Abandoned love: the meaning of the music and the lyrics of Dylan’s song

By Tony Attwood

Let me say from the start, I utterly love this song and always have, and that makes it harder to give anything remotely like a balanced review.  But I shall try.

According to Heylin Abandoned Love was the last song Dylan wrote before meeting up with Jacques Levy, which is odd, because when we look at the songs of the year in chronological order of writing it was clearly written at this point …

If Heylin is right then Levy did not have any involvement in those earlier songs.  Yet BobDylan.com shows Oh Sister as “WRITTEN BY: BOB DYLAN AND JACQUES LEVY” and Romance in Durango the same – as with Money Blues.

My order of the songwriting is identical to Heylin at this point so what is going on?  It is hard to say although in writing the reviews of those earlier songs I have suggested that if Levy is there, his influence is minimal.  Certainly Abandoned Love was recorded on 31 July 1975, although not released until Biograph, and we know it was earlier performed at The Bitter End cafe on Bleecker Street in on 3 July 1975, during a show with Ramblin’ Jack Elliott which was recorded illicitly.

Joe Kivak has written a piece about the show which I would highly recommend.  He concludes

It was an incredible feeling to be in that small club listening to Bob Dylan perform a new song. We all felt we were watching history in the making. After he finished, he returned to his seat near the back of the club and quietly watched the rest of the show. Jack appeared so speechless and overwhelmed by Dylan’s performance that he started his next song with Bob’s buzzing guitar.

There is a recording of this remarkable performance on YouTube and I do recommend it…

 

All Music doesn’t review the song but attempts to cover every aspect of the song’s meaning by simply listing the song as “Yearning”, “Feeling blue”, “In love”, “Grief”, “Reflection” which makes my currently stalled Classification file on this site look almost sensible.

Indeed I would argue that if you play the piece, especially the studio recording, it is hard to hear it as any of these.  This song is bouncing along, and no matter what the words say it is hard to find it “yearning” or full of “grief” with such a musical background.  It seems to owe more to some Irish folk songs in which the subject is death, doom, destruction, poverty etc, and yet the whole piece sounds rather jolly.

The opening line of the studio version (not included in the live version) tells us exactly what is going on….

My heart is telling me I love you still…

OK, that is yearning, but then we are off both in terms of the lyrics.

I can hear the turning of the key
I’ve been deceived by the clown inside of me
I thought that he was righteous but he’s vain
Oh, something’s telling me I wear the ball and chain

Right, that is clear – he has been fooling himself, in love with the notion of being in love, upset by the parting, not by the loss, tied to the past by his own false visions.

My patron saint is a-fighting with a ghost
He’s always off somewhere when I need him most
The Spanish moon is rising on the hill
But my heart is a-tellin’ me I love you still

The head rules by the heart brings sorrow, as the saying goes, and he’s been brought sorrow although you wouldn’t know this by the singing of the song.  But the truth is he can’t even bear to see her.  Yet he needs to see her one more time before he finally bids farewell (although something tells us that even if he did, he’d still try and get back to her, rather than bid a tragic farewell.)

I come back to the town from the flaming moon
I see you in the streets, I begin to swoon
I love to see you dress before the mirror
Won’t you let me in your room one time ’fore I finally disappear?

Now he admits that most people can cover up what they are, but he’s as open as a child who cries when a toy is taken away…

Everybody’s wearing a disguise
To hide what they’ve got left behind their eyes
But me, I can’t cover what I am
Wherever the children go I’ll follow them

He pretends to be free, he talks about the beauty of freedom, but he doesn’t want to be free.  OK even if he can’t spend one evening with her watching her in the mirror, can’t he just have one last smile?

I march in the parade of liberty
But as long as I love you I’m not free
How long must I suffer such abuse
Won’t you let me see you smile before I turn you loose?

But no, this is pointless, he is resolved.  If I go searching I will never find what I want.   Searching for the long gone past is hopeless…

I’ve given up the game, I’ve got to leave
The pot of gold is only make-believe
The treasure can’t be found by men who search
Whose gods are dead and whose queens are in the church

Actually that last line above is quite something.  I’ve pondered it time and time again, and can find a dozen meanings, but which one Dylan intended I have no idea.  I guess I’d settle for the Zen way of looking at things – if you search for someone or something to worship you won’t find it in venerating dead heroes and keeping women on a pedestal.

But maybe not.

Now at this point we have a split.  Here is the version sung on the original live recording…

We sat in an empty theatre and we kissed
So send out for St John the Evangelist
All my friends are drunk they can be dismissed
My head tells me it’s time to make a change
But my heart is telling me I love you but you’re strange

So why St John?  Maybe no reason, or maybe because he was the only one of the apostles who was not killed by his faith (that’s always struck me as quite a thought – but then I look at these things from outside as I am not a Christian).  St John’s the survivor, unlike the singer’s mates are useless.  And we are back to the heart being ruled by the head and bringing sorrow?

And so he concludes that she should put on her disguise, come down from on high and let him feel and live with her beauty and love before he walks away forever.

So step lightly darling near the wall
Put on your heavy make up wear your shawl
Wont you descend from the throne where you sit
Let me feel your love one more time before I abandon it.

By the time of the studio recording we have

We sat in an empty theatre and we kissed
I asked you please to cross me off your list
My head tells me it’s time to make a change
But my heart is telling me I love ya but you’re strange

Here his is just saying, she has the power, please just cross him off the list of men she influences so he can walk away.  He needs her to stop maintaining that power.

One more time at midnight, near the wall
Take off your heavy makeup and your shawl
Won’t you descend from the throne, from where you sit?
Let me feel your love one more time before I abandon it

So there it is.  Utterly superb in my humble opinion.  It is perhaps when we recognise that the next song Dylan wrote was Isis that we appreciate the power he is vesting in this woman.  Indeed we could say Isis is almost here in this song, on the throne, ruling, controlling.  She’s next on stage.

Musically, what makes the song feel so unusual is the fact that we have two extra bars at the end of the last line of each verse.  Combined with the unexpected chord structure in which the lines don’t end on the expected chord.  That combined with the lyrics which are such fun and so unexpected, makes this a tremendous composition.

The song is in G and the chords run

  • G   D   Em
  • C   G   D
  • Bm      C
  • G   D  C   G

If there is another song like it in chord sequence I don’t know it.  Added to this we have the total change of timing with the last few words of the final line sung twice as fast as the rest.

The excellent Dylanchords.info web site prefaces the notation of the two versions as

Bitter End Version

The (Vastly Inferior) Biograph Version

The trouble is that excellent though Dylanchords is, they tend not to give explanations for the occasional comments like this, and the writer/s is/are such fine musicians I’d love to know more about what they think.

The Biograph version is also on line (at least at the moment)

I hope you enjoy it all half as much as I do.  If you do, you’ll have a happy day.

What else is on the site?

We have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with over 3600 active members.  (Try imagining a place where it is always safe and warm).  Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link 

You’ll find some notes about our latest posts arranged by themes and subjects on the home page of this site.  You can also see details of our main sections on this site at the top of this page under the picture.

The index to all 602 Dylan compositions and co-compositions that we have found on the A to Z page.

If you are interested in Dylan’s work from a particular year or era, your best place to start is Bob Dylan year by year.

On the other hand if you would like to write for this website, or indeed have an idea for a series of articles that the regular writers might want to have a go at, please do drop a line with details of your idea, or if you prefer, a whole article to Tony@schools.co.uk

And please do note our friends at  The Bob Dylan Project, which lists every Dylan song in alphabetical order, and has links to licensed recordings and performances by Dylan and by other artists, plus links back to our reviews (which we do appreciate).

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Oh Sister: Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, exchanging thoughts through song.

By Tony Attwood

If we leave Money Blues out of the equation for the moment (because everything about it is odd and difficult to equate with Jacques Levy) then Oh Sister is the first collaboration song between Levy and Bob Dylan, and yet once again we have problems.

We can hear the same sort of reflective moodiness that there is in One More Cup of Coffee written just before this song, and there seems to be little Levy in place here.

In addition, one wonders how on earth Levy would have become involved in the whole Joan Baez / Bob Dylan fighting through songs affair, which came along and which seems to incorporate

  • Diamonds and Rust
  • Oh Sister
  • O Brother

I’m going to start with this interchange between the two because it seems to me not only of some considerable importance within the song, but also something of significance; after all what other folk / pop / rock musicians have had a duel through songs written to each other in such a public way.

Diamonds and Rust was written in 1974 and if you don’t know it or want to be reminded try this …

I’ve chosen this version because it was recorded soon after writing, and because it starts with the comment “by far the most talented crazy person I ever worked with” which appears to be a note to the effect that the song is about Dylan.

And it ends with this verse, which I really do think is a masterpiece within the folk pop genre…

Now you’re telling me you’re not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
Because I need some of that vagueness now
It’s all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you’re offering me diamonds and rust
I’ve already paid

Skip forwards to Oh, Sister written in the first half of 1975 – so not too long after – and we have Dylan singing it at the John Hammond concert in September before a specially invited audience, including Joan Baez.

Dylan introduced the song (which you can hear on the video below) with the line “I want to dedicate this to someone out there watching tonight I know, she knows who she is”

Here’s the video

The song ends

Oh, sister, when I come to knock on your door
Don’t turn away, you’ll create sorrow
Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore
You may not see me tomorrow

Now that might be enough of an interchange for most people, but no, Baez came back with O Brother! on “Gulf Winds” the only album she created which was entirely written by herself.  She says in her autobiography, “And a voice to sing with” that for the most part the songs were written while on tour with the Rolling Thunder Revue with Bob Dylan.

The song is available here, but it is not a perfect recording.  Go and download the song to hear a proper version.

You’ve got eyes like Jesus
But you speak with a viper’s tongue
We were just sitting around on earth
Where the hell did you come from?
With your lady dressed in deerskin
And an amazing way about her
When are you going to realize
That you just can’t live without her?

Take it easy
Take it light
But take it

And just in case you are not convinced this is a repost to the earlier songs

Your lady gets her power
From the goddess and the stars
You get yours from the trees and the brooks
And a little from life on Mars
And I’ve known you for a good long while
And would you kindly tell me, mister
How in the name of the Father and the Son
Did I come to be your sister?

But this is not Baez being all nice and saying its all ok

You’ve done dirt to lifelong friends
With little or no excuses
Who endowed you with the crown
To hand out these abuses?
Your lady knows about these things
But they don’t put her under
Me, I know about them, too
And I react like thunder

I love this song, not just because it sounds good but because Baez gets into the meat of the fight between two artists in a way that rarely happens – and certainly never happens when a journalist toddles along and asks inane questions.  This is good, insightful stuff.

I know you are surrounded
By parasites and sycophants
When I come to see you
I dose up on coagulants
Because when you hurl that bowie knife
It’s going to be when my back is turned
Doing some little deed for you
And baby, will I get burned

I won’t go on and quote it all through to the end, but consider this as a reply to Dylan:

My love for you extends through life
And I don’t want to waste it
But honey, what you’ve been dishing out
You’d never want to taste it

This exchange and the seemingly endless exchange between fans on the website arguing about the meaning of Oh, Sister, are the two sides of understanding this song.   If 1000 people have written about the meaning of Dylan’s song, they have come up with 1000 different meanings, from incest, to a commentary on women in general, and of course a whole host of religious meanings (this is after all a Dylan song).

Dylan played the song in concert for a while (67 performances between October 1975 and July 1978) but then let it go, even though it got a good reception when played.

The copy of the lyrics supplied on the official Dylan web site has Father with the capital F, and His later, to suggest he is talking about God’s blessing on the relationship.

Oh, sister, am I not a brother to you
And one deserving of affection?
And is our purpose not the same on this earth
To love and follow His direction?

When we consider the direction of these lyrics, with the blessing of the Almighty on the relationship, and perhaps on their combined creative talents, the power of Baez’ reply is overwhelming.  For Dylan the truth is mystical…

We grew up together
From the cradle to the grave
We died and were reborn
And then mysteriously saved

Baez however wanted nothing to do with that…

My love for you extends through life
And I don’t want to waste it
But honey, what you’ve been dishing out
You’d never want to taste it

Dylan’s taunt is that that he might not be there in the future – a sort of “you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone” taken up to a spiritual level…

Oh, sister, when I come to knock on your door
Don’t turn away, you’ll create sorrow
Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore
You may not see me tomorrow

But if Baez knows anything she sure does know who she is.

The Rolling Stone review of the album suggested that “the bulk of the songs are nightmares, visions of a man on the run from something he can’t define, or else stories about the fear of having nowhere to turn (as in “Oh, Sister” and “One More Cup of Coffee”).”

But watching the performance of the song with Baez in the audience I don’t get the feel of that at all.

Instead I am, even at the end of a couple of days of studying the piece, very much with the commentator on line who said, “I can’t be sure, because, sadly, I wasn’t in the room with Bob Dylan and Jacques Levy when they wrote this song. But I have the distinct feeling that this is the one song on Desire where Levy’s contributions amounted to little more than exclaiming ‘Beautiful!'”

So do we have “a deceptively simple plea for human kindness from one person to another,” which is then rebuffed by those most cutting lines?

Well, yes, that is where I have ended up.

In this context

We grew up together
From the cradle to the grave
We died and were reborn
And then mysteriously saved

doesn’t have any religious context, but rather reflects on the lives of creative artists who, in the endlessly demanding world of popular arts today, have to create more and more and more of a higher and higher quality, or else instantly get subjected to talentless critics writing a year’s worth of work off with a “he’s lost it” one line throwaway.

When it comes down to it, Dylan is saying, “hey lady we were ok” and she’s saying “no man, you were awful, don’t kid yourself.”

As for the music “Oh, sister” Dylan uses a musical trick he developed on the last two albums of using the classic chord structure of non-blues popular song (in this case G, B minor, C, G) but then in the middle 8 using the much more blues orientated F, C, G combination, ending with the powerful held “saved” on D.

It is powerful stuff, but the meaning remains in shadows.  Which is most certainly not the case with either of Baez’ songs to Dylan.  It is as if he is trying to excuse himself by wrapping the song up in religious or symbolic suggestion without very clear meaning.

And he might have got away with it, if it had not been for those two Baez songs either side.

What else is on the site?

We have a very lively discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook with over 3600 active members.  (Try imagining a place where it is always safe and warm).  Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link 

You’ll find some notes about our latest posts arranged by themes and subjects on the home page of this site.  You can also see details of our main sections on this site at the top of this page under the picture.

The index to all 602 Dylan compositions and co-compositions that we have found on the A to Z page.

If you are interested in Dylan’s work from a particular year or era, your best place to start is Bob Dylan year by year.

On the other hand if you would like to write for this website, or indeed have an idea for a series of articles that the regular writers might want to have a go at, please do drop a line with details of your idea, or if you prefer, a whole article to Tony@schools.co.uk

And please do note our friends at  The Bob Dylan Project, which lists every Dylan song in alphabetical order, and has links to licensed recordings and performances by Dylan and by other artists, plus links back to our reviews (which we do appreciate).

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“One more cup of coffee”: the meaning of Dylan’s lyrics and the music

By Tony Attwood

The writing of songs in 1975 started with Money Blues (as we have seen, which now I come to look back, maybe didn’t have much input from Jacques Levy), followed by One More Cup of Coffee, and Golden Loom, which were not related to Levy’s input.  Indeed, looking at those three songs now, they increasingly seem to me to be a prelude to the Levy songs – a prelude that caused the Dylan/Levy songs to be written as they were.

Both Golden Loom and One More Cup have a vision of a life that is outside the norm, most certainly outside the hurly-burly of life.  Golden Loom, written after One More Cup developed the “beyond this world” feel of One More Cup, which as Dylan himself pointed out, is Romany orientated.

Dylan told Robert Shelton that he had been in France with David Oppenheim, when his host suggested they visit a local gypsy festival in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer in Provence, France, on Dylan’s birthday where he came across a Gypsy King in declining old age, abandoned by most of his wives and children.

But as it turns out that is only part of the story, for in June 1975 Dylan then met Scarlet Rivera  “wandering in the streets of the Village” according to Heylin.  Rivera was unknown at the time although has since made a dozen or more albums.  Her violin playing certainly had a profound influence on the way the song developed.

The song develops its “gypsy” feel through using the harmonic minor (very much a western classical concept, and itself nothing to do with Romany music) in which Dylan uses the chords that emerge from the descending version of the scale (A minor, G, F, E).  It is not a Romany scale in the true sense (such as the Hungarian Gypsy Scale or the Phrygian dominant scale).

There are many commentaries which suggest that the song is related to Dylan’s break up with his ex-wife, particularly because during this year Dylan also wrote Sara.

This of course might be true, but really would someone who wrote

Sara, Sara
You must forgive me my unworthiness

would also write and include on the same album

But I don’t sense affection
No gratitude or love

about the same person.  Of course he might, but I think the case is not proved – at least not proven for me.

The lady in this song is beautiful but remote and distant, and very much not one who gives her emotions to another…

Your breath is sweet
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky
Your back is straight, your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie
But I don’t sense affection
No gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
But to the stars above

And so the singer is on his way to the valley, after something as prosaic as a cup of coffee.  Whether the valley below is Hades or whether it is simply a case of popping off down the hillside… well that’s for each individual listener to decide.

For me, you don’t leave the great love of your life, or the guru you’ve just found, by saying, “I’ll just have one more cup of coffee.”  Rather, you might do that, having had a jolly afternoon or evening and so then you say…

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ’fore I go
To the valley below

The influence of the visit to the gypsy camp, as per the story of the old king, now surrounded by the remains of his family, comes through strongly in the second verse, emphasised all the way through by the violin playing.

Your daddy he’s an outlaw
And a wanderer by trade
He’ll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade
He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food

The whole Romany notion of fortune telling, mystery and illiteracy is explored in the third verse, particularly with its last two lines…

But your heart is like an ocean
Mysterious and dark

She is thus the unknown, and unknowable, remote woman.  An interesting experience for an afternoon, not the love of his life.

Emmylou Harris who sings the vocals told this story about making the album, which gives us a very good insight into the way Dylan has always liked to make recordings…

“There was a fellow at Columbia that was a fan, who was like an executive producer, and I think Dylan told him ‘I need a girl singer.’ Don DeVito was his name and I got a call that Dylan wants you to sing, but that wasn’t true because he just wanted a girl singer. I mean we basically shook hands and started recording. I didn’t know the songs, the lyrics were in front of me, and the band would start playing and he would kind of poke me when he wanted me to jump in. Somehow I watched his mouth with one eye and the lyrics with the other. You couldn’t fix anything. What happened in a moment was on the record.”

There is also the story that the introduction of the bass part, which has of course become part of the essence of the song.  This came about because violinist Scarlet Rivera wasn’t ready.

The bassist, Rob Stoner told Mojo magazine in October 2012: “The beginning of ‘One More Cup of Coffee’… that wasn’t arranged for me to do a bass solo. Scarlet wasn’t ready. Bob starts strumming his guitar – nothing’s happening. Somebody better play something, so I start playin’ a bass solo. Basically the run-throughs became the first takes.”

The song was performed 175 performances times between 1975 to 2009 by Bob and his Band.  There is a version with Emmylou Harris on the internet here.   Rather oddly it has a pic of Joan Baez, but I’m sure she’s not on the recording.

 

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Money Blues: unravelling the unreleased Dylan song of 1975.

By Tony Attwood

Update: we’ve found a recording that can be uploaded.  The Jacques Levy version seems to have gone from the internet but here is a tribute version.

1975 is the year Bob Dylan worked with Jacques Levy – so in coming to the first song that they wrote together it seems appropriate to say a few words about Levy.

Levy was born in New York 29 July 1935, died (of cancer) 30 September 2004 aged 69.

He studied for a doctorate in psychology from Michigan State University and later practised as a clinical psychologist, but always had an interest in the theatre and music.  In 1965 he directed Sam Shepherd’s play, Red Cross. Two years on he directed Jean-Claude van Italie’s America Hurrah.

Jacques Levy next came to fame as the director of  “Oh! Calcutta!” in 1969 (which ran until 1972), and the story goes that Roger McGuinn of the Byrds thought Levy could be a fine librettist for a project he was working on.  As a result they wrote Chestnut Mare, although the main project came to nothing.

So started the route to meeting and eventually working with Bob Dylan and seven tracks on Desire which were co-written by the two men.  It is also reported that in 1975, Levy stage-managed the Rolling Thunder Revue.

But his work with Dylan didn’t stop his theatrical work.  In 1983 he directed the musical comedy Doonesbury, and in 1988 he wrote the lyrics for the stage musical of the film Fame.  From 1993 he was English professor and director of theatre at New York’s Colgate University and during this time he also worked on Marat/Sade (1994), Bus Stop (1997) and Brecht On Brecht (2000).

In all Dylan and Levy are recorded as having written nine songs together listed (in alphabetical order) as

  • Black Diamond Bay
  • Catfish
  • Hurricane
  • Isis
  • Joey
  • Money Blues
  • Mozambique
  • Oh, sister
  • Romance in Durango

The first to be written was Money Blues, which was recorded on 28 July 1975 in the second Desire session at the Columbia Recording Studios, New York.  It was the second song recorded on the day, and it was only run through once – a typical “warm up” song as the musicians get themselves together and the engineers start to get the balance and sound right.

According to Wikipedia’s “List of songs written by Bob Dylan” which has (as of May 2016) 522 songs listed, Money Blues is unreleased but with the “Lyrics printed in Lyrics: 1962–1985, under Desire.”

There is one recording I’ve found, by the band Chronicles – a Dylan tribute band.  You can see it here, but the video is somewhat odd with all the people passing in front.  In the end I just wanted to hear the music.  But maybe that is me.  What we don’t know is whether the band simply interpreted the music as a classic 12 bar, or whether they had some inside information as to how it sounds on that single unreleased take.

What I don’t get however is why two such able lyricists should get together and write this.  I can see why they might record it as a warm up, but to go on and bother to write the lyrics down… and assign them to the two songwriters, seems odd to me.

And in fact I’d say maybe this is not a Dylan/Levy composition at all, but a Dylan warm up piece.  But maybe Levy, having agreed that the two men could work together, just started to improvise some lyrics.  Maybe he sang them on that one recording – although that too seems odd.

Or was Dylan still having a swipe at Sara, especially in the first verse…

Sittin’ here thinkin’
Where does the money go
Sittin’ here thinkin’
Where does the money go
Well, I give it to my woman
She ain’t got it no more

After this it gets to sound like it is having fun at the expense of the blues format… the sort of thing you might find in a Broadway show about the blues…

Went out last night
Bought two eggs and a slice of ham
Went out last night
Bought two eggs and a slice of ham
Bill came to three dollars and ten cents
And I didn’t even get no jam

By verse three it’s all getting a bit ordinary, and very blues standard…

Man came around
Askin’ for the rent
Man came around
Askin’ for the rent
Well, I looked into the drawer
But the money’s all been spent

And quite honestly the next verse does not add too much to human understanding.

Well, well
Ain’t got no bank account
Well, well
Ain’t got no bank account
Went down to start one
But I didn’t have the right amount

Before it gets too silly for words.

Everything’s inflated
Like a tire on a car
Everything’s inflated
Like a tire on a car
Well, the man came and took my Chevy back
I’m glad I hid my old guitar

And then the sexual innuendo.  The song’s character is rather unpleasantly looking to become a pimp.

Come to me, mama
Ease my money crisis now
Come to me, mama
Ease my money crisis now
I need something to support me
And only you know how


Untold Dylan: who we are what we do

Untold Dylan is written by people who want to write for Untold Dylan.  It is simply a forum for those interested in the work of the most famous, influential and recognised popular musician and poet of our era, to read about, listen to and express their thoughts on, his lyrics and music.

We welcome articles, contributions and ideas from all our readers.  Sadly no one gets paid, but 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 8000 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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“Buckets of Rain”; the meanings behind the music and the words.

By Tony Attwood

Buckets of Rain” was the last but one song to be written for Blood on the Tracks and appears last on the album.  In a constructional sense I am reminded to John Wesley Harding which ends with Down Along the Cove and I’ll be your Baby Tonight, two songs which really don’t have too much (if anything) to do with the rest of the album).  Here on Blood on the Tracks, we get a plaintive reflective love song, and a 12 bar blues.

But there is more, for Dylan does like to throw in something different at the end, and this song certainly is different from what has gone before.  Indeed Dylan treats it as different.  He once played it as an opener at a concert on November 18 1990 but that was that – it was different enough to leave alone otherwise.

But maybe he became fully aware that the song’s music comes pretty much directly from Bottle of Wine by Tom Paxton, a very well known song in folk circles which opens…

Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine
When you gonna let me get sober?
Let me alone, let me go home
Let me go back to start over

Ramblin’ around this dirty old town
Singin’ for nickels and dimes
Times getting tough, I ain’t got enough
To buy a little bottle of wine

It is indeed possible to write a whole piece without realising that the song is lifted from elsewhere.  It is only when someone plucks up the courage to tell you…

“Bottle of Wine” is today treated as a rather quaint song which everyone can join in, the irony of the folk club (generally) where everyone sings along being held in a pub being lost despite verses like

Pain in my head and bugs in my bed
Pants are so old that they shine
Out on the street tell the people I meet
“Won’tcha buy me a bottle of wine?”

being completely lost on those who engage in such activity.   It is desperate stuff made to sound jolly.

Dylan of course took the music elsewhere with a lighter shade of lyric, with lines like

Like your smile and your fingertips

and then wakes us up suddenly with

Everything about you is bringing me misery.

Indeed the first verse spells out the contrast very clearly…

Buckets of rain
Buckets of tears
Got all them buckets comin’ out of my ears
Buckets of moonbeams in my hand
You got all the love
Honey baby, I can stand

So instead of the desperation of the alcoholic we have the man who sees the world passing by and accepts it, changing himself as each situation demands, and thus losing himself in the world around him.

I been meek
And hard like an oak
I seen pretty people disappear like smoke
Friends will arrive, friends will disappear
If you want me
Honey baby, I’ll be here

But always we have this two way affair of delight and anguish

I like your smile
And your fingertips
Like the way that you move your lips
I like the cool way you look at me
Everything about you is bringing me misery

Quite what the red wagon and bike have to do with anything I am not sure but the ending is upbeat.

I like the way you love me strong and slow
I’m takin’ you with me
Honey baby, when I go

In a sense it is a summation of much that has gone before – the two sides of a love affair, the love, the despair, the ups and downs and ultimately as it is all over, the determination to pick oneself up again and move on.   This time, unlike the time he thought about missing the new woman when she left, he’s taking charge.  It is HIM, the singer, who is taking the woman when HE leaves.  He’s back on track.  It’s a summing up.  Time to move on.

“Life is sad, life is a bust, all you can do is do what you must,” isn’t much to say but it is something after all the turmoil.  After all, not everyone makes it through such a dark night.

There is that plaintive last line though, “can’t you tell” as if after all this he still can’t read people aright.  But that too is how it goes.  Nothing shakes your faith in people like a divorce.

Musically, the song is another one which is recorded with opening tuning – which means the guitar is retuned away from the normal tuning of the strings.  It gives a different flavour to the sound, and a chance once more to play with those odd chords that we have noted on the way through the album.

As I say, Dylan was left with just one song to write for the album, “Meet me in the morning” and it is interesting to see that he wrote the complex and long songs first, ending with the two simple pieces – a song based on “Bottle of Wine” – a simple piece of folk if ever there was one – and the other a standard 12 bar blues.

By the end of his writing surge in 1974, all the large complex work had gone.  He was tidying up the bits and pieces in his head, and wrote music to fit.

So with this song, musically the year was almost over, and with one more composition the whole album could be considered done and dusted.  All that was left was to select the order of tracks on the LP.

Index of all the songs on the site

Dylan’s opening lines: an index

How Dylan writes songs, and other articles.

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You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go: the line most commentators miss.

By Tony Attwood

This is another example of why the notion of looking at the songs in the order in which they were written, rather than how they appeared on an album, really pays dividends.  Just look at the list of songs that led up to this:

He’s looking back at his life gone wrong from every different angle, building up to the almighty climax of anger, disgust, annoyance, angst and just about everything else you could throw into it with Idiot Wind.   And then having got that out of his hair, he can calm down, and write a song for a young lady who he is having what he knows will be a temporary affair – apparently Ellen Bernstein.

And he can apparently have a good old laugh at himself as Dylan throws in one hell of a jokey reflection on his life, which gives us a much better insight into the song.  Ignore that one line, and the song is interesting, well written and entertaining.  Put it in, and suddenly we know, Dylan really is having a bit of fun.  “Idiot Wind” really has seen through all the anger.  Now we can relax.  He can laugh at himself.

Of course there is still quite a bit of angst about how love affairs always go wrong.  But mostly this is a song of acceptance.  I know you’ll go back to your husband / lover / whoever when our fling is over, and I know that is going to hurt, but still, it will have been worth it.  Because in the past I have had utter disasters of affairs and relationships, and if I am now going to enter a new period of my life.  Are we all ready for this?

At least that is how I hear it.  But “All music” – whose reviews I normally either can go along with, or can at least find informative and insightful, doesn’t help out this time saying,

Over a melancholy descending chord progression, Dylan sings the poignant melody of “You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go” wistfully, as if with wizened smile at the hopeless situation, trying to enjoy it while it lasts.

OK I can see where they are coming from, but really how does that fit with their later comment that “the singer sounds absolutely giddy at times”.  That sounds like they’ve picked up the clue in the fourth verse (the verse after the middle 8 which starts “Situations have ended sad,” but then they explore it no further so we are none the wiser.

I think they are misreading this totally.  It is not a melancholy descending bass (I am not quite sure how one knows that a descending bass is melancholy or buoyant except that I don’t get any sense of melancholy here), and if it had been written to be melancholy, why would Dylan brings such life and fun into the performances on the second Revue tour (see below).

The All Music piece focuses on the “sad sentiment” that “makes the song that much more heartbreaking.”   But for me this is a major part of the journey back from the separation and divorce.  This is not “turmoil”, at least not in the normal sense of the word, but exploration with understanding.  As if he is saying, “Yes I know I’m going to be sad, but it is part of what I am going through on the way to recovery.  I’m on my way back.”

It is no coincidence that the song is sung mostly in the present and future tenses – an interesting contrast to the mixed tenses of Tangled up in Blue, the present and past tenses of “Idiot Wind” and now this is the short term future.  Leaving the past, moving on.

Just take a look afresh at the second and third verses…

Dragon clouds so high above
I’ve only known careless love
It’s always hit me from below
This time around it’s more correct
Right on target, so direct
You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go

Purple clover, Queen Anne lace
Crimson hair across your face
You could make me cry if you don’t know
Can’t remember what I was thinkin’ of
You might be spoilin’ me too much, love
You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go

As for the middle 8, when was Dylan last so upbeat and hopeful?  He’s back in his rural idyll.

Flowers on the hillside, bloomin’ crazy
Crickets talkin’ back and forth in rhyme
Blue river runnin’ slow and lazy
I could stay with you forever
And never realize the time

And then, in the midst of all this jolly joyousness, we get…

Situations have ended sad
Relationships have all been bad
Mine’ve been like Verlaine’s and Rimbaud
But there’s no way I can compare
All those scenes to this affair
You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go

It is intriguing that not very many commentators have tackled the third line of this verse – a line on which the whole of the song revolves.  Indeed now I think about it, I am not sure who has commented on it at all.

And yet it is interesting for me, as a non-religious person, how little commentary such a challenging verse might get in comparison with some of religious references in, for example in the songs of the JWH album where almost every song is seen by some to be religious.  If a line can be so important there, why not here?

The first thing to recall is that Dylan loves making odd references, and I am often not at all sure that he is making a serious or indeed insightful point.  He’s just picking up images from his past experience and memories and throwing them in, without them having deep meaning.   But here he is, I think, saying, “yes my life has been pretty up and down and wild, I’ve taken drugs, mixed up with the craziest people, been the inventor of surreal rock lyrics, but now I am getting myself back together.  And hell, yes, now I come to think about it, Bob Dylan is a business, an empire of money making, and hey, that’s ok too.”

Dylan mentions Rimbaud in Chronicles, saying, “I came across one of his letters called “Je est un autre” which translates into “I is someone else.”  When I read those words the bells went off. It made perfect sense.”

And as we’ve already established in other reviews here, Rimbaud was certainly an influence in some of the early electric albums especially with the introduction of a stream of surreal characters flitting in and out of the narrative all the way up to the Million Dollar Bash.

So what does the Verlaine and Rimbaud line mean?  And why is it important?

Aged around 17 Rimbaud (and having been writing extraordinary poetry since his primary school years), he started writing to poets to try and meet up with them and explore his own ideas for his new style of writing, a style generally referred to as a precursor of surrealism.

Most of the up and coming writers of the time didn’t want anything to do with this crazy kid, hardly out of school, and so most ignored him, but eventually Paul Verlaine (aged 28 at the time) replied and took Rimbaud in.   Verlaine’s wife (like Rimbaud also just 17 years old) was pregnant, and yet Verlaine had just left his job and was drinking absinthe and smoking hashish and abusing his wife – and later his baby son.

The net result of meeting Rimbaud was that Verlaine then left his teenage wife and infant son, became Rimbaud’s lover and the pair moved to Bloomsbury, living in poverty, writing and quarrelling.  The two men split up, then got back together in Brussels, whereupon Verlaine shot Rimbaud in the wrist.

Verlaine was arrested and Rimbaud testified against him in court and eventually Verlaine got two years in prison.  Rimbaud then went back home and wrote  Une Saison en Enfer (A Season in Hell) and spoke disparagingly of his former lover thereafter.  By the time Verlaine came out of prison Rimbaud had got a steady job and had given up writing and didn’t want to know his old mate.  A year later Rimbaud signed up in the Dutch Colonial Army, which turned out to be the start of a series of bizarre adventures and ultimately the launch of his business career.

Given all this it seems Dylan’s reference is not so much throwaway line, as a new way of seeing his past.  It is as if he is saying that this is one way to interpret his love life and (when one thinks further) his business life and growing wealth.

And indeed he could well be talking not just to his lover but to everyone, including himself when he sings…

You’re gonna make me wonder what I’m sayin’
You’re gonna make me give myself a good talkin’ to

So he then reflects on life on the road and how the lady is going to leave while he continues touring (or is it that they will split up at the end of the tour? I’m not quite sure).

I’ll look for you in old Honolul-a
San Francisco, Ashtabula
You’re gonna have to leave me now, I know

Overall I think the line

Mine’ve been like Verlaine’s and Rimbaud

is a suggestion that he is now on the way back to normality – and that his endless tour is in fact his equivalent of Rimbaud’s bizarre adventures after the split with Verlaine and the end of his writing poetry.  Aside from the Dutch Colonial Army Rimbaud also went to Cyprus to work as a stone quarry foreman (can you imagine – from poet to stone quarry foreman?) and then went to Yemen working as a supervisor selecting coffee in an import/export agency before moving to Ethiopia with the same firm.

Later still he set up his own business dealing in coffee and weapons, helping Negus of Shewa become Menelik II, Emperor of Ethiopia.  He became established in the Ethiopian hierarchy, and was in fact a highly successful entrepreneur until he developed what was probably bone cancer, dying on 10 November 1891 aged 37. 

So, having taken that in, what do we have?  Either a throwaway line to help the rhyme scheme, or a statement saying “I’m joking” or maybe saying, “well, yes, Rimbaud wrote amazing stuff in his early years, and then after breaking up with his lover, travelled the world and had a successful business career.  I can do that, without getting shot, and without the cancer.

Musically, the song is also interesting.  If we look back to the chords of the original recording of “You’re a big girl now” we find here again a similar approach, and it is clear Dylan is clearly fascinated by the chords he introduced into You’re a big girl now, as now they turn up again.  This version is taken from the excellent Dylanchords website.

E                 Emaj7
I've seen love go by my door
     A
It's never been this close before
E             Emaj7      B11
Never been so easy or so slow.
     E               Emaj7
Been shooting in the dark too long
     A
When somethin's not right it's wrong
E                    B11               E . . .
You're gonna make me lonesome when you go.

There is, if you are interested in such things, a lovely Rolling Thunder version – one of those where he re-writes the song and gives some new sense and meaning.

And as something else, try this reinterpretation.  Just put up with the wait at the start, you might well find it worth the wait.

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Posted in Blood on the Tracks | 8 Comments

You’re a big girl now: the meaning behind Dylan’s song

By Tony Attwood

Updated 22 October 2017, with addition (at the end) of a link to the original version.

According to Dylan’s notebooks, this was the third of the Blood on the Tracks songs written.   The order of writing appears to be

Lily, Rosemary etc is a song that takes us back to Billy the Kid, and obviously relates to the thinking he had at the time of working on the movie.  As such it is outside the ambit of much of the rest of the album.

Tangled up in blue is different – such a magnificent work of art that it is hard to classify. It plays games with us in terms of the order in which things happen – it is almost as if the singer can’t remember exactly what happened when and how, cause and effect have broken down.

There is also the feeling that the “I hate myself for loving you” concept of “Dirge” has all been set aside, he’s mastered the events of his private life, and now he moves on.  But then Dylan wrote “You’re a big girl now”.  It (and four other songs from the album) were recorded in New York in September 1974 and then again in Minneapolis in December.  One version (the second) appears on the album and the other (the New York) on Biograph.

It really is necessary to hear both versions, to get to grips with the song, and indeed if you familiar with the album version I can guarantee that the Biograph version will make you stop in your tracks and just listen if you have not heard it before.

It has been suggested by many writers that the song relates back to “Just Like a Woman” written eight years earlier, in particular “I’m back in the rain” relating to “Tonight as I stand inside the rain”.  Maybe, but the basic essence of the two songs is quite different.  In “Just like a Woman” she breaks just like a little girl.

I don’t see any woman or girl breaking in “Big girl”.  Rather I find a man who is broken, and there really is only one way to read lines such as…

I’m going out of my mind, oh,
With a pain that stops and starts
Like a corkscrew to my heart
Ever since we’ve been apart

There are also moments of Hank Williams here, in particular “I Can’t Help It (If I’m Still in Love With You),” but that is a simple way of saying it all.    I am not knocking “I can’t help it” but compare the end of Williams’ song with the four lines of Dylan above

It’s hard to know another’s lips will kiss you
And hold you just the way I used to do
Oh, heaven only knows how much I miss you
I can’t help it if I’m still in love with you.

To me “Big Girl” is one of the most successful overpoweringly emotional songs of Dylan’s whole writing career – perhaps the ultimate emotional song in his entire output – although I think one has to listen to the Biograph version and the album version to get this completely.

There is just so much here to hit anyone who has had a deep, intense, meaningful loving relationship which has ended with the other party leaving.  So much that one could sink into its hurt and pain and never re-emerge.  Perhaps I feel the song so deeply because I seem to have had far more than my fair share of such events.  And I know that in the aftermaths I’ve never been able to approach within a million light years of this song.  I need the mists of Visions and Johanna, or the anger of Idiot Wind, not the sheer plaintive agony of this song – and again especially not that of the Biograph version.

It is not just “Our conversation was short and sweet, It nearly swept me off my feet, And I’m back in the rain, oh, And you are on dry land,” it is also that absolute self-destructiveness of the whole concept.

I’m going out of my mind, oh,
With a pain that stops and starts
Like a corkscrew to my heart
Ever since we’ve been apart

He doesn’t even have the strength to blame her, he has lost so much of himself every normal male emotion has gone.  This is desolation and isolation, hopelessness and emptiness, all rolled into one song.  You can face the sheer horror of “selling postcards of the hanging” and know that this actually happened, but you can’t deal with lost love when it is this overpowering.

On Blood on the Tracks,  the sleeve notes quote Yates,  “We make out of the quarrel with others rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.”   Or as the All Music review said of this song, “It is like seeing your father cry for the first time.”  There really is no escape from pain of this sort… you just have to let it take its course.

In another review  I found, the writer reflects on taking a regular session called “Sociology of Rock ‘n Roll” at OhioUniversity taught by a lecturer who himself wrote protest and folk songs.

One Friday he solemnly laid down his guitar, put his hand over his heart, and vowed that he could never write another song. It was all hopeless. He waved a purple album cover in front of us. “This,” he said, “has done me in. You can’t write a better album than this. There’s no sense in even trying.”

It was  Blood on the Tracks, … There was only one song that immediately struck me, sitting in that bar, and it still raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

The writer of that piece then takes us into “Big Girl”.

Musically the two versions (the original New York version and the later album version) are very different – even the chord structure has changed, the NY version being much, much more complex, but then sounding (strangely) simpler because of the way the accompaniment is arranged.

I appreciate that you, dear reader, might not know what I am rambling on about when I start to do my thing about chord sequences, but please nonetheless, stay with me for a moment.

The album version runs a chord sequence of

  • Bm, Am, Bm Am
  • G C G C
  • Am Bm Am D

On the New York version the guitar is tuned in a completely different way and the chords are (thanks to Dylanchords.info because I certainly struggled with this)…

Emaj7, B11, Emaj7, B11

E, B, A, E, B, A

F#7, Emaj7, B11, E, A, E, B

If you are a musician you’ll know what I mean, but even if not, you might notice that we have in here chords I’ve never mentioned before in any review on this site – Dylan rarely, if ever, at this stage of his career used chords like “E major 7” or B11.  I won’t take up your time describing them – just take it from me, a lot of very good guitarists would have to pause and work out how exactly you play these chords.  Dylan is, indeed, off in a different land – a land he returned to much, much later.

So the song rolls from its false opening

Our conversation was short and sweet
It nearly swept me off my feet

which sounds like it could have been a really good meeting, because sweeping a person off his/her feet is normally a positive emotion (at least in English English)  but then

And I’m back in the rain, oh, oh,
And you are on dry land
You made it there somehow
You’re a big girl now

And so we know this is something going terribly, terribly, terribly wrong.

Bird on the horizon, sittin’ on a fence
He’s singin’ his song for me at his own expense
And I’m just like that bird, oh, oh,
Singin’ just for you
I hope that you can hear
Hear me singin’ through these tears

No one is making me do this, no one is paying me to do this, I’m just making this record because I can’t find any other way to deal with this hurt and pain.  This is all I have.

Time is a jet plane, it moves too fast
Oh, but what a shame if all we’ve shared can’t last
I can change, I swear, oh, oh
See what you can do
I can make it through
You can make it too

Yes he really is desperate – that plea “I can change” is always the last desperate “give me one more chance” of the hopeless man with a hopeless case.

Love is so simple, to quote a phrase
You’ve known it all the time
I’m learnin’ it these days
Oh, I know where I can find you, oh, oh
In somebody’s room
It’s a price I have to pay
You’re a big girl all the way

I have no escape, there is no solution, there is, in fact, nothing.

My one hope, if you are reading this, and you feel up to it (ie not if you are within six months of a serious breakup and there is no sign of anyone new on the horizon), you listen to both versions of the song, and then maybe listen again, not to the voice, but to what the instruments are doing.   We are talking two different languages in the construction of this song, and that in itself is a masterpiece.

Between 1 May 1976 and 29 October 2007 Dylan played this song 212 times live.  Looking at the totals of live performances that is only three fewer than Visions, and half the number of times he’s played Tweedle Dum.  Make of that what you will.

But let me leave you with a comment from a reviewer on the internet.

“I haven’t played Blood in the Tracks for a few years, but I’ve been listening to it over the past few days. I’m going to play that song at an upcoming arts conference. And I’m going to talk about why the words “oh, oh” might constitute some of the best songwriting ever.”

I can see exactly what he means.

Here’s the original version

What else is on the site

1: Over 400 reviews of Dylan songs.  There is an index to these in alphabetical order on the home page, and an index to the songs in the order they were written in the Chronology Pages.

2: The Chronology.  We’ve taken all the songs we can find recordings of and put them in the order they were written (as far as possible) not in the order they appeared on albums.  The chronology is more or less complete and is now linked to all the reviews on the site.  We have also recently started to produce overviews of Dylan’s work year by year.     The index to the chronologies is here.

3: Bob Dylan’s themes.  We publish a wide range of articles about Bob Dylan and his compositions.  There is an index here.

4:   The Discussion Group    We now have a discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook.  Just type the phrase “Untold Dylan” in, on your Facebook page or follow this link 

5:  Bob Dylan’s creativity.   We’re fascinated in taking the study of Dylan’s creative approach further.  The index is in Dylan’s Creativity.

6: You might also like: A classification of Bob Dylan’s songs and partial Index to Dylan’s Best Opening Lines

And please do note   The Bob Dylan Project, which lists every Dylan song in alphabetical order, and has links to licensed recordings and performances by Dylan and by other artists, is starting to link back to our reviews

Posted in Biograph, Blood on the Tracks | 15 Comments

The ideas keep flooding in: how Untold Dylan grows.

By Tony Attwood

The first aim of this site – to review all the important Bob Dylan songs – remains the same, but I have just had a few days off that because as always new things keep popping up.

We first got diverted into the notion that seeing the songs in the chronological order they were written in will help understand Dylan’s development as a composer – and it most certainly has.  We’ve reached 1973 in the index, with every single song reviewed, and very shortly I will put up the index to 1974 and then fill in the review gaps.

Dylan songs in Chronological Order

Then we moved on to thinking Dylan’s best opening lines.  That index of first lines in order has approach 100, most particularly with Dearbhla’s help, and that is continuing to grow.

Dylan’s opening lines, an index

Along the way the idea of doing a Dylan anniversary index cropped up, and a little bit on that was done, but it was so massive a task I’ve put it on hold, although I can see how it should be done, and I have most of the data.  It just needs writing up.  This one is going to have to wait.

And then along came Dylan’s best lines that are not first lines.

We have put a few on the Untold Dylan Facebook group (just search for Untold Dylan on Facebook or else go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/254617038225146/

Incidentally, if you are interested, we’ve had a discussion on the influence of Robert Johnson and Woody Guthrie on Dylan on the Facebook group too.  I do hope you can join us.

If you would like to help out on any of these projects please do write to me: TonyAttwoodofLondon@gmail.com

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The Facebook “Untold Dylan” group is 50

by Tony Attwood

OK in the great scheme of things 50 ain’t that many but even so, it is a great start.

Today we are debating whether it was Robert Johnson or Woody Guthrie who had the greatest influence on the early Dylan – and how we can tell.

Anyone can post, there is no moderator, so we can just go where the debate takes us.  And it really serves a purpose of allowing members to be able to direct the discussion to anywhere they want.

I do hope you will consider joining.   Just go to

https://www.facebook.com/groups/254617038225146/

or on Facebook you can try typing in Untold Dylan – although we have had reports that this does not always work.

Hope you find it interesting.

Tony

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Dylan’s Wedding song: the meaning of the music and the words

By Tony Attwood

I have suggested that inside Planet Waves there is the winding road that leads to Tangled up in Blue, just as inside the Pat Garrett album there is the basis of Lily, Rosemary and the Jack if Hearts.

But there is something else in this album – the look back to the acoustic days with Dirge and this song – the last two songs written for the album.

While with Dirge we have the verbal evidence that the song was written in response to a jokey comment about Dylan’s sentimental change as he got older, with this song we have no such extraneous commentary to go on.  But we can still guess.

I believe the original version of Dirge was recorded on guitar before being re-worked on piano.  Here this guitar version of a totally opposite song makes the counterpoint.  Dirge begins “I hate myself for loving you,” while this beings “I love you more than ever.”

Such commentary that we do have on the writing and recording process at the very end of Heylin’s volume 1 (Revolution in the Air), suggests in came out in a burst, and Dylan just recorded the song.  It sounds rough and ready, the chord sequence changes between verses (and one can’t be sure if that is deliberate or not), Dylan stumbles over the lengths of the lines … all told this is an urgent if occasionally meandering statement from a man who just has to say it, and has to say it now.  When musicians used to say, “tell it like it is,” this is what was meant – a total outpouring in one go, never to be re-recorded.

But none of that means it is a personal piece of music, any more than Dirge is a personal piece of music.  Rather, as I suggest, having written Dirge, he needed to write Wedding Song, just for a sense of artistic balance and his own well-being.  And just to prove that he could still write songs like this.

As with Dirge this really does take us back to a much earlier Dylan, both because it is acoustic, and because it is strophic – the verse – verse – verse formulation without any break into the middle 8 (or “bridge”) – that variant section which in classic rock comes after the second verse.  As I suggested above, the variant we get is by changing the chord structure in the third line of each verse.

Image falls onto image as thought pushes thought out of the way, but there is that unrelenting vision that he is not the Leader, he is not here to change everything, certainly not here to tell us what to do.  He is just a guy.

It’s never been my duty to remake the world at large
Nor is it my intention to sound a battle charge

Put another way “It ain’t me babe” in the sense that I am not a man who tells you what to do, but it is me babe in terms of the man who loves you “more than ever, more than time and more than love” all the way through to the ending, “I love you more than ever now that the past is gone”.   (Which immediately makes me think we really should have an index of last lines, as well as an index of first lines).

I don’t feel that Dylan was writing about himself or his own experience here, any more than he was in Dirge, any more than most novelists cast themselves as the central character in each novel, any more than an actor plays himself every time he gets on stage.

If there is anything personal here (and as I say, I doubt it) it is to be found in the tremendous sense of power and liberation that comes from his saying goodby to the “haunted rooms and faces in the street, To the courtyard of the jester which is hidden from the sun” – to the self torment, and to the artificial worlds and false people that were portrayed in the Basement Tapes.   And now there is a new life, for “I love you more than ever and I haven’t yet begun.”

But then, since I have never taken it that the people at the Million Dollar Bash were real, that is no change.    This is not stunningly brilliant poetry – but it is a powerful way of putting across the emotions which, if we are lucky, we all feel at some time in our lives.   He doesn’t say, “I’m nothing without you,” but says you make my life richer, in a much more interesting way.

Of course not every line is perfect.   “Your love cuts like a knife” is as old as pop music, and probably much older.  But the relentless power, makes all this work.

And because of the way the music is written, starting on A minor but falling away to G at the end of each verse, we feel like we have just had a long long sigh, reflecting on all this… we have no idea if it is going to go on or when the end of the song will come.  He ends the verses on this downbeat, placing himself as a person less than the woman he loves because she has given him all.  Just look at these last lines…

I’d sacrifice the world for you and watch my senses die

But happiness to me is you and I love you more than blood

And if there is eternity I’d love you there again

And I love you more than ever with that love that doesn’t cease

‘Cause I love you more than ever now that the past is gone

He casts himself as nothing, blown along in the eddies and tides of time, only being here to love this woman.  There is nothing to change in the world because he has been given everything.  He hasn’t created it, he hasn’t modified it, he has had it presented to him, and he is happy to leave it at that.   As he said at the end of the first verse, “I love you more than life itself, you mean that much to me.”

Musically… it is like a roughened version of Dark Eyes.   Remember how the album ends with

Oh, the gentlemen are talking and the midnight moon is on the riverside.

Here is another picture in contrast to most of the album that has gone before – although we have the great contrast in lyrics with Dirge.

This is, overall, an album that looks deep into the heart of all sorts of emotions – consider what was explored in “Going Going Gone” in that middle 8 that so occupied my thoughts in the review, alongside this song, Dirge, Forever Young…

Indeed Forever Young itself now takes on a new meaning – stay forever young so you don’t get close to what I explore in the rest of these songs.

It is sometimes said that as soon as one sees the title “Wedding Song” one must think of Dylan’s own wedding.  And maybe that would be true if the song was presented on its own.  But it is not.  It is presented after Dirge, and at the end of the collection.  It has to be seen in that context.

Above all I reject the notion that I have read that “Dylan recorded it more or less in the same slapdash style as he did his acoustic albums”.  He recorded it in a way that gives it the total power it deserves.  The power of one man on his own, the wind buffeting his face as he sits on a rock next to the lady he loves trying to explain himself, stumbling over the words, not quite able to find the right phrase.  It is a glimpse of real life through a song in an age of technical production, and all the better for that.

Where I differ from many commentators is in thinking that when Dylan mentions three children, there is some secret point here.  For me, he is writing a piece of astoundingly powerful fiction, in which I can empathise with the character at the centre of the story.  Hell, when I was writing my bits of Doctor Who and Blake’s 7 (sci fi tales made by the BBC and realised also in books) I didn’t have to go into our space.  I wasn’t in the books.  Same here.

So was Wedding Song “Dylan’s last Hail Mary shot at reconciliation with his wife” as has been suggested?  No not for me.  On its own I might be persuaded, but why on earth would a man who wanted to plot a reconciliation do it in public on an album with a song that followed a piece that started out,

I hate myself for lovin’ you and the weakness that it showed

No, he wrote it because he wanted a contrast with Dirge.  And he wrote it because he could.


We now have a discussion group “Untold Dylan” on Facebook.  Just type the phrase in, on your Facebook page or go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/254617038225146/ 

All the songs reviewed on this site

The songs in chronological order

Dylan’s opening lines: an index

 

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Untold Dylan Facebook discussion group

If you post a comment on this site (which of course you are always welcome to do) it will appear under one of the articles.   Which is fine, but then only those people who read that article will see your comment.

I want to try and broaden the discussion through setting up a Facebook open discussion group.

You can join it either by typing in “Untold Dylan” in Facebook or going to https://www.facebook.com/groups/254617038225146/ 

It’s just an experiment – just as this site started out as an experiment.  But now it has grown.

And grown.

Tony

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Dirge: the meaning behind one of Dylan’s most bleak and morbid songs

By Tony Attwood

Oxford Dictionaries has a Dirge as a lament for the dead – especially one that is part of a funeral.  But it can also be just a mournful song – although the dictionary also casts it as “a  song or piece of music that is considered too slow, miserable, or boring” giving the example “after his ten-minute dirge, the audience booed.”

I think we might take the middle definition – a mournful song.  Rob Fraboni the recording session’s engineer suggests that Dirge was written during the recording sessions, unlike the other songs on Planet Waves which Dylan composed beforehand.

There is also the suggestion that Lou Kemp’s girlfriend Martha had the temerity to say to Dylan, on hearing “Forever Young,”  “Are you getting mushy in your old age?”  The tape log apparently has the song titled as “Dirge for Martha” but it became “Dirge” by the time the album was put together.

Whether anyone would have the temerity to say such a thing to Dylan is interesting.  If I found myself around the same recording studio I think I’d be hiding in the corner shaking, in case he realised I was there and threw me out.  But these youngsters eh?

Anyway, as I understand it, Lou Kemp has been a friend of Dylan’s from the Duluth boyhood days, and Kemp has been on tour with Dylan.  It is also said elsewhere the Lou Kemp managed a number of Dylan tours in the 1970s, so maybe this all makes sense.

If so, Dirge is not written for or about any particular woman – it was just a riposte to a throwaway comment of a close friend’s girlfriend and was put in, perhaps, because the number of songs available for Planet Waves was limited.  They needed one more so Dylan took the joke and turned it into a song. As I have noted elsewhere, with earlier albums Dylan could often put songs in, take them out, to get the balance of the album right.  But here there was no surfeit of songs – so in it went.

Notably, Dirge is one of the songs that has appeared on a mainsteam album but never been performed in public.   The official BobDylan.com site lists something like 629 Dylan songs in its index, of which 287 have never been performed live, not even once.

So it is not alone in this regard – we can think of “Down the highway” from Freewheelin, “Don’t fall apart on me tonight” from Infidels, and “Dirt Road Blues” from Time out of Mind – and I’ve just looked up the index for “D”!

I like the explanation that Dylan wrote the piece just to show he could be bleak and morbid, and it fits with the fact that musically there are similarities between this piece and “This Wheels on Fire” which uses the musical approach to come up with a completely different type of songs.

But to stay with the words for a moment, it is impossible to think of anything more depressing and end-of-worldish than the opening

I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed
You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road
The stage was set, the lights went out all around the old hotel
I hate myself for loving you and I’m glad the curtain fell.

In the second verse I am guessing (in my usual naive English way) that Lower Broadway is Downtown Nashville, the one-time home of the honkytonk bars… now “a renowned entertainment district for country music.”

I hate that foolish game we played and the need that was expressed
And the mercy that you showed to me, whoever would have guessed
I went out on Lower Broadway and I felt that place within
That hollow place where martyrs weep and angels play with sin.

But after this there is an other world remoteness about the lyrics, which have the feeling of fiction.  None the worse for that of course, it is a very fine piece of writing – but it is the writing Dylan can do very quickly – the description of the down and out and life gone wrong.   The way of writing he learned from all those years with the blues.

This is the World Gone Wrong once more both in general terms about the world in which he lives…

Heard your songs of freedom and man forever stripped
Acting out his folly while his back is being whipped
Like a slave in orbit he’s beaten ’til he’s tame
All for a moment’s glory and it’s a dirty, rotten shame.

His own desperation with the world around him, rather than a particular person is played out in these verses,

There are those who worship loneliness, I’m not one of them
In this age of fibreglass I’m searching for a gem
The crystal ball upon the wall hasn’t shown me nothing yet
I’ve paid the price of solitude but at least I’m out of debt.

And then the personal antagonism…

I can’t recall a useful thing you ever did for me
‘Cept pat me on the back one time when I was on my knees
We stared into each other’s eyes ’till one of us would break
No use to apologize, what difference would it make ?

And I think that the final verse with its Doom Machine tells us most certainly that this is not a personal piece.  Dylan doesn’t use phrases like that, which sound more 60s protest than 70s personal, unless he is talking of the world at large.

So sing your praise of progress and of the Doom Machine
The naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be seen
Lady Luck who shines on me, will tell you where I’m at
I hate myself for loving you but I should get over that.

It is in fact a song that could easily have fitted into a much earlier album from the previous decade – and that fact fits with the “mushy in your old age” comment, that point me so strongly in the direction of the Martha story.  It is the only thing that really seems to explain this song being so out of alignment with the rest of the album.

So I don’t go for any of the interpretations that claim the song is about addiction, or rejection of his own past involvement in the protest movement, or even problems with Sara back home.  It is also, I think, a bit far fetched to say that this is a song in which Dylan is saying that he doesn’t want to be labelled or forced into any particular mould.  He’d already done that by now.  He’d wandered through different styles and approaches, he’d written songs in all sorts of forms and guises, he’d had fun at the expense of all sorts of journalists who had asked naieve questions about his being a leader of his generation… why come back to that now?

No, I think it is Dylan saying to his friend, “you want one of those old songs, ok how about this?”

And this is the sort of thing only a great artist, secured in his position vis a vis his art, can get away with, because he can rise above any sort of criticism – and is also not beholden to a style any more than to a record company.  Of course he still had a record deal, but Dylan was financially secure, and he knew that if ever his record company turned on him again, he had a million other offers waiting.

But this is not to say that playing with ideas around this song isn’t itself a good idea.  There was one commentary I read that suggested that the entity that Dylan hated was his ability to write music – that he loved writing songs and creating new ideas, and when that ability left him in 1968 (when he wrote Lay Lady Lay but nothing else), he really resented it.

I don’t think it is true – but wow, what a clever idea.  It turned up on a web site from “Sharon”.  Obviously I can’t contact “Sharon” but I’d like to record my gratitude for really making me think and giving such an interesting perspective.

Other ideas that turned up include that it was an expression of Dylan’s regret and dislike of the fact that he took drugs for a while, or about his dislike of fame – that he loved fame and hated it at the same time, or even the relationship with Albert Grossman.

Anyway, that is often the sign of a great piece – that you can have multiple interpretations.  I somehow just like the comment about Bob getting old and soppy, and I love the notion that it is about the loss of his ability to write, and that is the strength of all this.  Out of one song you can get two such contradictory comments both of which can make one really think.

I have also read a review that suggests there is a link between this and “What was it you wanted” – one of my all time favourite Dylan songs.  That makes a lot of sense, and comparing the two songs is a fascinating study in itself – although I think I’ll save that for another day.

What is interesting though is that yet another review has Dirge as “probably one of the meanest, darkest and cruellest songs that Bob Dylan ever wrote.”  And yet I can see it as a response to a jesting line about how he has changed as he has got older.

But this review goes on to take the song line by line, and that seems to me to be the trouble.  Line by line analyses of songs are ok, but often miss the overall essence of the song.  It is a reason why I don’t favour the reviews that see songs from a religious basis as many (not all, but many) of them do tend to take a line and then point to the link between that line and a Biblical reference.  In all my years of studying literature, and my similar number of years of being a very, very, modest writer of books and songs, I’ve never found that this is how it happens to me.  And my few friends who have had far more success in either field than I have concurred.  It doesn’t normally work line by line.

But when one online reviewer said, “Only Bob Dylan could write something like this and pull it off,” I think I have to agree.  I just don’t think it has, “some good lessons for us about love and relationships.”

The writer of that comment continues, “Be with someone who is right for you and don’t waste your time in meaningless, empty relationship. It’s not worth the moments of glory, so just keep searching for your gem.”

Personally I prefer Stephen Stills “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one your with,” which he is reputed to have picked up from Billy Preston, and which probably came from “When I’m Not Near the Girl I Love, I Love the Girl I’m Near” – a song in Finian’s Rainbow.

But then I guess that’s just me.

So finally, to the music.  What makes me think straight off of “If your memory serves you well,” is the second part of each song.

Both songs start in a minor key (very unusual for Dylan) but then move into the major half way through.

So we have

No man alive will come to you  With another tale to tell
But you know that we shall meet again  If your memory serves you well

and

The stage was set, the lights went out all around the old hotel
I hate myself for loving you and I’m glad the curtain fell.

“This wheel’s on fire” was one of a collection of about 10 Dylan songs that were put on a tape and offered to artists with the promise that Dylan himself wouldn’t release them – and of course he earned a fortune from the many artists who have recorded the song.  But clearly there was a bit of it still lurking in his head at this time.

Moving from the minor to the major halfway through a piece is certainly not revolutionary in composition, but it is not that common in popular music.  In “This Wheel’s” Dylan goes from A minor up to C major.  In Dirge it is the other way, from D minor DOWN to B flat major – but the melody has similarities.

There is a very different feel about each song, of course, but a similar musical technique in the second half.

So there we have it.  Make of it as you wish – but all told, something of an out of place song on this album, but a very good song nonetheless.

The Untold Dylan open discussion group on Facebook

All the songs reviewed on this site

The songs in chronological order

Dylan’s opening lines: an index

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The Untold Dylan open discussion group on Facebook

It has for a long while bothered me that there is nowhere on this site for issues that fall outside the boundaries of the songs reviewed or the specific topics that have been brought up by friends of the site.

Of course if you feel there should be an article or series on a specific topic you can email me as always, but I wanted to see if there was any benefit in having a broader forum.

So I have created an Untold Dylan discussion group on Facebook.

At this moment I am the only member but I am hoping others will find it (just search for Untold Dylan) and maybe bring up issues that are on their minds vis a vis Dylan but which do not get mentioned within the confines of discussions on what is already on the site.

If you do find the group and want to encourage others to join, please do tell people, and write something.

Tony Attwood

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Tough Mama: Dylan taking us further down the road.

By Tony Attwood

Unlike some of his full-on years in the 1960s, 1973 for Dylan was a year primarily of writing, and then recording the songs that became Planet Waves.   Tough Mama was written after On a Night Like This – a song that has the same sort of upbeat, here it is, take it or leave it, charge-along and have-some-fun, approach to music and life.

It was recorded on November 6, along with  “Hazel,” and “Something There Is About You.”   Three songs about women and their mystery, although Tough Mama seems more confused about what’s going on and where the singer wants to be, than the other songs.

At the time of my writing this in 2016 Dylan has played it 44 times on stage.   So it didn’t get totally lost, but it is not a song to which Dylan is dedicated.

Musically it is very cleverly constructed, mixing two different styles in a way that runs smoothly but surprises.

It is in D and uses the sorts of chords you would expect, such as B minor and A.   But then at “His working days are through” Dylan sounds like he is modulating to another key, but isn’t only to hit us with a chord of C major resolving to G.

My point is that most of the song uses the normal chords of pop which derive from folk music.  The repeat of Tough Mama at the end uses the flattened seventh, taking us into a different style of music – more R&B than pop/folk.

This is indeed the way Dylan was writing at the time – song after song tricks us with its musical construction on this album – that, and the sound of the Band, are hallmarks of the style at this moment.

And what of the structure?  It is five straight verses.   No middle 8 to break it up, just five sung verses plus the instrumental verse.  Are they all about the same woman – the tough mama, dark beauty, sweet goddess, and silver angel?  Or is it all just a build up to the last verse where the opening changes to “I’m crestfallen” but returns at the very end to “Sweet Goddess.”

If I had to take a bet I’d say it’s a farewell song, the farewell coming completely in the fourth verse.  He’s addressed the woman in every way, and now marries her

Silver angel
With the badge of the lonesome road written on your sleeve
I’d be grateful if this golden ring you would receive

But then she goes away and nothing makes sense any more.

I’m crestfallen
The world of illusion is at my door

So he’s not going to perform to requirement, everything that held him in one place is gone – eternity stretches in front of him.   He’s had enough.  He’s not going to play any of his songs to the people who try and buy a piece of him.

I ain’t a-haulin’ any of my lambs to the marketplace anymore
The prison walls are crumbling, there is no end in sight

But what to do?   Everyone knows him, but he doesn’t want to do music any more

I’ve gained some recognition but I lost my appetite

But hey, here’s another woman – let’s just skip town and become anonymous.

Sweet beauty
Meet me at the border late tonight.

I’m sure that isn’t exactly right, because I think this is a song of Dylan’s in which the words come out without a necessary order and give us snapshots of the same situation from different perspectives without Dylan wanting to put all the lyrics into a single focus.  It is as much like the same situation seen from five different points of the compass as anything else.

There is no point on trying to work out exactly who “Sister” is and who the “steel driving crew” are or symbolically represent.  They are just symbols of a life gone by.

But we should not lose sight of the joyous, rebellious, challenging way Dylan sings the repeat of the first line in the penultimate line of each verse.  He’s punching the air with his fist – this is the sound of relief and release.

In a real sense the people sung about are shadows as the singer moves from place to place, moment to moment.  Who knows if they are real, invented, or memories?  And does it matter?  Not really.  He is just moving on.

One web site I read in preparing this little review suggested that “If you want to take things to more of an extreme, one might suggest that “Tough Mama” is the prologue to the epic that is “Isis”, where the narrator offers a golden ring and states that it’s his duty to take her to “the field where the flowers bloom” – that sounds like a meadow to me.”

I’m not sure on that one, I’m still hearing Tangled up in Blue, because in this song everything truly is tangled up – including all the different women, or all the different aspects of the same woman.

But I do take the point that the same reviewer made in saying. “Of course, the stuff of myth is one thing, but Dylan’s real life was already beginning to intrude on his songwriting, and it’s pretty tempting to read into a song like this and attempt to pick out elements that have to do with what was going on with Bob at this time in his life.

“Is he the Lone Wolf that “went out drinking – but that was over pretty fast”? (After all, once Bob hit the road again after his divorce, especially during both RTRs, the drinking would return with a vengeance.) What exactly does Dylan mean when he says he “stood alone upon the ridge, and all [he] did was watch”? Is he singing about himself when he says “I gained some recognition, but I lost my appetite” (surely a reference to his wilderness years)?”

Good questions all round.  Maybe someone has the answers.

All the songs reviewed on this site

The songs in chronological order

Articles about aspects of Dylan’s work

 

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If I was a king: the 1966 mystery song unravelled

By Tony Attwood

The Edlis Cafe  Facebook group introduces “If I Was a King” from Disc 18 of “Cutting Edge” thus…

The true test of a Dylanista is to transcribe all the words to If I Was A King on Disc 18 of Cutting Edge.

Can you?

And no I can’t.  Mind you my attempts to transcribe several other songs on this site have met with a fair amount of criticism (I’d say it is because I’m English, not American, they would have it that I can’t listen straight), and this song is just impossible to decode with certainty, although I know that one Dutch singer has issued a version of the song, so he’s obviously had a go.

But I can tell you a bit about the music – and give something of an insight into where the indistinct words are coming from.

The essence of the music comes from Absolutely Sweet Marie although obviously at a much slower tempo, and without any reference to the middle 8 that so particularly distinguishes Sweet Marie with its extraordinary change of key.

Now we know that Sweet Marie was recorded on 7 March 1966, in a single session.  The song, according to Heylin, was pretty much written when Dylan got to the studio and had just a few odds and ends in the lyrics to move around.  Heylin also tells us that the middle 8 (which as I pointed out in my review – see the link above – was of particular importance in the song) was added during the session.

Moving on to the North British Station Hotel, Glasgow, (which Heylin demotes to “a Glasgow hotel room) he tells us of “What kind of friend is this”, “I can’t leave her behind”, and “On a rainy afternoon” all being recorded but has not a single word to say anywhere on “If I was a king”.

But he does tell us that it was second cameraman in Pennebaker’s film unit along with film editor Howard Alk that got the recordings of Dylan and Robbie Robertson working on three “song ideas” (Helin’s italics – I am not sure why).

Heylin suggests some have said “What kind of friend is this” was possibly based on “What kind of man is this” by Koko Taylor.  This song was transcribed and copyrighted in 1978 – as were the other two Heylin mentions.  He notes that Dylan slides “in and out of coherence” in all three songs, but also says of the latter two songs, “Copywriting them as two separate songs is a slight swindle.  They are two streams drawn from the same river, as a more complete tape of the session… makes clear.”

Clearly “If I was a king” fits into this scenario – the lyrics being invented, mumbled, changed as we go along, but it wasn’t copyrighted, which suggests that maybe Dylan was remembering an old folk song – one might thing, an old Scottish folk song since that is where he was.

There are many folk songs from the British Isles that use the theme, for example, the Magpie’s Nest from Norfolk in East Anglia,

For if I was a king I would make you a queen,
I would roll you in my arms where the meadows they are green;
I would roll you in my heart’s content and I’d lay you down to rest
Long side my Irish colleen in the magpie’s nest.

This also turns up in Ireland as “The Magpie’s Nest” and has been often used by blues singers.  Blind Willie McTell for example sang,

“I once loved a woman better ‘ere than I ever seen.
Treated me like I was king an’ she was a doggone queen.”

It also turns up in “The Bonny Brier Bush” re-written by Robert Burns – and since Dylan was sitting in a hotel in the country where Burns is the national poet, and symbol of the nation’s identity, maybe that turned his mind to the subject.

But the fact that it has so many musical elements of Sweet Marie in it, and the fact that that Sweet Marie was recorded on 7 March 1966, two months before the Glasgow hotel sessions, suggests either:

a) Dylan had indeed taken part of Sweet Marie from the “If I was a king” ballad in the first place and was just going back to it now that he was in Scotland, or

b) Having written Sweet Marie he was just having a bit of fun seeing where else it could go or

c) He was subconsciously drawing on past musical phrases he had composed and half remembered folk songs.

This last may seem a bit far fetched, but I think virtually every composer will admit to having had moments in which he feels “wow – this is going to be a great piece” only to find (or have it pointed out) a little later that it is “rather like that song you did last year…”

When writing a song, the song gets deeply inside your head, it becomes part of you, it is you, but then as you write other songs it becomes harder and harder to know if that is just an idea or an actual song you’ve already done.

I can’t tell you which of the three options is true, nor why Heylin failed to mention the song in Revolution in the Air when he has spent so long and been so assiduous in tracking down each and every song.  He knows about the session, indeed he spends three pages on it, and yet…

Dylan’s round of song writing in March 1966 was frenetic and included (in as close to order of composition as I can place it)

plus the songs heard in May in the Scottish hotel.

It was an extraordinary round of writing – not least because of the way in which Dylan was seeking to explore and stretch the form of the music he was writing for the double album.

And these were extraordinary times.   The Glasgow and Edinburgh concerts followed straight on from the Judas concert, but contemporary reports suggest that in Glasgow Dylan’s new style was welcomed.  However there is a report that quite a few members of the audience in Edinburgh brought along harmonicas to play as a protest when the electric set began.  (That might be just a story – I found it in the Daily Record – but it is very Edinburgh, no matter if it is true or false).

Billboard, in reporting “If I Was a King”, says it seems “a bit quaint and old-fashioned compared to the more electrifying material he was recording in this same time frame.”  But then Dylan has often moved back and forth – and the fact that he chose to sing this song twice at this moment must tell us something.

Dylan didn’t play Sweet Marie in Edinburgh – but then… I am not sure if that tells me anything or not.  Having looked it up, I thought I’d report it!

Musically “If I was a king” is hardly revolutionary – a nice rotating melody and chord combination – and if you don’t hear the link with Sweet Marie, just play them one after the other.  If only Dylan had written “If I was a king” first we’d know that was a sketch for Sweet Marie, but with Bob it’s never that simple.

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Bob Dylan on this day: 20 April

Continuing the experiment with finding things Dylan did each day of the year.  If you know of any not included do write in and say.

20 April 1961: Bob Dylan played at Gerde’s Folk City, New York.

20 April 1966: Bob Dylan played the Festival Hall in Melbourne, Australia, starting with “She Belongs to Me” and ending with “Just like Thom Thumb’s Blues”

20 April 1980: Bob Dylan played Toronto on the Gospel Tour

20 April 1985, The charity record ‘We Are The World’ by USA For Africa was at No.1 on the UK singles chart. The US artists’ answer to Band Aid included Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Tina Turner, Bruce Springsteen, Diana Ross, Daryl Hall, Paul Simon, Huey Lewis, Ray Charles, Billy Joel, Michael Jackson.

20 April 2009: Bob Dylan performed Tough Mama live for the 44th and last time.

20 April 2009: The Cambridge Companion to Bob Dylan published by Cambridge University Press

20 April 2013: Bob Dylan released Wigwam / Thirsty Boots.  It was an unreleased demo of Wigwam, and the first Thirsty Boots recording to be released.

 

20 April 2016: Bob Dylan played Orchard Hall, Tokyo

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All the things Dylan did on 19 April

This is part of a continuing exploration to see if it is possible to create a Dylan Day by Day file.   We’re in the early days, but there is an index to the days covered so far.

I am certain I will have missed much of importance – please do help fill in the gaps, either by adding ideas for this page – or indeed any date in history.  Or if you have a book in which someone has already done this, let me know, and I’ll move to something more original.

19 April

  • 19 April 1961: There are two contrasting entries for this day.   Either Bob Dylan ends his residency at Hibbing High School, Minnesota which he began on 11 April or Bob Dylan performed at Gerde’s Folk City, New York.
  • 19 April 1966, Dylan played the Festival Hall Melbourne, Australia
  • 19 April 1980, Dylan played Toronto on the Gospel Tour
  • 19 April 1983, Dylan recorded in Studio A, at the Power Station, New York in a session produced by Mark Knopfler and Bob Dylan.  There were six versions of Neighbourhood Bully, plus a take of Green Onions and “Trees Hannibal Alps”
  • 19 April 1991: First live performance of New Morning, which went on to be played 79 times between now and 2006.  This show as at Saenger Performing Arts Center, New Orleans
  • 19 April 2005: Dylan performed at New Jersey Performing Arts Center, Newark
  • 19April 2012, Levon Helm, died of throat cancer aged 71.    He performed with the Hawks and the Band and sang on ‘The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,’ ‘Up on Cripple Creek,’ ‘Rag Mama Rag,’ and ‘The Weight.’
  • 19 April 2015: Dylan performed at Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts, Orlando, Florida
  • 19 April 2016: Dylan performed at Orchard Hall, Tokyo, Japan.

All the songs (over 250) reviewed on this site

The songs in chronological order

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Something there is about you: Dylan’s 1973 renaissance and the journey Tangled Up.

By Tony Attwood

“A lover out there; I recall.”

It could be the title for the collection of the 1973 songs in which Dylan deals with current love and past love.  It is of course the heartbeat of a billion songs throughout the history of popular music, but these songs were more than just delightful pieces by a great songwriter.

For these were the sketches and notebooks in which he worked towards the solution of how to write on the theme of past, present and future loves all at once, and at a level of utter perfection.

And here, in these songs we are seeing the opening steps, the initial thoughts, the first considerations, that finally led us to Tangled up in Blue the following year.   We had to wait while he made these notes and worked on these ideas, but oh wasn’t it worthwhile?

Thus we should not dismiss these sketches on the road to a masterpiece, for these 1973 songs are certainly worth a listen.  In order of composition they are…

Of course they are not all dealing with the same subject precisely – but given a bit of time, and some relief from the roar of the world around, we can surely hear little bits and pieces that ultimately turned one year on into “Early one morning the sun was shining,” that ultimate, ultimate opening line repost to Robert Johnson’s “Well I work up this morning, blues falling down like hail.”  It took 36 years to get from Johnson’s bleak opener, to Dylan’s warm answer, but it sure was worth waiting for.

That these songs from the year before Tangled up in Blue were sketches comes not just from my own personal judgement (which of course can readily and easily be challenged any day of the week) but from the fact that none of these songs became key parts of Dylan shows.

Never say goodbye is shown as never being sung by Dylan on stage (my figures coming from BobDylan.com), Hazel seven times, Nobody cept you eight times, Something there is about you 26 and Going, going, gone, 79, but this latter total was, I am sure, down to the multiple re-writes of both music and lyric.  I have tried to give examples in my review of that particular song (see the link in the list above).

Something there is about you,  lasted as a tour song between Jan 74 and Feb 78, but even so, got few outings, and it does have one most interesting musical feature, in which the bassist plays around with the notion of the complete descending bass.

Step by step bass lines are something Dylan particularly likes, starting on the key note and slowly rising up (as in Rolling Stone) or declining (as in Is your love in vain).   But there are two things that really make this stand out – the bassist keeps varying what he does, and only on occasion does he deliver the whole eight note run.

In verse one for example we get a partial descending bass with gaps

Something there is about you that strikes a match in me
Is it the way your body moves or is it the way your hair blows free?
Or is it because you remind me of something that used to be
Somethin’ that crossed over from another century?

And the last line gives us the clue musically and lyrically of where we are going – not now from the descending bass but from the lyrics.  To my mind the lyrics are generally interesting, but not really spectacular.   But that “another century” instantly makes me think on to the “Italian poet from the thirteenth century.”   Dylan was indeed getting ready to paint his masterpiece, one year ahead.

In the second verse the bassist is playing with us again, and has jumps in the descent – until he gives in at the last

Thought I’d shaken the wonder and the phantoms of my youth
Rainy days on the Great Lakes, walkin’ the hills of old Duluth
There was me and Danny Lopez, cold eyes, black night and then there was Ruth
Something there is about you that brings back a long-forgotten truth

The descent of the bass is finally there, down to the recovery of the long-forgotten truth.

And that long-forgotten truth is….?

Maybe just lying there “Wond’ring if she’d changed it all”.  Maybe it was “standing on the side of the road, Rain falling on my shoes” paying the dues at the crossroads yet again.  Maybe it’s “”Jimmy, Don’t I know your name ?””

Or maybe it is just that book of poems Written by an Italian poet  From the thirteenth century.

But we also have to ask, in passing, who are these people referenced here?  Danny Lopez is another boxing reference from Dylan – the world champion featherweight, and apparently very popular in his day.

Plus here’s a nice extra: Danny is married to Bonnie Lopez and has three sons, Bronson, Jeremy, and… Dylan.

Moving on, in 1994 Ruth Tyrangiel served Bob Dylan him with a $5m law suit, claiming they had lived as husband and wife for 17 years. The case apparently was ultimately settled out of court.  I, obviously, can’t verify any of that.

And so from me that’s it.  The lyrics of this song don’t leap out and stick in my brain, the song has none of the amazing expression of the middle 8 of Going going gone.  Yep, that’s it – but it was, I am sure, part of the movement into Tangled.

As I say, that’s it.  Except that on 27 March 2008 Tara Brabazon, professor of media studies at the University of Brighton (wherein I spent three years) published an article in the Times Higher Education Supplement under the title “Something there is about you”.  It’s not about the song – it is about her husband, Bob Dylan, and (in particular) Scorsese.  Worth a read.  I thought I’d mention it since we’ve reached this song.

All the songs reviewed on this site

The songs in chronological order

The Dylan anniversary list – it has only just started, but it’s getting there

 

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What Bob Dylan’s done on 18 April through the years.

I am continuing the experiment of trying to build a little record of Bob’s activities (and related Dylan events) each day through the year.  This is the third date I’ve tried – 18 April

18 April 1961: Dylan played Gerde’s Folk City, New York.

18 April 1968: Staple singers include Hard Rain in their set at the Filmore Auditorium, San Francisco.

18 April 1976: First of 79 live performances of Going Going Gone, and the first performance of Idiot Wind and If you see her say hello, Seven Days and Shelter from the Storm. At Lakeland, FLorida.

18 April 1980 Toronto on the Gospel Tour

18 April 1983: Dylan recorded at the Studio A, Power Station, New York City, There were six takes and 12 false starts of Sweetheart like You, and two takes of Blind Willie McTell.

18 April 2003 Dylan performed the Granada Theater, Dallas.

18 April 2014, Dylan played Nagoya, Japan

18 April 2015: Dylan played St Augustine Amphitheatre, St Augustine, Florida.

18 April 2016, Dylan played Tokyo, Japan.

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Bob Dylan on this day: 17 April

by Tony Attwood

Yesterday I started a little experiment to see if I could find a few anniversaries of events in Bob Dylan’s life just for that specific day.

It seemed quite an interesting thing to do, because it gave me a few perspectives that I hadn’t picked up on in writing the reviews, so I decided to continue a bit further.  Here is 17 April.

The 16 April listing is of course still on the site

  • 17 April 1965.   The Freewheelin Bob Dylan entered the British charts on 23 May 1964 and reached number one on this day  
  • 17 April 1980: Dylan played Toronto on the “Gospel Tour” and gave the first live performance of Ain’t gonna go to hell for anybody.
  • 17 April 2002:  The 329th and final performance of “In the Garden”
  • 17 April 2005: Final live performance of “It takes a lot to laugh it takes a train to cry.”  It was the 160th performance.
  • 17 April 2015 – Bob Dylan Live at the North Charleston Performing Arts Center

If you have anything to add, please do send it in.  Tony.Attwood@aisa.org

Bob Dylan on this day: 16 April

 

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