94)

She belongs to me

Previously, I have written that ‘Tears of Rage’ is one of Dylan’s most mysterious songs. The key to understanding it may lie in discovering who the narrator is, who is singing? I don’t know, but the song seems to lament the betrayal of the promise of America, and the consequent sense of alienation. That alienation is a response to the rank materialism of money-mad ethics.

‘And now the heart is filled with gold
As if it was a purse
But oh, what kind of love is this
Which goes from bad to worse?’

As always, love is sacrificed on the altar of materialism.

I love the original, basement tapes version but probably only because I heard it first. It’s a great song, and this is another vintage Dylan performance. The ease with which his voice can soar is a real pleasure.

At first I thought this was another acoustic performance, but realized Dylan is playing his Stratocaster, only softly, in a sensitive muted fashion.

Tears of Rage.

No song better evokes Dylan’s glory years and his relationship with Joan Baez than ‘Mama You Been On My Mind’. I’m generally wary of biographical interpretations of Dylan songs, since Dylan loves to create personas or masks, but this song invites such interpretations, particularly as he and Baez would often sing duet. The frisson between the two of them onstage told its own story.

And yet it’s a song that makes more sense sung with one voice, although the presence of the other, the one addressed, is very strong. If you’ve ever broken a relationship or let one slip away and later found it preying on your mind, this is the song for you, and this is a particularly poignant, lonely sounding performance. The piercing harp solo, reminiscent of Dylan’s 1989 style, puts an edge of pain into it. Yet another incomparable performance (October 2 1994)

Mama you’ve been on my mind

That’s it for openers. I think you’ll agree with me that with performances of this quality, the NET is catching fire. I’ll be back shortly with another round of absolutely vintage Dylan performances from 1994.

Kia Ora.

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Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, and Myth, Truth, and Anger

This article by Christopher John Stephens first appeared on the website popmatters.

How we begin to understand the way Dylan, Guthrie, and the senseless Christmas Eve death of 73 men, women, and children at an Italian Hall in Calumet, Michigan are connected will probably depend on what we want to believe. The disaster, memorialized 28 years later by folk legend Woody Guthrie in the song “1913 Massacre”, followed the topical ballad tradition of both passively reporting on a news event and definitively taking sides. Which side are you on? The whole wide world is watching.

Such lines are mantras in a topical folk ballad. We bear witness in order to be those who remain standing to tell the story, 28 years later or a century after the fact. Guthrie’s song, recorded and released in 1941 for Mose Asch’s Folkways label, was a cornerstone in the enormous burst of activity from the singer. He would spend the ’40s building his legacy. By the end of the decade, facing diagnoses as varied as alcoholism, schizophrenia, and eventually (by 1952) the degenerative Huntington’s disease, Guthrie would fade from the spotlight and live the rest of his life in a series of psychiatric hospitals.

It’s within the context of what is commonly known — the rise and fall of Guthrie as a rambling tramp folk singer who brought “This Land Is Your Land” into the public consciousness and ushered in the folk revival of the late ’50s and early ’60s — that Daniel Wolff’s remarkable story unfolds. From its start, Grown-Up Anger: The Connected Mysteries of Bob Dylan, Woody Guthrie, and the Calumet Massacre of 1913 is about searching for direction, about starting to understand where to start. Wolff lays it out with his first five words: “I was thirteen and angry.”

 

That’s a possible starting point, but he doesn’t stay there. Like the best folk singers hopping off and on railroad cars destination anywhere, he knows there are options. We can start by talking about the geology of the copper mines in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. We can start with anthropology and understand that Native Americans were mining the area 7,000 years ago. We can also start with economics, corporate malfeasance, the greed barons of Boston’s elite coming into Michigan and pushing capitalism at the expense of humanity.

Wolff understands that there are many options, but he knows anger is the most effective means to contextualize not only the factual connective tissue of young Dylan’s 19 January 1961 visit with Woody Guthrie at New Jersey’s Greystone Park Psychiatric Hospital, but the righteous anger that fuelled the greatest folk songs. At 13, in 1965, a young Daniel Wolff found history boring. It was the angry sound of Dylan’s voice that floored him.

“Like A Rolling Stone” was anything but a folk song; loud, a melodious buzzsaw organ riff at its backbone, pistol-shot drum beats, and that voice which just three years earlier had been the standard-bearer of the earnest folk persona. Dylan had the look (unwashed face, tousled hair, plain and unassuming work shirt, dirty fingernails), the topical themes (about the assassination of civil rights leader Medgar Evers, about a pending apocalypse, about warmongers), and both the knowledge of and respect for tradition. With that as the foundation, for Wolff and so many others, “Like A Rolling Stone” was overwhelming: “The song amounted to a long, rich, unstoppable rant that kept rising in its intensity, as if whatever had pissed him off… wouldn’t quite die, needed another cut of the blade-and another.”

For a 13-year-old Wolff, and anybody else who heard that song in 1965, the anger was righteous and a perfect headlight for the proverbial ship, if you will, that so many adolescents have navigated through the dark waters of childhood. What’s on the other side? “I remember being told it was kind of cute how much I cared about rock and roll,” Wolff continues, and he embraces it. Obsessions are meant to be parsed through and exhaustively analyzed, and a music obsessive personalizes everything. Wolff notes that while it was easy to trace the roots of Guthrie in the way Dylan packaged himself, there were also major differences. Dylan coveted Guthrie’s earnestness, his ability to self-mythologize, his tendency to hide in what might now be termed “alternative facts”, but that’s where the connection ended. Guthrie had no repressed rock ‘n’ roll anger. Dylan may have been a folk acolyte who expertly absorbed (and perhaps shamelessly took) influences as his won, but he was as much a brother of the flamboyant Little Richard as he was a son of Guthrie.

Grown-Up Anger carefully unfolds like the layers of an onion. Jump to the end of the book, and Wolff goes back to Michigan and provides an image inside the earth: “…we plant our crops, bury our dead. This crust floats on… the earth’s mantle: a huge rocky shell… and inside the world’s shell is a molten core, a kind of rage.” It’s as simple as that. Anger is what begins and ends this book, but after it’s introduced Wolff gives us a picture of the author on the ’70s, searching for folk music clues through Guthrie’s son Arlo and his 1972 album Hobo’s Lullaby. It featured some originals, a popular cover of Steve Goodman’s “City of New Orleans”, and a cover of Guthrie’s “1913 Massacre”.

“The tune had this deep, understated sadness, but I didn’t understand why this massacre happened. Were the kids killed on purpose? And if it was murder-a mass murder, then — to what end? It had something to do, apparently, with greed and money.”

That has to be the point to great topical ballads, their primary mission statement. They’re journalistic in nature. They’re long, detailed accounts answering every identifiable question, but the singer aims towards something higher, a more profound truth. Dylan’s first original song “Song to Woody” took its melody from “1913 Massacre”, another strain of connective tissue between the young upstart and the folk legend. What constitutes originality is not so much absolute ownership of words and music so much as how ideas are adapted. How do themes mutate and transform from one generation to another?

In the driving direction of his narrative, like a train that makes no stops and understands exactly where it’s going, Wolff implicitly makes it clear that a necessary component of understanding folk music is a willingness to investigate the roots of song topics. As a social historian and critic whose mission is to bring disparate strands together in order to help us all make sense of what might seem chaotic, Wolff also understands that these songs aren’t primary source material. Were the 73 people killed in the Christmas Eve 1913 Italian Hall fire victims of corporate capitalist malfeasance, or could it simply be that the exits malfunctioned? Was the function hall poorly constructed?

Grown-Up Anger succeeds on many levels; as an examination of the self-mythologizing Guthrie, as yet another spotlight on how Hibbing, Minnesota’s Bobby Zimmerman escaped his past to reinvent himself as a lonesome hobo drifter only to maintain strong elements of the folk ethos throughout his career, and as a primer on the labor activists from pre-WWI America through the ’50s. The connections are hardly difficult to find. Ella Reeve “Mother” Bloor, the legendary American Activist and grandmother to actor Will Geer’s wife (Geer later best known as the grandfather in the 1970’s TV show The Waltons) was introduced to Guthrie in 1937. She tells the singer about Calumet, which (as Wolff puts it) “…will help Woody Guthrie understand who he is and what he wants.” For Daniel Wolff, the difficult and complex task of identifying these multiple strands of events and people is part of the job. That he does it so flawlessly and in such a compelling manner is what makes Grown-Up Anger so impressive.

At 57, Guthrie slipped through to the other side. By the time of his death, it can be argued that the last wave of mainstream popularity his brand of topical and sing along folk music conclusively died in July 1965 as well. That’s when his primary acolyte, Dylan, plugged in his electric guitar and fully embraced a rock ‘n’ roll persona. Most observers will take that as fact and just move on, but the truth is a little more complex. Dylan would perform with The Band at special memorial concerts for Guthrie in February 1968, singing rock versions of “I Ain’t Got No Home” and “Dear Mrs. Roosevelt”. He would appear in a 1988 PBS special tribute to Guthrie and Leadbelly, “Folkways: A Vision Shared”, singing “Pretty Boy Floyd”, Guthrie’s romanticized tribute to a bank robber as Robin Hood.

There are other tender, traditional Guthrie covers Dylan has performed on TV, including a 2009 performance of “Do Re Mi” featuring Van Dyke Parks on piano and Dylan on guitar used in the Howard Zinn A People’s History documentary. Like A Rolling Stone (1965) might seem to have been the death knell to the earnest folk music tradition, but that sensibility has never been far from Dylan’s mission.

The Labor Movement, so volatile and potentially revolutionary in pre-WWI America and forced underground during WWII, cut into strands of Communism, Socialism, and general anarchy. There are no more Mother Bloor or Mother Jones characters. We can’t help thinking that such events like Calumet could happen again. The misplaced anger of the managers and bosses towards workers whose spirit they’ll use to the last drop has manifested itself in outsourcing jobs, union-busting corporations like Wal-Mart, and the dead-end service industry. For Mother Bloor, “…the deaths were a deliberate act, a mass murder. Opponents of the strike… had been threatening to shut down the party. That’s who shouted ‘Fire!’ and that’s who held the exit doors shot from the outside.”

The only vestiges that remain after the deaths of the singers, labor leaders, and martyrs are the songs. Wolff knows that. He also knows that misdirected anger can be deadly. Grown-Up Anger, on the other hand, can create a masterpiece. Guthrie knew that with “1913 Massacre”, and Dylan’s sole live performance of it on 4 November 1961 at Carnegie Chapter Hall, was a faithful recreation of the original. The angry topical songs remain to tell the story. The masterful way Wolff approaches “Like a Rolling Stone” again reminds us that the labels “folk” or “protest” are not constrained by the framework of just one acoustic guitar, voice, and harmonica:

“This isn’t about labor history; the song has nothing to do with labor history. But the piano’s quick boogie-woogie shake is pissed at one class of people doing and the other just riding along, observing… this golden age, this prosperous status quo-has taken everything from you it could…”

Wolff’s Grown-Up Anger: The Connected Mysteries of Bob Dylan, Woody Guthrie, and the Calumet Massacre of 1913 is an essential addition to our ongoing and necessary fascination with American folk heroes, justice, and the many ways of telling and understanding the truth.

12 years of Untold Dylan

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As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

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Bob Dylan Passes On The Bet (Part Il)

by Larry Fyffe

This article continues from Bob Dylan Passes On The Bet

Having read the Holy Bible, singer/songwriter Bob Dylan learns the creative trick of leaving gaps in a narrative, and/or changing a previous source story around somewhat:

According to the Gospel of Luke, Jesus eats a passover meal of lamb before He’s betrayed and then supposedly crucified:

Then came the day of unleavened bread
When the passover must be killed .....
And when the hour was come, He sat down
And the twelve apostles with Him
(Luke 22: 7,14)

Things ain’t looking so good, but hold on to your horses – in the song lyrics following, the narrator Jesus has a trick up his sleeve:

"There must be some way out of here", said the joker to the thief
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, ploughmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth"
(Bob Dylan: All Along The Watchtower)

Holy Smoke, Batman – according to legend, Jesus gets His chance to escape – a Libyan takes His place on the cross:

And as they lead Him away
They laid hold upon one Simon, a Cyrenian
Coming out of the country
And on him they laid the cross
That he might bear it after Jesus
(Luke 23: 26)

Filling in the gaps, it’s pretty clear that the narrator in the song lyrics below travels to Libya to check out if the Jesus is living there (according to Christian Gnostics, Christ’s an immortal, and can only appear to die); Simon the Cyrenian, of course, would be long dead and gone regardless of how the Libyan comes to die:

Don't try to change me
I been in this thing too long
There's nothing you can say or do
To make me think I'm wrong
Well, I'm going off to Libya
There's a guy I gotta see
He's been living there three years now
In an oil refinery
(Bob Dylan: I Got My Mind Made Up)

However, a Gnostic-influenced biblical writer springs a surprise. According to the Gospel of John, Jesus has a ‘last supper’, but it’s not the passover feast because that meal is yet to come. Christ symbolically hangs around as the human sacrificial Lamb of God (the Libyan guy is not mentioned):

Now before the feast of the passover when Jesus knew
That His hour was come that He should depart
Out of this world unto the Father, having loved His own which were in the world
He loved them to the end
And supper being ended, the devil put into the heart
Of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray Him
(John 13: 1, 2)

There’s nothing the supposed writer of the Gospel of John can do that the narrator in the following song can’t do – he’s second to no one when it comes to revising stories:

I'm gonna make you play the piano like Leon Russell
Like Liberace, like St. John the Apostle
I'll play every number that I can play
I'll see you maybe on Judgment Day
(Bob Dylan: My Own Version Of You)

In yet another revision of the vision, a light bulb flashes above the head of the narrator in the song lyrics below – Jesus, the drifter, gets away – perhaps with the help of Zeus, the Thunder God – before He’s to be crucified:

"Oh, stop that cursed jury"
Said the attendant to the nurse
"The trial was bad enough
But this is ten times worse"
Just then a bolt of lightning
Struck the courthouse out of shape
And while everybody knelt to pray
The drifter did escape
(Bob Dylan: Drifter's Escape)

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12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

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All Directions at once: all the world’s a stage

By Tony Attwood

This is episode 16 of All Directions at Once.   An index of the articles so far in this series appears here.

Jochen has already provided us with the clue to “All along the watchtower” in an earlier article on this site, and yes, once more we are with Kafka.  This time  Der Aufbruch (“The Departure”).  Another work unpublished in his lifetime; another work which undermines our normal sense of reality.  I’ll go with this as the thinking behind the song, because it follows on so naturally from the two songs already recorded for the JWH album and because this extrapolation, needs no convoluted reasoning.

Indeed it is the fact that we can use the same explanation for the origin of Dylan’s lyrics in several songs here, that in my view adds credence to this explanation. Instead of having to say “in this song x refers to Bob’s manager and y to his wife,” we have a constant.  He had been reading Kafka and he liked what he read.

Here is Kafka…

I ordered my horse to be brought from the stables. The servant did not understand me. So I went to the stables myself, saddled my horse, and mounted. In the distance I heard the sound of a trumpet, and I asked the servant what it meant. He knew nothing and had heard nothing. At the gate he stopped me and asked: “Where is the master going?” “I don’t know,” I said, “just away from here, just away from here. Away from here, nothing else, it’s the only way I can reach my destination.” “So you know your destination?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied, “I’ve just told you. Away-from-here — that’s my destination.”

And here is… well, you know who this is….

As I have written at some length about the opening two songs in the John Wesley Harding recording sessions about the Kafka link, and as this fits again here, I won’t labour the point.

I am instead left pondering one question: “Why do so many writers on the subject of Dylan think Dylan writes in code.  When he converted to Christianity in 1979 he didn’t write in code.  When he wrote “Masters of War” he wasn’t writing in code.  Why did he suddenly adopt a code, in an album he said he wasn’t really wanting to make.

And why do songs have to be about real people anyway?   Of course they might be, but it is not obligatory.  Lots of love songs aren’t.  “Like a Rolling Stone” is no more of a song if it is about one real person, nor any less of a song if it is about a fictitious person.  So why should we believe Dylan was writing in code at this point?  What did he want to hide?  If he had a message why not come out and say it?  Was he playing games with fans, was he trying to be enigmatic?  Or was he, as so many other times across the years, finding a source which he enjoyed, and using it as the basis of his inspiration?

I can of course accept that sometimes he clearly writes what he feels, sometimes in colourful and engaging, even frightening language.  Sometimes he is simply abstract – the equivalent of the abstract painter but using words.  And maybe there are a few songs in code, just for the hell of it.  But not nearly so many as some “Dylanologists” like to think. Not even 10% of the songs.   Dylanology, in short, is not a science, because most Dylanologists don’t consider all the evidence – just the bit that suits them.

But back to the album.  So far on 6 November in the recording session Dylan has initially given us two Kafkaesque songs, and now in song three we find the influence of Kafka once more seems to be the main and most obvious explanation rather than any other hidden meaning…

“There must be some way out of here,” said the joker to the thief
“There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth”

OK, we have a joker and a thief.  The joker is talking, and the opening line suggests the two of them are trapped.  The joker is suggesting he’s the only one who knows what his world is all about.

The thief replies…

“No reason to get excited,” the thief, he kindly spoke
“There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late”

… and he tells the joker that life is a joke.  Which is a bit odd, coming out of the blue like that.  But, he suggests, we’re pretty much in this together.  We don’t have to work out the meanings – especially if life really is a joke.

I am always reminded here of, “All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players”.  Not just because of its power and elegance, nor because Shakespeare, like Dylan, loved to borrow texts from earlier writers – that most famous of Shakespearian lines coming from Juvenal, the 1st/2nd century poet from the early days of the Roman Empire who in Satire 3 wrote “All of Greece is a stage, and every Greek’s an actor.”   Incidentally I’d say that was still true, which is why I do love Greece.

But then… to show it is a joke, it is as if none of the previous verses happened because in verse three we leap into somewhere else with absolutely no connection with the earlier verses.  It reads a bit like an epilogue – life goes on, no matter what.  It’s just life and life only.

All the world’s a stage…  Life is but a joke … they are not that far removed from each other.

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to how

This third verse really does have nothing to do with the first two verses – unless we perceive it as “All the world’s a stage”  to say that life goes on, this is what we see .  There is a world in which the thief and joker exist, and there is a world in which the watchtower exists.  There is no particular connection between them which is revealed yet they are part of the same song.  It doesn’t bother me that you can’t go “all along” a watchtower.  You can go along the ramparts, but the tower sits there as the place from which to look out.  Does it matter in the overall scope of the song?  Not to me.

And once more there is an awful lot of Kafka here.  Being trapped, a joker and a thief, confusion, being told to not get excited when no one is getting excited, and meanwhile in another reality there is the watchtower which one can go all along….

But maybe Dylan had just seen Ascending and Descending by M. C. Escher first printed in March 1960, and maybe he enjoyed it.  It is hard to get the full impact of what is going on in the small reproduction below – but if you do want to consider this further try this video

“What I’m trying to do now is not use too many words,” Dylan says, according to Wikipedia, in an interview in 1968, “There’s no line that you can stick your finger through, there’s no hole in any of the stanzas. There’s no blank filler. Each line has something.”

And there we are, “Each line has something”.  It doesn’t have to be connected to another line.  It just has to be something.   And quite honestly I think he does that “something” rather well.

Equally Dylan could have said, there is no source and no point of reference.  There’s the book of Isaiah, and in the book of Isaiah (20 and 21) there are a few images to be found (the barefoot servant, a few horsemen, a lion and a watchtower).  Maybe Bob had been at the Old Testament again. But if so, it was probably just to think of using a barefoot servant, a few horsemen, a lion and a watchtower.  And if we note the Bible should we not also note as a source Kafka once more.  Jochen got there before me, and I’ll follow him on this one…  Take for example Der Aufbruch (“The Departure”)…

I ordered my horse to be brought from the stables. The servant did not understand me. So I went to the stables myself, saddled my horse, and mounted. In the distance I heard the sound of a trumpet, and I asked the servant what it meant. He knew nothing and had heard nothing. At the gate he stopped me and asked: “Where is the master going?” “I don’t know,” I said, “just away from here, just away from here. Away from here, nothing else, it’s the only way I can reach my destination.” “So you know your destination?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied, “I’ve just told you. Away-from-here — that’s my destination.”

As ever with Kafka, no one quite understands.  The master orders his servant to saddle his horse, but the servant fails to understand. The master hears a trumpet sound, which his servant does not hear.  But “there must be some way out of here.”

So Dylan, Isiah and Kafka all chatting with each other.  Now that really would be a party to attend.

What is the more likely: that Dylan is trying to get away from his record company deal and so wrote this song in a way that no one could ever be quite sure as to its meaning, or Dylan is again using Kafka to create a piece of music that sounds great and is incredibly enigmatic?  I’d say that the former reduces the work to nothingness but is an approach beloved by conspiracy theorists.  You make a record which attacks your record company?   Why bother?  Why not go and shout at them for a while?  Why not record silence?  Or a single note?

Dave Van Ronk, argued that,  “After a while, Dylan discovered that he could get away with anything – he was Bob Dylan and people would take whatever he wrote on faith. So he could do something like All Along the Watchtower” which is simply a mistake from the title on down: a watchtower is not a road or a wall, and you can’t go along it.”

And I suppose Mr Van Ronk would also consider Kafkas work “a mistake”.

Or it is perhaps an abstract painting…  Whatever it is, it is one of Dylan’s most enduring songs, even though reinterpretation, once Hendrix designed a version that Dylan thought better than his own, is now quite tough.  Although, as I hope the first video in this article, might suggest otherwise.

And now, moving on, we had John Wesley Harding himself – which apparently Dylan once described as a “silly little song”.

Not the right spelling to be the actual JWH of history – who seemingly claimed to have killed many more people than he actually did.  Dylan has stated that he chose John Wesley Hardin for his protagonist over other badmen because his name “[fits] in the tempo” of the song.  Pure chance, nothing to see here.  That sounds likely.

Those who know such things assert that two takes were made of the song, both were considered to be ok, and then one was chosen.  That was that and we had another song of three verses each of four lines.  But unlike the Watchtower, few people ever quote anything from this song.   The song goes nowhere, and has no enigma.  It just is.  Dylan’s seemingly never played it in a gig, which perhaps says something.  Besides, “He was never known to make a foolish move,” sounds a bit like the Lone Ranger of radio, books and TV fame.

 As I Went out one Morning again has a link to voices from the past – in my original review I singled out WH Auden as well as Tom Paine the revolutionary.   Certainly the layout of the poem and its structure means that while not changing a single word, WH Auden’s “As I walked out one evening” can be sung to Dylan’s melody and accompaniment.  My money is on Dylan knowing Auden, and using the same structure and almost the same opening line…

As I walked out one evening, 
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement, 
Were fields of harvest wheat.
And down by the brimming river, 
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway: 
‘Love has no ending.

In Dylan’s version we don’t know who the lady is, who this Tom Paine is, or indeed what’s going on.  It is like a snapshot you found at the back of a photo album with no information about who these people are, where the picture was taken, what was going on or when it was.  There it is, make of it what you will.

Simple songs, each with a clear source, and mostly beguiling and sometime intriguing words.  What is this album about? Just that.

The series continues…

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

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Most Of The Time Part 1: Except sometimes

by Jochen Markhorst

Part I: Except Sometimes

Ian Fleming thinks he’s a beautiful man, in any case. Already in his first Bond story, Casino Royale (1953), he compares his famous hero with Hoagy Carmichael through the fatal double agent Vesper Lynd;

“He is very good-looking. He reminds me rather of Hoagy Carmichael, but there is something cold and ruthless in his . . .”

The sentence was never finished. Suddenly a few feet away the entire plate-glass window shivered into confetti.

 And two years later, in the third James Bond novel Moonraker, Fleming still finds it an appropriate way to describe the physical attraction of MI5’s most famous employee:

“But he was certainly good-looking. (Gala Brand automatically reached into her bag for her vanity case. She examined herself in the little mirror and dabbed at her nose with a powder puff.) Rather like Hoagy Carmichael in a way. That black hair falling down over the right eyebrow. Much the same bones. But there was something a bit cruel in the mouth, and the eyes were cold.”

Hoagland Howard Carmichael must have been flattered, but also had to swallow that repeated observation cold, ruthless and cruel. Glamour photos of Carmichael, however, do confirm it; one would indeed be inclined to give him a license to kill. But in the 14 films in which he plays, he usually has insignificant supporting roles (the best known as pianist Cricket in To Have And Have Not, with Bogart and Bacall, 1944, and as nightclub owner in The Best Years Of Our Lives, 1946).

Still, glamour photos and film roles are just the outside part and sideshows, smoke and mirrors. Above all, Hoagy Carmichael is an exceptionally gifted song composer, has created immortal masterpieces (“Lazy River”, “Georgia On My Mind”, “Skylark”) and is also admired by radio broadcaster Dylan:

“He was also one of our greatest songwriters. He wrote “Stardust” in 1927, which some people say is the most recorded American song ever written.”  (Episode 28, Sleep, announcing “Two Sleepy People”)

In episode 52 (Young and Old) Dylan goes even further. He plays Hot Lips Pages’ version of Carmichael’s “Small Fry” from 1938, and then muses on Hoagy:

“In 1936, Hoagy went to Hollywood, where, he said, the rainbow hits the ground for composers. One of the most famous songs Hoagy ever wrote, was “Stardust”. And like many songwriters, he wasn’t sure where it really came from. This is what he had to say, the first time he ever heard a recording of “Stardust”: “And then it happened, this queer sensation that this melody was bigger than me. Maybe I hadn’t written it at all. The recollection of how, when and where it all happened became vague as the lingering strains hung in the rafters of the studio. I wanted to shout back at it, Maybe I didn’t write you, but I found you.” Hoagy Carmichael on “Stardust”. I know just what he meant.

Dylan’s recognition of Carmichael’s words is sincere. Through the years Dylan expresses in similar terms the almost mystical creation of songs, especially of the Very Great Songs. Such as about “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” in the 2004 Rolling Stone interview:

“All those early songs were almost magically written. Ah… ‘Darkness at the break of noon, shadows even the silver spoon, a handmade blade, the child’s balloon…’ Well, try to sit down and write something like that. There’s a magic to that, and it’s not Siegfried and Roy kind of magic, you know? It’s a different kind of a penetrating magic.

And in 2020, he is still amazed, in the New York Times interview, about “I Contain Multitudes” (“It’s one of those where you write it on instinct. Kind of in a trance state”).

Thanks to the Basement Tapes Complete, the listener occasionally witnesses such a magical event – in “I’m Not There” and “Sign On The Cross”, for example, astonishing songs that Dylan indeed seems to pluck from the air, while recording them. Music and Dylan connoisseur Garth Hudson, who, as a band member and recording director down there in the Basement, has an unrivalled view of this process, confirms that impression.

In the moving Rolling Stone documentary (November 2014), in which he visits the Big Pink again for the first time in almost fifty years, the old Hudson slowly shuffles around, sits musing at the piano and shares his memories, including about “Sign On The Cross”:

“Bob didn’t like to sing the same song over and over again. Sounds to me like he did make up songs on the spot. (…). I think “Sign On The Cross” was done in real time. Both the composition and the execution thereof.”

But that’s not how it goes with one of Dylan’s most beautiful songs from the 80’s, one of the highlights on his umpteenth come-back album Oh Mercy: “Most Of The Time”.

The lyrics are written well before the music, and they certainly do not twirl down to the earthly receiver from some sort of transcendental, poetic seventh heaven. The line to one of Hoagy Carmichael’s most beautiful songs, and one of the most beautiful love songs of the twentieth century at all, is easily drawn: “I Get Along Without You Very Well” from 1938.

“I Get Along Without You Very Well” is an exceptional song with an equally unusual genesis. Carmichael wrote the song as early as 1938, but it will be some time before the public will hear it on the radio. This has everything to do with Hoagy’s ethics; it does take some time before he has tracked down the author of the original lyrics, one Jane Brown Thompson. And he does not want to release the song without her consent. In the end he engages an old friend, popular radio commentator Walter Winchell, who is willing to help him. On Sunday 27 November 1938 Winchell makes his first appeal:

Attention, poets and songwriters!
Hoagy Carmichael, whose songs you love, has a new positive hit — but he cannot have it published. Not until the person who inspired the words communicates with him and agrees to become his collaborator… I hope that person is a listener now.

Winchell then mentions a few hits by Hoagy Carmichael, quotes from the poem in question, “Except Sometimes”, and concludes by issuing a call: “If you wrote those lines in a poem, tell your Uncle Walter, who will tell his Uncle Hoagy, and you may become famous.”

About a month later, after repeated calls, it is successful: two former employees of the now disbanded magazine Life (another, not the long-established journal of the same name, the world-renowned Life) trace the now 71-year-old widow in a nursing home. She signs a contract (promising her “3¢ a copy on the ditty”) but she will not experience the success of the song; Mrs. Brown-Thompson dies a month later.

Jane Brown (not yet married) writes the beautiful poem “Except Sometimes” in 1924. It is published in this magazine Life, but without her name; the poem is attributed to “JB”.

I get along without you very well,
Of course I do.
Except sometimes when soft rain falls,
And dripping off the trees recalls
How you and I stood deep in mist
One day far in the woods, and kissed.
But now I get along without you – well,
Of course I do.

… is the first verse (of the two). An acquaintance of Carmichael does see music in it and passes it on to Hoagy. It ends up in a drawer, but somewhere at the end of the thirties the songwriter happens to see it again. This time it inspires him, and the poem text ends up almost word-for-word in the final song:

I get along without you very well,
Of course I do,
Except when soft rains fall
And drip from leaves, then I recall
The thrill of being sheltered in your arms.
Of course, I do.
But I get along without you very well.

Both equally heartbreaking, elegant and melancholic. Not because of the theme heartbreak itself, obviously, but because of its elaboration – the transparent, despondent denial of heartbreak.

It is an irresistible approach and it is gratefully copied in variants. Jay Lerner writes “I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face” for My Fair Lady (1956), “but I shall never take her back”, “I’m Not In Love”, the world hit for 10cc in 1975, House Of Love’s “I Don’t Know Why I Love You” (1989, with the put-down that even Dylan might envy: “I don’t know why I love you / your face is a foreign fruit”)… songs in which the protagonist against his better judgement tries to tell himself that he does not miss her, does not love her, never does think about her… most of the time, anyway.

 

To be continued. Next up: Most Of The Time part II – “I don’t even think about him”

 

Jochen is a regular reviewer of Dylan’s work on Untold. His books are available via Amazon both in paperback and on Kindle:

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

 

 

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Hey little Richard: the earliest Dylan song of which we have a copy.

Text by Tony Attwood; research by Aaron Galbraith.

The song “Hey Little Richard” is listed in Heylin’s “Revolution in the Air” but it has only just popped up on You Tube – and my thanks as ever to Aaron for spotting it.

The song is listed by Heylin as the third Dylan composition of all time.  The first is “Song to Brigit,” which is included on the basis that Dylan mentioned it in 1961 as the “first song I ever wrote” (although he might have been stringing the interviewer along). The second was “Big Black Train” which had one verse published in Isis, and was put down by Heylin in his book as 1957/8.  That was apparently co-written with Monte Edwardson who was at school with Dylan.

Both of these are lost, if they actually did exist, so this is the first song of Dylan’s of which a recording exists.  According to Leroy Hoikkala, Dylan would “hear a song and make up his own version of it.  He did a lot of copying, but he also did a lot of writing of his own.  He would sit down and make up a song and play it a couple of times and then forget it.  I don’t know if he ever put any of them down on paper.”

However it appears that this recording was played on a BBC documentary about Dylan and “Highway 61 Revisited” in 1995, which gives it some credence of it being Dylan.

By way of review I am not sure much can be added – it is, as they say, what it is.   But it probably is Bob, playing around and having a bit of fun.   After that came “When I got troubles” which until now has been the first Dylan song on our chronological list.

Of course we have no evidence to suggest anything other than this is Dylan doing his stuff, and it is good enough for the BBC to accept it, it is good enough for us.  One more Dylan song for the chronology.

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

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Four more Bob Dylan official videos: Blood, Not Dark, Wonder Boys, Gods and Generals

By Aaron Galbraith

Dylan’s promotional videos – the story so far

It’s been a while but I didn’t forget about the next batch of official music videos! So here we go, let’s start this selection off with the Dave Stewart directed Blood In My Eyes video.

I think this is a beautiful video and one of the best from Dylan. I remember in the late 90s shortly before a trip to London to visit friends I did a bit of research and found the cafe, streets and bridges used in the clip (FYI, it’s in Camden Town). On a quiet day on my own I went out there and walked the same route he did. I sat in the cafe in the chair I was sure he used, I don’t think the painting was there, I think it had been sold by then but that’s a nice memory which makes this little video mean quite a bit to me, personally.

(There is a lot more about this video and Dylan’s activities in relation to the cover of the album in The art work for Dylan’s “World Gone Wrong”)

Next up, from the Time Out Of Mind album it’s Not Dark Yet.

(Note from Tony in the UK – at the moment the video that Aaron has provided is not showing on my screen, so I’ve found a link that is working.  Aaron – please shout if I have got the wrong video!!!)

A fairly straightforward performance video switching effectively between black and white and full colour shots. Some really great lighting used in the video and some very unconventional angles. I’m not sure it adds a whole lot to the song but I like it nonetheless.

Last up this time is two videos for songs used in movie soundtracks.

Things Have Changed from Wonder Boys

 

And lastly, ‘Cross The Green Mountain from Gods & Generals.

 

Both videos are really great in my opinion. One thing it’s clear for movie songs is that Bob likes to insert himself (and band) into the action and make it look like he is in the movie. Some fantastic work on both of these and it really does look like they are in the movie.

The costumes for the Cross The Green Mountain clip are exceptional. I remember going to an early screening of that movie and the director was there for a question and answer session after the movie finished and they showed this video. Another great memory for me. I wish I’d asked him about the Dylan video!

I vaguely remember seeing the Band Of The Hand video back in the day and have a memory (which admittedly could be flawed) of Dylan inserting himself into that movie also. I’m sure it did used to be on YouTube but it is no longer available to view. If any reader out there can point us to a viewable copy of the video online , I’d love to hear from you so I can find out if my memory serves we well.

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

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Bob Dylan Passes On The Bet 

by Larry Fyffe

As previously noted, the New Testament has Christ and his disciples celebrate  the ”Passover’ meal before He’s crucified:

Now the feast of the unleavened bread drew nigh
Which is called the Passover ....
Now when the hour was come
He sat down, and the twelve apostles with Him

(Luke 22: 1,14)

The story changes in the Gospel of St. John; Jesus has an ordinary supper; then waits a while to be served up as the metaphorical “Lamb of God” at the Passover meal after He’s crucified:

Now before the feast of the Passover
When Jesus knew that his hour has come
That He should depart out of the world unto the Father
Having loved His own which were in the world
He loved them unto the end
(John 13:1)

As well, it might be construed that in Luke’s version there’s still a chance for Jesus to escape after the week-long “Festival of Unleavened Bread” is over:

The festival was over, and the boys were all planning for a fall
The cabaret was quiet except for the drilling in the wall ....
Then he walked up to a stranger, and asked him with a grin
"Could you tell me, friend, what time the show begins?"
Then he moved into the corner, face down like the Jack Of Hearts
(Bob Dylan: Lily, Rosemary, And The Jack Of Hearts)

It’s really mixed-up confusion – akin to the shooting to death of Jack Kennedy who has an affair with “Lilli” Marlene Dietrich; his mother’s named Rose:

They killed him once, and they killed him twice
Killed him like a human sacrifice
The day they killed him, someone said to me, "Son
The day of the AntiChrist has just begun"
(Bob Dylan: Murder Most Foul)

The New Testament assures doubters that, unlike the later fate of President Kennedy, Jesus literally comes back to life, and what’s more, the Passover meal is transformed from being a celebration of the Hebrew’s escape from Egypt into a rather Gothic ritual:

Then Jesus said unto them
"Verily, Verily,  I say unto you
Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man
And drink His blood
Ye shall have no life in you"

(John 6:53)

Taking on a Christian viewpoint to a degree is one thing, but contemplating such an ugly thought is quite another if you’re from a firm Jewish background:

Never could learn to drink that blood
And call it wine
Never could learn to hold you, love
And call you mine
(Bob Dylan: Tight Connection To My Heart)

Likewise, as also mentioned before, the Christian dogma of ‘original sin’ is a hard card to play:

Temptation's not an easy thing, Adam given the devil reig
Because he sinned I got no choice, it run in my vein
Well, I'm pressing on; yes, I'm pressing on; well, I'm pressing on 
To the higher calling of my Lord
 (Bob Dylan: Pressing On)

In any event – at least in the spiritual sense – be he Jack or be he Jesus, the drifter escapes death.

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

 

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All Directions at once: Kafka says hello; everyone looks the other way.

This is episode 15 of All Directions at Once.   An index of the articles so far in this series appears here.

By Tony Attwood

Drifter’s Escape

In my overlong discussion of the opening track of JWH (Being where you don’t belong) I made the point repeatedly that songs don’t have to mean anything.  Indeed Dylan himself has commented upon this a number of times.  But those who comment upon Dylan’s writing have tended to ignore this edict, I guess because they feel that if there is no meaning, there is nothing for them to comment upon.  So they create a meaning in order to give themselves something to write about.

I disagree, and I hope in  this review of Drifter’s Escape to show exactly why the “no meaning” approach to some (by no means all, of course, but some) of Dylan’s work is as perfectly valid an analysis as any of the “he was obviously writing about…” approaches that abound in the world of Dylan analysis.

The second song recorded for JWH was Drifter’s Escape – the ultimate Kafka nightmare where all logic vanishes.  Andy Gill suggested that the drifter does not understand the charges against him, just as Dylan did not understand the criticism he received for moving from folk music to rock music, but I really don’t get that at all.  People who love one type of music always protest when someone comes along and modernizes it or changes it, or where the composer himself then goes off and does something else.  We become comfortable with what we know; change is not welcome.

Thus fans and critics generally move much more slowly than the artists whom they adore.  The fans see the album as a finished work of art, play it and play it and get to know it well.  All the while the artist, who may have spent months writing the songs, recording the album and playing the songs at gigs, now really wants to do something quite different.  But the fans are still playing the last album, still loving it, still knowing that’s what they want.  That’s the tension, that’s what happens; that’s how it goes.  Musicians and fans totally out of sync with each other.

On JWH, having given us a look at just how weird the new world could be with Judas Priest, Bob now decided to make the world even weirder, via The Drifters’ Escape.  And here he did something completely revolutionary both in terms of his songs and in terms of popular music generally.

Normally the smallest number of chords you can have accompanying a melody is three.  Bob takes us down to two – and one of those is merely a passing chord on two beats every second line.

Of course he wasn’t the first.  Bo Diddley wrote a whole series of songs on one chord (with the odd flattened 7th thrown in between the verses).  That must have been so boring to play, but it sure was popular for a while.

But Bob now goes further.  For in Drifter’s Escape, even more oddly, every melody line is the same.  12 lines of utterly identical melody and accompaniment.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything else quite like this, except maybe “I need your loving every day” by Don Gardner and Dee Dee Ford.  I know that with these examples I’m moving away from Dylan, but these are the antecedents, and if you think Bob didn’t know these, then we are approaching this who matter from very different points of view.  (Incidentally if you leave the Diddley video running, you get a vid of Diddley and Chuck Berry playing a 12 bar blues together – apparently their first ever time on stage together.  Nothing to do with Dylan, but you can be sure Bob would know all about that and in terms of the evolution of R&B it was pretty important).

The other antecedent to this song, as I have mentioned, is “I need your loving”.  This of course does not sound like Dylan in any way, but if you are still following me down this route regarding songs that don’t change, do play it and listen to it all the way through; this set the scene for what could be done with just one chord (and in their case just one line).  All the way through is important, because later they bring in a variation which has much more power because so much is identical, just as Dylan does with that one chord change for the Drifter.

Back to Bob: the drifter’s world is non-understandable at every single level – it cannot be made to make any sense either for him or for us, the outsiders looking in.  In that regard Hendrix’ variant approach is a perfectly reasonable musical re-interpretation, painful though I find it.  (Drifter’s Escape starts at 3’30” – drag the blue line at the bottom of the rectangle to the right…)

Musically Hendrix treats this as a nightmare, and yes it is, but I feel Hendrix’ interpretation lacks the unidirectional element of Bob’s version in order to emphasise the  nightmare qualities.  For Dylan gives us music that is deceptively quiet while what the song describes is the nightmare.  It is a clever twist.

Despite the hurricane of insanity blowing around the courtroom, the music is remorselessly the same; the appearance at first hearing is of normality; it is only after a few moments we realise that this is the same music over and over and over, line after line after line.  It is really spooky when considered in that way.  It is as if the neo-fascists have taken over the government and hoisted the brown flag while on the lawn a pianist patiently works his way through perfect performances of the 32 Beethoven piano sonatas.  It is madness.

Now I tend to argue that when things are uncertain, taking the simplest explanation of what is going on around you us generally the best.  It is the scientific approach: if we start from the simple explanations and find none of them work, then we have every right to explore more complicated explanations.

And so in this song I start from the basic points: none of the lyrics make any sense at all in terms of the real world, and every line of music is the same.  Those factors to me are the key elements here.

Robert Shelton on the other hand is one of those commentators who goes down a different route.  He calls Drifter’s Escape “a transparent parable about a person, trapped by a role, who awaits a sentence of doom before a hostile crowd, when he is almost magically delivered from the courtroom…  the bolt of lightning could be Dylan’s [motorcycle] accident.”   Shelton also notes the song “recalls Hank Williams, the drifter being a victim of the music life nicknamed Luke the Drifter [an alias Williams used for certain songs, generally with a religious theme], whose lonesome chants have a similarly beseeching tone.”

But to me this looks very much like commentators going head over heels to make  the lyrics fit their preconceived ideas.  For if one starts instead with an open mind, there is only one conclusion: this world makes no sense.  Let me try and illustrate this to make this absolutely clear, since other writers seem to have got a bit confused.  (There’s nothing like pure arrogance in a reviewer to get the audience interested). Here is the opening…

“Oh, help me in my weakness”
I heard the drifter say
As they carried him from the courtroom
And were taking him away

OK here is problem one.  For actually no one does take the drifter away.  Not at all.  The last we hear of the drifter is that

While ev’rybody knelt to pray
The drifter did escape

And besides what is all this about “carrying”.  Thus the very opening premise of the song is contradicted by the last two lines.

Then there is the judge.  Faced with a man whom he says, fails to understand the charges against him, he asks, it seems rhetorically, why the drifter even bothers to try to understand.  OK I don’t know what US courtrooms are like, but I have attended several British court rooms and have never seen a defendant be told there is no point in trying to understand.  That seems a pretty important point.

We now learn that the judge stands down, but the jury start to tell the judge the trial is not over.  Really?????  I mean really????  How crazy is this getting…

Inside, the judge was stepping down
While the jury cried for more

There is at least a protest here…

“Oh, stop that cursed jury”
Cried the attendant and the nurse

But hang on, where did the nurse come from?  She or he has not been mentioned before.  Was the defendant in need of a nurse?  We haven’t been told.  Was he ill?  Or was there a feeling he couldn’t understand the trial?  If so what was the Drifter doing being on trial when he did not have the mental capacity to grasp what is going on?

And then the bolt of lighting.  We haven’t been told there was a thunder storm going on, so maybe this was a bolt from the blue, as it were.  God delivering a blow on behalf of the downtrodden.  That is pretty … miraculous.  Or downright weird.  But either way it is treated as just another passing event – which forces everyone to pray and the drifter seemingly to stroll out the door.

Let me put this another way.  This is insanity.  It is madness.  It makes no sense.  And above all that it is all contradicted within itself and by Bob’s simplistic musical approach.  The simple accompaniment and (and as I have said, but feel I must repeat, for this is the fact that every commentator seems to ignore) EVERY LINE OF MUSIC IS IDENTICAL.

A song of 12 lines in which each line repeats the music of the last line.

So what are the origins of this?

Well, as you may well know Kafka wrote a novel called “The Trial”.  It was not published during his life, and he left orders that it should be destroyed on his death, but then his executor disobeyed the will (which itself is a pretty Kafkaesque thing to do) and did publish the work.

Here’s the essence: Josif, a bank cashier is arrested by mysterious agents from an unknown agency.  He’s left free, no crime is announced… and an unspecified agency investigates his alleged but still unspecified crime.  Then he is told to go to court but not told when to attend or told what room to go to.   Thus he arrives late and is told off for this, but still doesn’t know what he is on trial for.  Later still he tries to find the judge, but finds instead the attendant’s wife.  Meanwhile we find Josef’s lawyer has a nurse, who immediately falls in love with Josif….

Court room, the unspecified crime, the attendant, the nurse, the judge, does this sound familiar?  Of course: it is both Kafka’s “The Trial” and Dylan’s “Drifter’s Escape”.  With Kafka and with Dylan we are in the same country, experiencing the same insanity, the same lack of coherence – and to a very large degree the same characters.  (There is more on this in Jochen’s review of the song).

Actually it seems blindingly obvious to me, but even sites such as the Bob Dylan Commentaries, which note Kafka in passing, still go on to see links and explanations which are remote from Kafka – when really there is no need.  Heylin in “Revolution in the Air” spends a whole page on “Drifters Escape” but finds no space for a single word about Kafka or The Trial as the source.  Yet the links are so clear I wonder what these authors were doing when writing their commentaries.

The repetition of the melody, the repetition of the chord sequence – it all paints an open and empty, black and white, pen and ink landscape.   This is Dylan working with Kafka; there really is no other explanation that fits here.

Interestingly, and not for the first time, I do however find that it is not Dylan’s version that is for me the definitive arrangement, but that of a re-interpreter: Thea Gilmore’s reworking of the song is perfection. The vocal harmonies are beautiful and then having the guitar line added to make a three part harmony while the beat is relentless, is perfection, until the time comes when she stops the jury.  Such a simple device, so cleverly executed.

Please play this and please listen to it all the way through if you have time.  OK if you don’t see what I mean about this interpretation fine, let it go.  But at least give it a chance.

————

12 years of Untold Dylan

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Sugar Baby on the Lonesome Road

by Jochen Markhorst

It’s the only album title he puts between inverted commas, “Love and Theft”, which seems to send a message. Double quotes – why does Dylan use them here? We know by now that he has stuffed this album with “lovingly stolen” melodies, text fragments and licks. Lyrics are partly copied, song titles borrowed, melodies ripped, arrangements replicated. For every song on the album there is a source on at least one of these four fronts, most of them have more than one.  Even the album title already exists; in 1993 Eric Lott published Love & Theft: Blackface Minstrelsy and the American Working Class, the subject of which is close to Dylan’s heart and it’s quite likely he knows the book. It tells, as the subtitle reveals, the history of white artists with blacked faces singing black musicians’ songs – the line to the white Dylan, who draws quite a lot from the repertoire of black artists such as Charley Patton, Blind Willie McTell and Robert Johnson on this record, is easily laid.

But is the album title therefore also a direct reference to the book title? In his autobiography Chronicles: Volume One, Dylan mentions dozens of book titles – never putting them in quotes, but always italicising them. Inverted commas he reserves for song titles and direct speech. The album title does not fall into either of these categories. So? Does Dylan place the album title in quotation marks to indicate irony?

Maybe he is already covering himself, not unwittily, after the plagiarism accusations following Time Out Of Mind. Not inconceivable. “Okay. This time I’ve written in big bold letters that it’s all been lovingly stolen, right?” Or he honours, somewhat cryptic, Charley Patton also indirectly (more directly with the song “High Water”). Two years before this reference, the fine sampler «Pony Blues» has been published, that is undoubtedly also in Dylan’s cabinet. Which has all those superfluous quotation marks on both sides of the title, too. The lovingly stolen classics “High Water Everywhere” and “Down The Dirt Road Blues” are on this sampler, as well as “Pony Blues” of course, whose blues scheme and ambiguous metaphors can be found on Street-Legal, in “New Pony”.

The beautiful finale to Dylan’s record, “Sugar Baby”, is a love theft, too. Musically it hardly differs from Gene Austin’s 1927 “The Lonesome Road”. Dylan adds a very nice descending melody line to the chorus, and that is about the only difference. Tempo, arrangement and melody are all replicated one-on-one and despite a different instrumentation the sound is also the same. Dylan has put a lot of love and energy into the search for precisely this sound, which he was able to find in the end thanks in part to a newly gained confidence in digital recording technology (the studio log mentions no less than 28 DAT IDs and eleven multitrack recordings).

https://youtu.be/uYz9q3VwRrQ

“The Lonesome Road” is deep in Dylan’s DNA. The song is on the repertoire of dozens of artists until well into the 1950s and there are more than 200 recordings of the song. The bard probably gets to know the monument through the Sinatra version – Ol’ Blue Eyes opens his popular TV show with the song in 1957. That version, like the recording, is cool, jazzy and almost cheerful.

But Dylan is apparently really touched by Austin’s original. Austin inspires him more than once, by the way: Gene Austin’s records also include titles such as “Ramona”, “Tonight You Belong To Me” and “Someday Sweetheart”. Dylan, however, borrows this particular title from another great name at the beginning of the 20th century: the first recording of Dock Boggs with his banjo (1898-1971) is called “Sugar Baby”. Incidentally, that same day in 1927 Boggs records “Danville Girl”, to which Dylan will refer with the title “New Danville Girl” (eventually changing it into “Brownsville Girl”, 1985).

From the lyrics the master mainly borrows the line that will become his closing line. “Look up, look up and greet your maker / For Gabriel blows his horn,” Austin wrote, and that apocalyptic line remains virtually unchanged, with which Dylan ends his album ominously. The other lines of text are partly copy/paste – the opening lines for example were originally intended for “Can’t Wait”, as we know from the alternative version on Tell Tale Signs (2008) – and partly inspired by other sources.

The second verse exudes Mark Twain influence. “I’m staying with Aunt Sally, but you know, she’s not really my aunt” recalls Huckleberry Finn finding shelter with the motherly Aunt Sally, whom he has told that he is her nephew. But you know, she’s not really his aunt. And though the ambiguous bootleggers reference is written shortly after the release of part 4 of the successful The Bootleg Series (and shortly before Vol. 5: Bob Dylan Live 1975, The Rolling Thunder Revue is to be released), the expression, given the bard’s documented aversion against illegal recordings, probably refers to alcohol smugglers. Although the recently surfaced anecdote about music bootleggers, recorded by Tony Glover, is amusing.

The date is 4 October 1971 and Dylan and his then wife Sara just attended a David Crosby and Graham Nash concert, which bored him quite a bit.

After the concert, Bob and Sara wandered out of Carnegie Hall and suffered the indignity of street-side vendors selling bootleg versions of his unreleased songs and live concerts. “Last night we were walking down Seventh Avenue, and on the corner was this cat hawking bootleg records, just “Bootleg records, bootleg records, get ’em here.” Just hawking ’em right on the street,” Dylan fumed. “I saw one. There was one he had of mine called Zimmerman. And I caught it just out of the corner of my eye going by, and uhhh … I was with my wife, and we went back and said, ‘Gimme that record.’ She grabbed the record from him and said, ‘Punk!’ — and we just took it, man, and split, just walked away with it.”

Funny, but underneath, Dylan’s opinion of bootlegs shines through clearly enough; he finds it a terrible phenomenon. No, with this one reference in “Sugar Baby” (“Some of these bootleggers, they make pretty good stuff’) at least the poet himself will think mainly of the illegal distillers and rumrunners. Fits better with the archaic tone of the song at all and of this verse in particular – the obvious association with “bootlegger” in a stanza that already contains a Huckleberry Finn wink is the nearby other Great American Novel, The Great Gatsby;

“Who is this Gatsby anyhow?” demanded Tom suddenly.
“Some big bootlegger?”
“Where'd you hear that?” I inquired.
“I didn't hear it. I imagined it. A lot of these newly rich 
people are just big bootleggers, you know.”

Not too far-fetched. Much of the nouveau riche in 1927, the year in which Gene Austin recorded “The Lonesome Road” and the decade in which The Great Gatsby is set, has indeed become rich thanks to the illegal liquor trade.

The Darktown Strut, from the third verse, Dylan knows from an old Hoagy Carmichael hit (“The Darktown Strutters’ Ball”, 1950) and seems to be a reflection on bittersweet experiences with coloured women (Darktown refers to the black neighbourhoods in the big cities), after which stanza three and stanza four push “Sugar Baby” further down the lonesome road. The memento mori of the last lines, in conclusion, puts the song down as a lament once and for all.

Out of all of this, the template, the references, his own leftovers and some fresh ingredients, Dylan brews a magnificent rework of Austin’s song. Despite its timeless power, the original had already been forgotten, but thanks to the resuscitation by the thief of thoughts, the song is revived. So that it, perhaps, in about a hundred years’ time, may be rediscovered and again be resuscitated by a Dylan of the 22nd century.

——

Jochen is a regular reviewer of Dylan’s work on Untold. His books are available via Amazon both in paperback and on Kindle:

12 years of Untold Dylan

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Decoding Dylan, a Servant of the Text

A Hard Rain’s A-gonna Fall: Dylan Stumbles Into the Void

Nothing is immaculately born.

Bob Dylan was the guest of honor as NECLC (National Emergency Civil Liberties Union) bestowed upon him its Tom Paine Award, recognizing what NECLC saw as his distinguished service in the fight for civil liberty. Already, even without the comfortable hindsight of over 50 years later, it should have been a recipe for disaster. Dylan was still a scruffy wunderkind not yet three years into his career, the beatnik sponge who could uncannily absorb influences from Woody Guthrie, Dave Van Ronk, and scores of other unsung folk stars of the age. The extent to which he absorbed and re-appropriated the works of others for his own purposes was not yet fully understood by the mass market music media, but Dylan had yet to become a marketable commodity.

What he obviously proved to be that night, a mere three weeks after the murder of President John F. Kennedy, was a scared and fragile young 22-year-old man brilliant with his understanding of the folk tradition but painfully awkward and often woefully ignorant when it came to common sense and social propriety. Imagine the thoughts that must have been swirling through Dylan’s mind as he sat at the head of the table that night in the Grand Ballroom of New York City’s Americana Hotel. This was many years before the comfortable packaging of TED talks and dynamic presentations. This was a time of carbon-copied typed notes, stained with coffee cup rings, smudged with tobacco ashes, and damp with frustration’s tears. James Baldwin, 39 at the time, was by Dylan’s side.

Since 1953, ten years before that evening, Baldwin had built up a career of absolute, uncompromised, fierce and focused works as Go Tell It on the Mountain and Notes of a Native Son. Compare that with Dylan’s two albums in a span of 18 months, only the second of which was filled with original material, and the explosion of attention Dylan was receiving must have been overwhelming. Baldwin’s 1963 book of essays might have been called The Fire Next Time, but Dylan was living a creative conflagration of his own, and the nature of his comments that night (much apparently fueled by a mixture of nervousness and inebriation) proved he would have a difficult time effectively getting his message across in a speech. Music would always be his medium.

“I haven’t got a guitar,” Dylan begins, and soon enough he starts sliding down towards a dark well filled with strange defensiveness and naiveté. There are some lines that would be adapted in later songs: “…it’s took [sic] me a long time to get young and now I consider myself young” would become “I was so much older then / I’m younger than that now” from 1964’s “My Back Pages”. This is a man who would never become comfortable with any mantle as spokesperson of his generation. “…There’s no black and white… there’s only up and down and down is very close to the ground…” he adds, dismissing the triviality of politics and trying to connect himself with the disenfranchised.

It’s when he tries to make a half-hearted, woefully misguided personal connection with a topical reference that he loses himself and the crowd. Here was this carefully packaged folkie superstar, clearly uncomfortable outside the context of his music and dramatically failing as a public speaker. Again, a mere three weeks after the assassination of John F. Kennedy, Dylan takes Oswald as a character (not a reality) and tries on his shoes: “I don’t know… what he thought he was doing… but I got to admit honestly that… I saw some of myself in him.” Here, obviously, he loses the audience and never has the temerity to follow through on this connection. Was he alienated? Did he have a sense that Oswald was, as he’d write about Medgar Evers’s killer “Only a Pawn in the Game”? The speech dissolved under a flurry of boos, hisses, and a splattering of patronizing applause. The evening had been meant to celebrate the Bill of Rights (then 172-years-old) but it deteriorated through Dylan’s apparent inability (or unwillingness) to follow through on a train of thought.

In the immediate response, particularly an impassioned defense of Dylan from ECLC Chairman Corliss Lamont, there are particular lines that resonate even through the tough transom of time that brought is to the Nobel Prize Banquet Ceremonies nearly 53 years later. “Walt Whitman and Woody Guthrie, the cultural antecedents of Bob Dylan, were not appreciated by their society until they were very old.” Later, he notes “…our history is too full of disregard for important messages which were unrespectable at the time.” In a response/apology from Dylan after the negative reaction to his speech from those in attendance, he offered some lines that were more Beat Poetics than a clear-headed elaboration of ideas he failed to define that night: “my life runs in a series of moods… I can not speak. I can not talk. I can only write and I can only sing.” He rambles and drifts through ideas both brilliant and mundane in his response, not clearly comfortable in the skin of his chosen form.

Had this happened in 2016, he might have tweeted a trite and cleverly phrased 142 character response that served as a defense and something to solidify his reputation as a folk singer, but Dylan doesn’t tweet. For those willing to read it, Dylan’s response regarding the reaction to his speech that night set the table for a career of second-guessing and hand-wringing that will probably never be resolved.

Ceremonies of the Horsemen: Dylan and the Nobel Prize Academy

December 2016

The protest that followed the 13 October 2016 announcement from the Prize-bestowing Swedish Committee that singer/songwriter Bob Dylan had been awarded this year’s Nobel Prize in Literature was followed by 15 days of radio silence from Dylan’s camp. Those inclined to protest, including an unnamed member of the selection committee, quickly concluded that Dylan was “impolite and arrogant”. The arguments about poetry as literature, and Dylan as an original artist or facilitator of the folk tradition — merely the means through which these ancient songs are transmitted — were revived. Leonard Cohen, perhaps the only other reasonable choice for the honor, noted that giving Dylan the Nobel Prize “was like pinning a medal on Mount Rushmore.” Cohen would be dead less than a month after making that statement, but it remained the most compelling way to put this honor into perspective.

Was Dylan worthy of this honor? How (or would) he absorb this ultimate indication of embrace from history into the work he was doing that night? For Dylan, the ultimate traveling troubadour, the day of the announcement was just a prelude to another of his nights on the road, heading for another joint. Was his initial silence simply in keeping with his strange temperament, or was he just grasping for ways to properly and effectively respond?

The speech Dylan prepared but did not deliver was, at least by his standards, remarkably humble in its concise ability to put his career and legacy into proper historical and cultural context. Delivered by United States Ambassador to Sweden Azita Raji, Dylan’s words evoke the feelings of a curious person who was familiar with the works of Kipling, Shaw, Camus, Hemingway and others. A cursory look at Dylan’s work proves not only that he’s an autodidact, but also that he understands the equal importance of structure, form, and tradition in both literature and music. Nothing is immaculately born. All the work Dylan has ever produced can be traced to inspirations and concrete origins. What he has done with the work that so inspired him over these many years is what makes Dylan such a singular figure.

“These giants of literature whose works are taught in the schoolroom, housed in libraries around the world and spoken of in reverent tones have always made a deep impression. That I now join the names on such a list is truly beyond words.”

Dylan’s speech, less than a thousand words, humorously reflects upon the practical concerns William Shakespeare might have had while trying to launch a production of Hamlet.

His words were written for the stage. Meant to be spoken not read… I’m sure he was thinking ‘Who’re the right actors for these roles?’ ‘How should this be staged?’ … ‘Is the financing in place?’ ‘Are there enough good seats for my patrons?’ ‘Where am I going to get a human skull?’ I would bet that the farthest thing from Shakespeare’s mind was the question ‘Is this literature?

It’s that last question, the status of what is or isn’t literature, that has dogged Dylan for as long as the plagiarism accusations. Is it? Or is this only after the Nobel Prize? Have any other songwriters won the Nobel Prize for literature? A quick Google search mentions a 1913 poet. The fact that his work is now safely and permanently ensconced in that highest of Academic prestige institutions probably won’t change many opinions about the man. For as long as Dylan the figure has been and will continue to be active, so too will be those who want him simply to play the old songs exactly as first recorded. For those gatekeepers, the immortal power of the work is always subordinate to the idea that Dylan has long surpassed his expiration date. The problem with those who have long ago relegated him to the role of the clever plagiarist is that they cannot accept the idea that he’s maintained for so many years, in one form or another.

It was within such a context that on 10 December 2016, singer/songwriter Patti Smith, standing in for Dylan at the Nobel Prize Awards Ceremonies and Banquet performed an impassioned version of “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall,” one of the remarkable songs that was in the atmosphere during heady the heady times of 1963, when Dylan received his Tom Paine Award from the NECLC. Visibly nervous, Smith fumbled one of the lines early in the long, complex song and asked to start again.

This song, an adaptation of traditional Child ballads such as Byron’s “Lord Randall”, is a question and answer look at the coming Dark Age, which was on the minds of many during the song’s December 1962 recording, less than two months after the Cuban Missile crisis. The Child Ballads, named after Harvard Professor and folklorist James Child, were a series of folk songs adapted and re-purposed over hundreds of years. They were sweet celebrations of innocence and absolute recognitions of mortality. Byron’s “Lord Randall”, based on Child Ballad No. 12, itself a long and cumbersome series of questions and answers, took from the first two sections: “Where have you been / my blue-eyed son” is followed by a testament of what has been seen: hunger, devastation, a black branch dripping with blood, “Ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken”.

What’s most remarkable about Patti Smith’s performance before that stuffy, reserved crowd of fossilized academics was its fragile vulnerability. She was backed by a supportive and tasteful orchestral arrangement, but she still managed to let the punk anger glow around her vocals. This was a singer who would not go quietly into the blanket of dread that was starting to cover the world in those weeks after Donald Trump’s election. In these quiet weeks before the storm, before the hard rain that would come with the arrival of the Trump administration, this was a perfect match of song and interpreter. Dylan had adamantly walked away from political posturing by 1964, justifiably leaving the songs to serve whatever purpose anybody wanted from them. Though her vocals were interrupted by nervous fumbling within the first few minutes, she recovered enough to reflect clearly, several days later, on the perfect connection between content and context:

“It was not lost on me that the narrative of the song begins with the words ‘I stumbled alongside twelve misty mountains,’ and ends with the line ‘And I’ll know my song well before I start singing.’ As I took my seat, I felt the humiliating sting of failure, but also the strange realization that I had somehow entered and truly lived the world of the lyrics.”

Surveying the American Songbook

February 2017

Dylan’s latest album, Triplicate, scheduled for 31 March, will be his third release of American songbook covers since 2015. Like most moves Dylan has made throughout his career, reactions were clearly divided. That Triplicate will be his first three-record release in his 55-year career only made for more frustration from loyalists who for years had been waiting for the man to release an equal amount of new, original material. These cover songs, ostensibly a Frank Sinatra tribute project, feature the clearest, sweetest vocals of Dylan’s career. What does it say that the first post-Nobel release from Dylan is a collection of stylized interpretations rather than a continuation of folk ballads, murder ballads, 12 bar blues numbers and patchwork quilt interpolations of lines from other songs, other texts, other people? To some, it’s only a continuation of the betrayal that started in Newport, July 1965, when he went electric. To others, though, this latest incarnation of Dylan is purely logical. He has always been the transmitter, the conduit, a servant of the text. That he’s still with us and still finding material to record, original or not, is most important. Bob Dylan, the songwriter, might not be finished, but he’s done his job.

Sources:
Tom Paine Award dinner speech.
Bob Dylan’s Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech“, The New York Times, 10 December 2016
Leonard Cohen: giving Nobel to Bob Dylan like ‘pinning medal on Everest’, The Guardian, 14 October 2016
Hundreds of Years Old, These Songs Tour Like New“, NPR Music, 20 April 2013
12A: Lord Rendal“, Sacred Texts.com
How Does It Feel“, Patti Smith, The New Yorker, 14 December 2016

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

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Robert Zimmerman And Bob Dylan 

 

by Larry Fyffe

Some forms of Gnosticism depict the material world as evil product of a flawed Demiurge – it’s even claimed by some religious leaders that along with His prophet Abraham, the Demiurge is made manifest in the Hebrew Lord:

It’s said that thus spake rabbi Jesus:

Ye are of your father the devil
And the lusts of your father ye will do
He was a murderer from the beginning
And abode not in the truth
Because there is no truth in him
When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own
For he is a liar, and the father of it
And because I tell you the truth, ye believe me not
(Gospel Of St. John 8: 44, 45)

With their duality of light and darkness, some of the song lyrics of Bob Dylan are easy to interpret as at least having some elements of Gnostic thought within them, but certainly not those expressed, or at least attributed to, the Apostle John above; claimed it is even by some Christian teachers that the same John penned the Gnostic-influenced Revelation which only adds to the confusion.

In any event, be it of little surprise that those with a Jewish background, like Bob Dylan, have trouble reconciling Judaism and Christianity – try as they or he might.

About the influence of folksinger Woody Guthrie, Robert Zimmerman writes:

My eyes are cracked, I think I have been framed
I can't seem to remember the sound of my own name
What did he teach you, I heard someone shout
Did he teach you to wheel and wear yourself out
Did he teach to reveal, respect, and repent the blues
No Jack, he taught me how to sleep in my shoes
(Bob Dylan)

Interpreted the following song lyrics can be that the Gospel of St. John is written with the intent to clearly separate Christianity from the Jewish religion:

I just wish for one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you
(Bob Dylan: Positively Fourth Street)

Likewise the following lyrics can be viewed as a concern over the AntiSemitism that’s fermented in the Gospel:

Down here next to me in this lonely crowd
There's a man who swears he's not to blame
All day long I hear him cry so loud
Calling out that he's been framed
(Bob Dylan: I Shall Be Released)

Because of the prevalence of AntiSemitism In America, many Jews change their names:

I can't see my reflection in the water
I can't speak the sounds to show no pain
I can't hear the echo of my footsteps
Or remember the sounds of my own name
(Bob Dylan: Tomorrow Is A Long Time)

Robert Zimmerman has a bit of political fun with the anti-Jewish prejudice he’s aware of:

Now I'm liberal, but to a degree
I want everybody to be free
But if you think that I'll let Barry Goldwater
Move in next door, and marry my daughter
You must think I'm crazy
(Bob Dylan: I Shall Be Free No.10)

He humorously points out that the Jewish God does not forsake Abraham’s son:

Oh, God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son"
Abe said, "Man, you must be putting me on"
God said, "No"; Abe say, "What?"
God say, "You can do what you want, Abe, but
The next time you see me coming, you better run"
(Bob Dylan: Highway Sixty-One Revisited)

Even in his ‘Christian phase”, Bob Zimmerman takes a humourous shot at the unbiblical Christian dogma of ‘original sin’:

Nothing can hold you down, nothing that you lack
Temptation's not an easy thing, Adam given the devil reign
Because he sinned I got no choice, it run in my vein ....
I'm pressing on
To the higher calling of my Lord
(Bob Dylan: Pressing On)

Zimmy learns to how to sleep in his own ‘Gnostic’ shoes:

You may call me Terry, you may call me Jimmy
You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy
You may call me R.J., you may call me Ray
You may call me anything, no matter what you say ....
Well it may be the devil, and it may be the Lord
But you're gonna have to serve somebody
(Bob Dylan: Gotta Serve Somebody)

Bobby’s a hard man to pin down.

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

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The covers Bob has not played (or at least not played for a while)

by mr tambourine

This list will be about covers Bob either never did or hasn’t done for at least 10 years from now (studio or live).

  1. Neil Young – Old Man (Again)

Bob Dylan covered this song more than 30 times live in 2002, but with a much clearer voice nowadays compared to 2002, I’m pretty sure he would crush this one.

  1. Frank Sinatra – My Way

Dylan has never covered this song, and he has covered all possible Sinatra songs. Although not written by Sinatra, this song was made popular by old blue-eyed Frankie boy.

This song might be vocally challenging for Bob but who’s to say that he wouldn’t find just the right arrangement for it? And if someone should be considered a true original and would perfectly describe the lyrics of this song with his singing and phrasing, and if there’s someone who truly did it and keeps doing it HIS WAY, it’s absolutely Bob Dylan. Thus, I have no doubt he would own it.

  1. John Lennon – Imagine

It’s rumoured that Bob covered this song in 1986, but a good audio tape of it doesn’t seem to exist. With his grand piano phase still a part of his live shows last year and him mastering tender arrangements of songs for his age, I could see him doing this song justice. Especially since it has a universal message, which Bob always knows how to deliver and phrase.

  1. Neil Young – Heart Of Gold

Bob still hasn’t covered this song to my knowledge, which is very weird, as it sounds exactly like a song he would write.

  1. People Get Ready

This song, written Curtis Mayfield, has been covered by Bob on multiple occasions, at least 4. The Basement Tapes, The Rolling Thunder rehearsals (or Desire sessions, not sure), the movie Flashback from 1989 and a 1991 live performance in Argentina.

Still, I think Bob would absolutely top each of those performances right now if he only did it.

  1. Leonard Cohen – In My Secret Life

Bob has shown the last few years that he can deliver some RnB type beats. If he gave this one the same approach to the Not Dark Yet performance of last year, it would’ve been very interesting.

  1. Billy Joel – Piano Man

To my knowledge, Dylan never covered this song even though it absolutely sounds like something he would write. I also think he would deliver it if he played it now.

  1. The Beatles – Let It Be

Wouldn’t it be great to hear Bob cover this?

  1. Chuck Berry – Johnny B Goode
  2. Ray Charles – Hit The Road Jack
  3. George Harrison – My Sweet Lord

I’m surprised Dylan never covered this during his gospel phase.

  1. Clash – London Calling

Dylan played this twice in 2005, both times in London, as a fragment, and he sang it too. Still, with a much clearer voice now, he could own it now.

https://youtu.be/z8eslL5zKCo

  1. Beatles – Something

Bob covered this song twice, in 2002 and 2009. Third time would be the charm.

  1. Tom Waits – Ol’ 55

A song also covered by the Eagles, making it a very likely candidate for Dylan to cover it too.

  1. Eagles – Pretty Maids All In A Row

Speaking of Eagles, Bob said recently that this could be one of the best songs of all time. Why not cover it then Bob and try to top it?

  1. Elvis Presley – Always On My Mind

Bob covered this song in 1984 during the rehearsals but it doesn’t come close to how he might have done it if he performed it now.

  1. Willie Nelson – Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground

Bob covered this on the 1983 Infidels sessions. Still, I think he would’ve topped it with his current band backing him.

https://youtu.be/fNxzlp-79xM

  1. Eagles – Hotel California

If Bob can advertise Key West, why not Hotel California too?

  1. Frank Sinatra – This Was My Love

Bob covered this song twice, during the Infidels sessions 1983 and also Tom Petty 1985 Tour rehearsals. Still, he probably would’ve outdone it now with his current band.

  1. Spanish is The Loving Tongue

This one would’ve been the best one out of the ones mentioned. Bob always delivered this song soulfully. Yet, we’ve never witnessed a Never-Ending Tour performance of it. Now would be the best time to do it.

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

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All directions at once 14: Being where you don’t belong

An index of the articles so far in this series appears here.

By Tony Attwood

At this point in our story we have reached the writing, recording and release of “John Wesley Harding” in 1967.

I have made the point already that the title of this series, “All Directions at Once,” is to me an appropriate phrase that represents Dylan’s ability to write songs that cover a multitude of topics one after the other.  While occasionally he does seem to write three or four songs around the same theme or topic, invariably thereafter he flies in a different direction – or indeed in several directions at once.

But now, as he launched into John Wesley Harding it could be argued that he experimented with travelling in multiple directions within the boundaries of individual songs.

For on this album he wrote a series of songs many of which had the most simple of song formats: the “strophic form” which means, verse – verse – verse and so on for as long required.  No chorus, no “middle 8” (that variation so common in pop songs after two verses) just verse – verse – verse.  And not just that but in most cases (although not with the very first song recorded for  the album) simply three verses of four lines.  There also seems to be a general agreement as to the order in which the songs were written, which is to a large degree confirmed by the recording sessions, and is very helpful in our quest for understanding what was going on.

Thus from a compositional point of view JWH is a dramatic change from both Blonde and the Basement, as Dylan moved from rock band to a trio – (percussion, bass and acoustic guitar with harmonica played by Dylan), and arrived at each recording session with lyrics and music all written out and ready to go.

So given that all this changed from previous albums, what about the lyrics and the music?

Seemingly Bob decided to write the lyrics first and set the music to those lyrics.  And much of the time he used exactly the same format for each song of three verses – although not in the very first song “The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest”

Also, although many people have endeavoured to find specific meanings within the songs, arguing that a mean x and b means y, on the surface some of the songs are illogical, if not downright incomprehensible.  Of course one can argue that any phrase represents anything, and the characters in the songs represent anyone from Dylan’s manager to Jesus Christ, but it takes quite a few leaps of faith and imagination to do this. And there is little evidence to support the view.

What the people who do suggest that “a” represents “x” don’t often do is explain why – why not write the song reflecting what Dylan wanted to say?  After all, he did that with sons as diverse as “Masters of War” and “Farewell Angelina”.   If he wanted  to write about Jesus, why not write about Jesus, if it was that important?

What I think Dylan was doing on this album (and this is by no means an original thought on my part) is using the style and approach of Franz Kafka, adapted for songs.  And he did this both with the music and with the lyrics.  In short, my position is that if Dylan wanted to praise Jesus he would do it clearly, as he did later in his career.  If he wanted to attack he would attack (as he did with “Plain D”).  Here he wanted to meander and explore.

So, Kafka…  Franz Kafka was a late 19th early 20th century Bohemian novelist who is recognised as one of the leading figures in European literature.  His work is often surreal and bizarre, and the situations his characters find themselves in are often absurd and incomprehensible.  His most famous works are “The Metamorphosis” and “The Trial”, but these works had very little impact during his life.  However subsequently he has become seen as a major force in European literature.

And now, on with the show…

17 October recording session

The Allmusic site says, “Clearly Dylan was attempting to write a parable of some description, with a narrative followed by a “moral” at the end of the story.”   The writer adds, “The story, most argue, is a simple parable alluding to Jesus’ temptation by the Devil.”

I simply don’t agree.  Not even with the first word, “Clearly”.   If anything is “clear” it is that the composer wanted to tell a meandering story.  It wanders, it is perverse, it is strange.  Events happen but without any explanation, precedent or (quite often) logical consequence.   There is no moral or spiritual lesson except “one should never be where one does not belong.”  And what sort of moral is that?  Does that teach me how to be a better person?  How am I supposed to know where I don’t belong?  How I am supposed to find where I do belong?

So how on earth did the Allmusic writer get to say “Clearly Dylan was attempting…?”  Why CLEARLY?????

Pop and rock music has had meaningless lyrics for forever – just think of “Tutti Frutti” by Little Richard, or “I am the walrus” by the Beatles; go back to the 1920s and 1930s you’ll find hundreds if not thousands.  What Bob has done is made these songs sound as if they ought to make sense, but then somehow they don’t.

It is a perfectly valid technique and as I say, akin to Kafka in many ways, but for some reason commentators really don’t like this notion of Bob playing with words.  Somehow they desperately want Bob Dylan to have a message, not for Bob Dylan to be entertaining, and (perish the thought) amusing.

If I really had to take a punt on this I’d suggest Bob was utterly fed up with people reading meanings into his songs, an approach which he has persistently denied has any validity, and so set out to write a number of incomprehensible songs, as if to say, “go on, try and make something out of that.”  And lo and behold they did!

But of course these are not random words in the lyrics.  There are themes within, including one of Bob’s favourite themes, “moving on.”  And in case you don’t believe me, and because this is appearing as a blog and not using up paper, so I’m not worried about space, I’ve gathered together some of the Dylan songs of moving on, up to the moment of writing “Frankie Lee and Judas Priest”.

  1. Rambling Gambling Willie
  2. Rocks and Gravel
  3. Down the Highway
  4. Long Time Gone
  5. Walking Down the Line
  6. Only a Hobo
  7. Ramblin Down Thru the World
  8. As I rode out one morning
  9. Dusty Old Fairgrounds
  10. Kingsport Town
  11. Restless Farewell
  12. Black Crow Blues
  13. Outlaw Blues 
  14. California
  15. On the Road Again
  16. Maggie’s Farm
  17. It takes a lot to laugh it takes a train to cry
  18. Sitting on a barbed wire fence
  19. Medicine Sunday
  20. Tell Me Momma
  21. Fourth Time Around
  22. Duncan and Jimmy
  23. The Whistle is Blowing 
  24. Six Months in Kansas City 
  25. Santa Cruz: 
  26. Roll on Train
  27. Going to Acapulco
  28. Pretty Mary
  29. Next time on the Highway
  30. Northern Claim 
  31. Love is only mine
  32. Bring it on home

Thus Dylan was a past master at the songs of moving on, by the time he came to compose Frankie Lee.  And if we want to find some antecedent or prelude to the work, the best I can offer is the comment in “Sing Out!” in which Dylan said he wanted to create songs of despair, and faith in the supernatural.   That certainly sounds to me like what he has done, except he did it with his tongue firmly in his cheek.

So I acknowledge that every line and every phrase can be interpreted as having a religious meaning (or probably any other meaning you want – the arrival of flying saucers, the poisoning of the planet – anything you like), and if you find that is right for you, who am I to counter that?  Rather I am just saying, I think there is a much simpler explanation which also happens to be in tune with what Dylan himself said: that is he playing with words.

And since in my academic days I was taught all about Occam’s razor (also known as the  ‘law of parsimony’) – the problem-solving principle which says, “Among competing hypotheses, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected,” that’s what I am taking here.  I choose the simplest answer: there is no hidden meaning.

Thus the “big house” as “bright as any sun” could be a house of ill repute, and it could be bright because “Satan can appear as an Angel of Light” and it could relate to “ancient Sun worship”.  Or it could just be a big house with the lights on.  If Dylan wanted it to mean something else, he could have made it clear, but he didn’t.   So, I would argue, if you want the big house to be something other than a big house, please explain why Dylan sought to confuse us.

In the sort of approach expounded by Anthony Scaduto, John Wesley Harding is no longer a gunslinger at all but a symbol of Christ.  From song to song, he says, the symbolism grows until “All Along the Watchtower” takes us to the Book of Revelations and the Second Coming.  And again I ask, why not tell us that?  Why keep us guessing and allowing us to follow false leads?  As I understand Christianity the Lord told his followers to go forth and spread the message.  He didn’t say, “spread the message but don’t make it too clear ‘cos I don’t want all these people understanding it.  I want them to argue, debate and above all disagree.  In fact we could even have a few religious wars along the way if you like.”  At least I don’t think He did.

The fact is, it is simpler to say these are just excursions into Kafka style story-land, which are created to bring pleasure, to open the imagination and provide us with endless enjoyment.   The construction of the songs gives us a set of impressions and ideas, which we can glimpse through the mists from time to time, and give us ceaseless pleasure.  What’s wrong with that?  Why make it something else?

By way of  supporting evidence consider the fact that from such data as we have, we know that Dylan wrote these lyrics very quickly, added the music in a matter of moments after, and spoke often about not being ready to record this album.

And then ask…

Could Dylan have constructed such a complex world as Scaduto outlines, in a matter of days, with so many carefully interwoven images, subtexts and messages?   Or did he just have a number of great turns of phrase at his command and then use them as an abstract painter uses his or her paint brush?  We can ask, “On the painting do the two crossed lines in the far right corner symbolise Jesus on the cross?” Or “are they just two crossed lines in the far right corner that happen to look good there?”  If the latter is our conclusion, that does not make the work of art less valuable.

Of course this can go on and on.  Barney Hoskyns in “Across the Great Divide” tells us that,  “At least two songs on John Wesley Harding, ‘Dear Landlord’ & ‘The Ballad of Frankie Lee & Judas Priest’, were veiled attacks on Grossman…”

Albert Grossman: the manager with the reputation for aggressiveness in his business affairs based, as others have put it, in his “faith in his own aesthetic judgements,” (which I once heard misquoted in a recording studio in the 70s as “faith in his own aesthetic juggernauts”).  Maybe but why would Bob do it in a song?  If he wanted to tell Grossman what he thought, he seems perfectly capable of doing that.  What’s the point of being obscure?

To support my case that these are just images, not representations and meanings, I cite the MusiCares speech, and Dylan’s general decision not to comment too deeply on meanings, as evidence for my view.  Because if he had a strong message he’d come out and tell us, as indeed he did with, for example, “Gotta Serve Somebody” and the other religious songs he wrote during an 18 month period of handing out the Christian message.

Maybe I’m too stupid to understand, or maybe it doesn’t translate readily from American into English but the whole ending about, “So when you see your neighbour carryin’ something/Help him with his load/And don’t go mistaking Paradise/For that home across the road,” contains no powerful message for me.   Yes, it is good to help others if you can.  Yes, the world that someone else has might look wonderful, but usually it’s got its own issues, just like yours.   Yes, be careful what you wish for.

But actually I think I knew that already.

And that I think is what Bob is saying: here’s a weird convoluted tale, but actually when it all comes down it, don’t get fooled by the jewels jangling in the distance. And oh yes, being nice to other people is always a good thing.

I don’t find meaning in Jackson Pollock – I love the paintings for what they are.  I don’t find meaning in Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues.  I know why he wrote them, and I know all about the fact that they are in every key twice,  but I don’t find meaning there – or at least not a meaning I can put in words.  I find the jagged edges of “The Rite of Spring” stimulating, difficult, and well, edgy, but I don’t say it means something.  I love these works for what they are, for their direct expression into my brain, and the same is true for me with Dylan.  Whereas Jackson Pollock tells me stories that can’t be expressed in words, Dylan tells me stories that can only be expressed in music and words – but not the words that spell out a story.

So when one commentator says, “By calling his destination “Eternity”, Judas Priest is suggesting that he plans on staying there forever,” my answer is “no he isn’t.  He’s calling his destination “Eternity”.”

Here’s another theory: “The story is a parable for Dylan’s own experiences in making the switch from folk to rock.  Bob Dylan himself is Judas Priest, the righteous betrayer of the folk movement.  The folk movement whom JP betrays is Frankie Lee.  The destination that JP pursues is the glory of rock-and-roll, which terrifies FL.  The passing neighbour boy that tells FL about JP’s endeavours and paints them in a negative light could be the media.  FL’s father who’s deceased could represent Woodie Guthrie, the father of the folk movement who at passed away just several years before this song was written.  The similarities to Dylan’s own situation are endless.”

At least the author of the theory, which appears on the Blogging in the Wind site does say, unlike many others who have pontificated on the song, “Of course, the theory that is imposed on the structure of the tale is just that – a theory.  It is just a guess for what this strange story of friends, betrayal, and glory could represent.  The reason why this theory is so good, in my humble opinion, is simply that it exists.  It exists for a song that I was ready to give up on.”

So that’s the complex, work it all out in advance, approach.  The blog with the title, “Every Bob Dylan song” (a bit of a misnomer, but it is good value, and does review a log of songs) goes the other way as the author says he gets, “the creeping sense that Dylan may just have been making this up as he was going along.”

And yes that could well be so – and there is nothing wrong with that.  A lot of writers use that technique.  Plus there is a big clue here: for such a technique to work, you need to have music that goes round and round and round over the same chords over and over again.  Here it is G, B minor and A minor, over and over and over again.  In fact as we shall see in the next piece, Dylan goes even further in the second track – there is one line of melody which uses two chords, repeated 12 times.  That’s it.

I’ve made my point, this is a long article about just one song, and I will stop.  But as you are still here, let me finish with a very personal memory.

Before settling on a career as a writer I worked as a musician in a theatre in London for four years, and as musicians we often had a less than wholesome regard for those who wrote our music and the lines our comrades on stage had to say.  It was an unjust and unkind view, but it helped pass the time.

One of our eternal jokes was that when one particular author found his plot was stagnating, he’d introduce a mysterious stranger onto the set to beef things up a bit.  When I first heard this song with its line, “just then a passing stranger, Burst upon the scene,” I really did burst out laughing, thinking “oh Bob, you’ve watched those same second rate plays too.”

For me that is the key line – it’s a story of random events without a meaning.  But if you find a meaning in this song, that’s fine too.  We can both be right, most of the time.  And that is the only difference between me and the writers with a theology to push.  In my universe we can all be right, most of the time.

The fact is the song makes no sense – in the normal meaning of the word “sense”.  The Christian interpreters of the song do get there in the end, but my goodness they have to work hard to do that, and at the end they still don’t have an explanation as to why, if Bob wanted to write a religious piece he didn’t come out and say it, and why he didn’t make it easier to understand.

Well, the moral of the story
The moral of this song
Is simply that one should never be
Where one does not belong
So when you see your neighbor carryin’ somethin’
Help him with his load
And don’t go mistaking Paradise
For that home across the road

The series continues… and I promise not to spend nearly so long on each individual song in the future.  Honest.

12 years of Untold Dylan

Although no one gets paid for writing, publishing or editing Untold Dylan, it does cost us money to keep the site afloat, safe from hackers, n’er-do-wells etc.  We never ask for donations, and we try to survive on the income from our advertisers, so if you enjoy Untold Dylan, and you’ve got an ad blocker, could I beg you to turn it off while here. I’m not asking you to click on ads for the sake of it, but at least allow us to add one more to the number of people who see the full page including the adverts.   Thanks.

As for the writing, Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Although no one gets paid, if you are published here, your work will be read by a fairly large number of people across the world, ranging from fans to academics.  If you have an idea, or a finished piece send it as a Word file to Tony@schools.co.uk with a note saying that it is for publication on Untold Dylan.

We also have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with around 8500 active members. Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link    And because we don’t do political debates on our Facebook group there is a separate group for debating Bob Dylan’s politics – Icicles Hanging Down

 

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