By Tony Attwood, delving a little further and comparing some of the recordings from the Never Ending Tour, based on the comprehensive NET series by Mike Johnson (for which there is an index here).
“Hard Rain’s a gonna fall” is of course one of the absolute classics of the Dylan collection and again we have the chance of putting together a snapshot of just how the song has changed over the decades. And inevitably there is a surprise lurking – of course, because this is Dylan.
The song was written in 1962 so by 1988, the date of our first example here, this classic song was already over a quarter of a century old, and Bob has started putting in the accents on specific words, breaking up the song into a series of exclamations, each of which demands its own “!” at the end. The melody is irrelevant the declaiming of the message is everything.
Except that we get the most delicate of instrumental verses as if to say, us poor, wretched children of the earth are still sitting here, subject to the horrors our leaders have poured forth upon our land. We’ve done nothing wrong, but we always suffer.
1988
Now, going on a further 15 years to 2003 (below), there’s more involvement of Bob: he’s been there and seen it all. It is almost as if the hard has started falling.
And yet, and yet, there is a delicacy, amidst the sorrow and horror. Somehow the song now seems to be saying a hard rain is going to fall, but also at the same time we are in the midst of that hard rain. The nearest image I can find what Bob is doing is that he is tearing his hair out: it will happen, it has happened, it will be here, it is already here.
The instrumental break is one of the most comprehensive and well arranged I’ve heard for this song, and it keeps on building and building the power, before taking us right back down ready for that build up until he is standing on the ocean. The reaction of the audience shows just how much power they see and feel and hear.
2003
So the question arises: where on earth does one go after that? 12 years on we get to 2015 and Bob has taken those accents as part of the song, but added extra bars into the chorus to spread the message out somewhat.
It is now as if it is all over; we have been warned but we have not listened, and now in our older days we look back on the warnings of the past that we ignored.
Somehow the old man now really is talking to his blue eyed son: the grandfather listening to the tales of the younger generation who don’t quite realise what the old man has himself lived through.
The lilting accompaniment throughout reminds me of the old timer sitting in the rocking chair surrounded by the generations that have followed him (although I must stress no one has bought me a rocking chair yet, and I’m glad of that).
Just listen to the deepest dark forest verse: he’s been there and seen it, and is now is retiring from the world. He can still rage against the machine, but he knows his time has been and gone.
2015
Yes, really, he foretold what would happen, and it did, and all we can now do is reflect on how we failed to stop them.
XIX Burping and belching and other bodily functions
Get lost Madam - get up off my knee
Keep your mouth away from me
I’ll keep the path open - the path in my mind
I’ll see to it that there’s no love left behind
I play Beethoven sonatas Chopin’s preludes... I contain multitudes
In Dylan’s appreciation of so-called high culture, we see the ordinary, somewhat banal development as we see it in the bulk of the world’s population: as a young lad he kicks against it, in middle age he recognises its value, as an older man he is not embarrassed to vent his admiration loud and clear. Measurable, for instance, in Dylan’s evolution of qualifications for a poet like T.S. Eliot. Soft-boiled egg shit Dylan still calls his oeuvre in the 1960s, “aloof”, unworldly and unnecessarily complicating he judges in the 1970s (in an interview with Philip Fleishman, February 1978, i.e. when Dylan is already 36), but only seven years later Dylan places T.S Eliot in a line-up with Elvis Presley and Albert Camus, in the list of artists who had a big impact on me (Biograph interview with Cameron Crowe, 1985). And in the twenty-first century, in Chronicles (2004), the autobiographer, now past sixty, confesses: “I liked T.S. Eliot. He was worth reading.” Two years later, the radio DJ Dylan admiringly quotes the first 11 lines of Eliot’s “The Waste Land” on his radio programme Theme Time Radio Hour.
The appreciation of classical music in general, and Beethoven in particular, has developed identically. In its creative output initially no more than an empty name-check (Ma Rainey and Beethoven in “Tombstone Blues”, “Nucleur Beethoven” in Tarantula), and downright adolescent in a Danish press conference in 1966, in which a wanton Dylan turns the tables and starts interviewing the journalists present. Including an unnamed female journalist:
“And your favorite music” he asked a woman reporter. “What’s your favorite music?”
“Beethoven,” she replied in a cultured voice, “I’m very fond of Beethoven’s Symphonies.”
“Yes, but I was thinking more of your favorite music,” Dylan continued.
“But it is Beethoven,” the woman repeated rather brusquely.
“Oh come on,” said Dylan, “what’s your favorite music?”
A bit awkward, all in all. But certainly not an act; in his autobiography, the elder Dylan recalls finding a Beethoven record in the record cabinet as a young lad in New York at one of his lodgings;
“Once I put on Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata — it was melodic, but then again, it sounded like a lot of burping and belching and other bodily functions. It was funny — sounded almost like a cartoon.”
Equally awkward is disqualifying a beyond category masterpiece like the Pathétique as “funny” and “sounding like burping and belching and other bodily functions”. Though that may have been laid on a bit thicker, obviously, by the reflecting older Dylan, some 40 years after the fact.
We see a cautious turnaround in the mid-1970s, when Beethoven is admitted to the soundtrack of Renaldo & Clara (in the twelfth scene, when “Bob Dylan” tries to persuade the young attractive brunette to join him, the Mondscheinsonate plays in the background). The bashing of classical music is over after that, and in the twenty-first century, once Dylan passes 60, the sentiment has turned 180 degrees. Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” opens episode 32 of Theme Time Radio Hour (“Moon”), and in The Philosophy Of Modern Song, Dylan acknowledges the melodic magic and influence of classical music when he discusses “My Prayer” by The Platters. “Here are some other pop songs based on classical melodies,” he writes, and then lists “All By Myself”, Paul Simon’s “American Tune” and the evergreen “Can’t Help Falling in Love”. A list, incidentally, that he could have expanded by multitudes.
Finally, on Rough And Rowdy Ways, classical music in general, and Beethoven in particular, is alpha and omega. “I play Beethoven sonatas Chopin’s preludes” says the narrator here in the opening song “I Contain Multitudes”, and at the end of the majestic finale “Murder Most Foul” the narrator requests to play Moonlight Sonata in F-sharp. Unequivocal appreciation; Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No 14 is listed between Roosevelt Sykes’ “Driving Wheel” and Little Walters’ “Key To The Highway” – between pieces of music that the narrator regards as unrelenting, comforting and beautiful masterpieces. Although the addition in F-sharp remains a bit puzzling; the piece is in C-sharp minor, just like Chopin’s ultra-short, virtuoso Prelude 10 and Prelude Op. 45, for that matter. Just as the grammatical peculiarity of writing Beethoven sonatas without possessive ‘s on the one hand, and Chopin’s preludes with possessive ‘s on the other (in the official publication of the lyrics on bobdylan.com) is a bit puzzling as well. Apparently, Dylan now sees the name Beethoven as something like a brand name or a predicate, something like Ford cars or Hitchcock movies. And Chopin does not yet have that status. Perhaps Chopin’s preludes still sound too much like burping and belching to him, who knows?
Then again, Dylan should of course not have listened so much to the preludes as to the etudes. And especially No. 3 (Etude Op. 10), the etude that also inspired an immortal pop song based on a classical melody, which benefited The Platters as well, who scored a world hit with it in 1959: “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” (Kern/Harbach). DJ Dylan plays Coleman Hawkins’ heartbreaking, instrumental version when he opens episode 58 (“Smoking”) of his Theme Time Radio Hour in November 2007 with it, but at home in his record cabinet, The Platters’ sung version is likely to be a little further in front. In the sung version, after all, we again hear multitudes;
Now, laughing friends deride tears I cannot hide
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, so I smile and say
"When a lovely flame dies
Smoke gets in your eyes"
Yep, I play Beethoven’s sonatas Chopin’s etudes might have been a slightly more personal finale.
To be continued. Next up I Contain Multitudes part 20: The elegance of Euler’s identity
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Jochen is a regular reviewer of Dylan’s work on Untold. His books, in English, Dutch and German, are available via Amazon both in paperback and on Kindle:
Aaron: The first recording of the song was in November 1926 by Blind Blake, and here it is
Tony:Blind Blake is one of those blues artists of whose life little is recorded, and indeed many of the pieces of information we have are contradicted in other references to him. But we do know he lived from 1896 and died aged just 38. His proper name was Arthur Blake and the recordings that are left were made between 1926 and 1932. But otherwise… even his mother’s name is open to debate.
As you can hear from this recording he was a fine guitarist, but as was the way with so many black blues singers of the era, he was reduced to playing for money in the streets in the latter part of his life.
Aaron: According to the SecondHandSongs website it doesn’t look like this song was performed much beyond that recording above. Here is one from 1976 by Harry Tuft.
Tony:This version finds all the beauty that there is inherent in the original, and then adds some more. It’s a gorgeous rendition, keeping the blues feel but adding layers on top of that. And indeed, Harry Tuft’s voice helps enormously. He was also closely associated with the Denver Folklore Centre, which was very close to his heart – and indeed Denver has, I believe, recognised all that he has done.
Aaron: Bob’s version was included on his 1992 album Good as I Been to You.
Tony:I think Dylan is revealing here a very high level of respect for the history of this song, and the result really is remarkable, both in terms of how Dylan uses his voice and the guitar accompaniment. It absolutely comes over to me that he is wanting us all to know the song and its origins; it’s all about the song, not about Bob Dylan.
Aaron: There have only been a handful of versions since then, the best of which for me is by the New Orleans jazz band Tuba Skinny from 2019.
Tony: More fun… especially when the band comes in just before the one-minute mark – I’ve not heard this before and that certainly was something of a surprise. But a very pleasant one. It’s very well done; seems to fit perfectly. Do stay with this recording all the way through – the band get so much out of the piece without ever losing sight of its origins and meaning.
(T)he chief of police holding a bazooka
with his name engraved on it, coming in
drunk and putting the barrel into the face
of the lawyer's pig, once a wife beater, he
became a professional boxer & received a club foot
he would literally like to become an executioner
what he doesn't know
is that the lawyer's pig has made friends with the senator
* * *
(T)he lawyer leading a pig on a lease
stopping in for tea
& eating the censor's donut by mistake/
he likes to lie about his age
& takes his paranoia seriously
* * *
(T)he good Samaritan coming in with the
words 'round & round we go' tattooed on
his cheek/ he tells the senator to stop
insulting the lawyer/ he would like to be an entertainer
& brags that he is one of the best strangers around, the
pig jumps on him & starts eating his face
(Bob Dylan: Tarantula)
Thee Falcon
It’s rather obvious that “Pogo” cartoonist Walt Kelly draws greedy US Attorney General – John Mitchell – as a two-faced eaglet-beaked lawyer, and a pipe-puffing Watergater.
Likewise ~
Richard Nixon: as Indian Charlie/as well as a spidery teapot
John Edgar Hoover: as a Bulldog with a gun
Not so clear be the characters, whether they’re real or imagined, who’re displayed in print in the satirical ‘Tarantula’ by Bob Dylan.
However, the word-begotten image of the lawyer therein can be easily construed as a dishonet John Mitchell archetype:
(T)he lawyer leading a pig on a lease
stopping in for tea
& eating the censor's donut by mistake
he likes to lie about his age
& takes his paranoia seriously
(Bob Dylan: Tarantula)
Clearly, FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover’s portrayed as a Bulldog by Kelly.
In the Watergate scandal of its day, the oil reserves at Wyoming’s Teapot Dome are secretly auctioned off by Albert Fall, President Harding’s Secretary of the Interior.
Bulldog smells something:
(T)he chief of police holding a bazooka
with his name engraved on it
coming in drunk
& putting the barrel into the face of the lawyer's pig
.... he would literally like to become an executioner
what he doesn't know is that the lawyer's pig
has made friends with the senator
(Bob Dylan: Tarantula)
Could that someone waiting round the corner be “wild cat” senator Joe McCarthy?:
(T)he senator dressed
like an austrian sheep
stopping in for coffee
(Bob Dylan: Tarantula)
Nixon drawn by Walt depicts a crowned teapot with spider legs .
The aforementioned rock called the “Tea Dome” is cartooned-scaped into the elephant logo of the Republican Party.
I found it hard to think of too many cover versions of this song that actually seemed to take us somewhere both new and interesting, but then on getting into the subject a little, I realised how wrong I was.
Willie Nile just gives it a rocking beat and the band shouting out occasional lines to bring us a version that is just plain fun. It’s the sort of thing that I loved to play on stage; it really just allows the band to enjoy what they are doing. The shouting out of the occasional words at the end of lines is just amusing rather than carrying any meaning, and that’s what the song should be. I love this version.
So then by total contrast The Golden Gate Strings. Which raises the question, how on earth do you write an orchestration for a song that has hardly any melody? And here is the answer – which amazingly they keep going all the way through the performance; and it holds my attention throughout.
Actually what I think is really wonderful is that they do it without varying the original song too much. Yes there is a key change which isn’t in the original of course because Dylan doesn’t do that, and it is under two minutes long, but even so, it’s a fantastic response to an impossible challenge.
With Theo Hakola we have a fine, controlled voice, which only once or twice stumbles over the impossibility of the constant stream of words that have nothing to do with the beat. Not at all sure about the video; if I were the musician behind such a performance and found this was what they created, I’d have objected in the strongest terms. It doesn’t do justice to the inventiveness of the music.
https://youtu.be/DaXD9Pldfbw
There are of course so many covers of this song I’m avoiding those that simply take Dylan’s version and replay it. So much more can be done with this song, as Koby Israelite shows. And please don’t listen to a few seconds and then think “OK got that, time to move on.” Really, you have to listen to this all the way through.
I am really puzzled by the album cover though, but then I’m not an art critic – in fact I’m just about the last person in the world you’d ask to comment on visual art. And on this version, I’m happy to do that. As I said above, do listen to the end: the coda is short but worth staying awake for.
Still looking for the unusual and the unexpected here is Hal Aqua, and here my musical knowledge lets me down, so time to quote from their web site: “Hal Aqua and The Lost Tribe play klezmer fusion music — an exuberant musical experience, rooted firmly in traditional Jewish modes and melodies and driven by contemporary rhythms and danceable grooves.”
OK got it.
And to round it all off, Dave Stewart and Barbara Gaskin. One of my favourites, because they so successfully keep so much of the original while creating something that really does give me a whole range of new insights into the song.
Get lost Madam - get up off my knee
Keep your mouth away from me
I’ll keep the path open - the path in my mind
I’ll see to it that there’s no love left behind
I play Beethoven sonatas Chopin’s preludes . . .
I contain multitudes
“Your mind well trained and cased / In Spanish boots, all snugly laced, / So that henceforth it can creep ahead / On the road of thought with a cautious tread.”
Werner Heisenberg, the brilliant physicist with philosophical depth, is a fan of Goethe’s Faust, and quotes with approval from Mephisto’s dialogue with a student. He appreciates (and probably recognises), the sarcasm of the Devil, who, like Heisenberg, knows that the path of reason, language, can never lead to Truth – language is rather limited, and can only describe inaccurately and vaguely. “Gray, worthy friend, is all your theory,” as Mephisto says.
A word like “path”, for example, has been a popular and seasoned metaphor in every culture and religion for centuries. But for theoretical physics, it is far too inaccurate, incorrect even, as Heisenberg regretfully but lucidly explains to us. “All those words we used in classical physics,” he explains to interviewer David Peat in the early 1970s, “position, velocity, energy, temperature, etcetera, have only a limited range of applicability.” Illustrating that frustrating limited range using the word “path”:
“A word such as path is quite understandable in the ordinary realm of physics when we are dealing with stones, or grass, etc., but it is not really understandable when it has to do with electrons. In a cloud chamber, for instance, what we see is not the path of an electron, but, if we are quite honest, only a sequence of water droplets in the chamber.”
(Buckley & Peat: Glimpsing Reality: Ideas in Physics and the Link to Biology, 1979)
Heisenberg is not only a brilliant physicist, founder of quantum mechanics and father of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, but also a fascinating thinker. The above quote is from a long interview, in which, among other things, he dwells at length on the inadequacy of language, insightfully demonstrating his affinity in that area with philosophers such as Plato, Wittgenstein and Kant; “Even in the old times philosophers realized that language is limited” –the interview is in fact a manageable summary of his brilliant 1958 essay Physik und Philosophie.
In that essay, he is slightly more nuanced about language. Its limitations, as both Heisenberg and Dylan realise, concern the extent to which words “correspond to reality,” as Heisenberg says, “whether they fit reality or not”;
“A secondary meaning of a word which passes only vaguely through the mind when the word is heard may contribute essentially to the content of a sentence. The fact that every word may cause many only half-conscious movements in our mind can be used to represent some part of reality in the language much more clearly than by the use of the logical patterns. Therefore, the poets have often objected to this emphasis in language and in thinking on the logical pattern, which – if I interpret their opinions correctly – can make language less suitable for its purpose.”
Dylan and Heisenberg are kindred spirits. His “philosophical treatise” The Philosophy Of Modern Song (2022), his autobiography Chronicles (2004), and interviews over the decades show that it continues to fascinate him – the inadequacy of language, the pitfalls of ambiguity and its mysterious camouflage capacities. “Robert Johnson’s code of language was like nothing I’d heard before or since,” for instance, and “it was as if he was saying something to me in a foreign language,” as he notes in Chronicles – between the many descriptions of his attempts to master the “lingo”, or “language”, or “rhetoric” of admired writers and artists.
But tricky it remains, Dylan analyses in Philosophy: “Language isn’t the only bar to understanding each other—there is inflection and implication,” as he also shows an awareness of the danger in the No Direction Home interview (2005) with Jeff Rosen, putting Dylan completely in line with Heisenberg’s 1958 words:
“Words have their own meaning, or they have different meanings and words change their meaning. Words that meant something 10 years ago don’t mean that now. They mean something else.”
“Language is a dangerous instrument to use,” Heisenberg even says. But does – of course – have value nevertheless. Language can have an integral, a complementary function to talk about, say, the uncertainty principle or about the structure of atoms. Then language is “quite satisfactory”, Heisenberg argues,…
“… since it reminds us of a similar use of the language in daily life or in poetry. We realize that the situation of complementarity is not confined to the atomic world alone; we meet it when we reflect about a decision and the motives for our decision or when we have the choice between enjoying music and analyzing its structure.”
And it is just as much a pleasant characteristic, of course, the ambiguity and the different meanings and the changing implications. Which a poet like Dylan, who is so good at keeping things vague, as Joan Baez says, exhausts to the full. Heisenbergs “path” is a good example indeed. In Dylan’s oeuvre, we encounter that term, or synonyms like road, way, row, street dozens of times. From the early 60s (“Paths Of Victory“, My pathway led by confusion boats from “My Back Pages”), and the 70s and 80s (a pathway that leads up to the stars in “Where Are You Tonight?”, an untrodden path in “I And I”, a path of retreat in “Angelina”) to the twenty-first century (the pathways of life in “When The Deal Goes Down”, for example). Metaphorical it pretty much always is, but here, in this last verse of “I Contain Multitudes”, path takes on an almost metaphysical charge:
I’ll keep the path open - the path in my mind
I’ll see to it that there’s no love left behind
… “the path in my mind”, or “die Gedankenbahn, the road of thought”, as Mephisto calls it in Faust, over which you, encased in Spanish boots, go to find the Truth – where word choice lends a well-nigh Buddhist vibe to these concluding words. At least, trendsetters like both Siddharta, who tries to clear his mind;
“He walked the path of eradication of ego through meditation, using thought to empty the mind of all its notions.” (Hermann Hesse, Siddharta, 1922)
… and John Lennon in his exercise in Eastern mysticism, “Across The Universe” (Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind) coin the connection. Which gives Dylan’s ambiguous follow-up line, I’ll see to it that there’s no love left behind, a slight push towards a positive interpretation. On paper, written, a blunt, resentful final line under a relationship, from a spiteful ex-lover looking back on the just-broken relationship without any affection. But the Buddhist might read: “I am setting off to find my better self, taking all my love with me. Nothing is left behind” – a reading that seems to be confirmed by Dylan’s peaceful, unshaken recital.
On which – of course – Mephisto has another sarcastic opinion:
Thou art at last—just what thou art.
Pile perukes on thy head whose curls cannot be counted,
On yard-high buskins let thy feet be mounted,
Still thou art only what thou art. (Goethe, Faust I, 1808)
You can, he means, go away and leave everything behind – but you’ll always take yourself with you.
To be continued. Next up I Contain Multitudes part 19: Burping and belching and other bodily functions
Jochen is a regular reviewer of Dylan’s work on Untold. His books, in English, Dutch and German, are available via Amazon both in paperback and on Kindle:
By Tony Attwood, delving a little further and comparing some of the recordings from the Never Ending Tour, based on the comprehensive NET series by Mike Johnson (for which there is an index here).
In the first piece in this series comparing performances across the ages I looked at Frankie Lee and Judas Priest. Now, it’s Visions.
1966
The first recording below is just about the earliest recording I can find from the Never Ending Tour of “Visions of Johanna”, and although it is an acoustic version the emphasis made on certain words, and slight changes in the melody are there for all to hear. There is also a spaced out feel to the performance in which the tempo is not only slower than I expected, but in which there is a feel that absolutely nothing is going to speed up the events that are portrayed here. They exist outside of the song; the music is merely an accompaniment.
Indeed there is a remorselessness of this version which is almost painful. Of course 50+ years later we know the song inside out, but hearing this early live version again I felt no impatience; I am in there, trapped in this strange world of images that I feel I have only ever partially grasped. This is half way between beauty and being entrapped.
But beyond everything I have this absolute feeling that nothing, but nothing will pull us out of this world. I am trapped, Johanna is trapped, Bob is trapped, and this wonderfully silent audience is trapped. As such that final verse with its extra lines wraps us all inside it, completely. No wonder the audience explode into applause while Bob quickly retunes the guitar for the next song.
Secondly, we jump forward to 2011. The song is now 45 years old, but Bob still has something for us. The melody has changed somewhat and there are emphases on individual words as he likes to do, but just listen to what he does with
Lights flicker from the opposite loft In this room the heat pipes just cough The country music station plays soft But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
It is half spoken half sung before he comes to the “so entwined” line – I really do have the feeling here that he has never played the song to an audience before, although of course we know that he has clocked up over 200 performances of the song on the tour.
But it not just Bob; the accompaniment is played with as well, as if we are now being told about the world that bounces around in the background. In fact I am reminded of a painting where the main character remains the same while in the background we now have a totally different environment. Whereas before there was nothing, there was only Bob and the song, now we are in a gentle countryside. And yes of course I know that Johanna is still in her room – but it is a case of where that room now is. I certainly isn’t where she was before.
2015
Bob stopped playing the song in 2018 (at least at the time of writing, that is when the last live performance is noted), so this is one of the later visits to the song.
And once again we know immediately where we are and what this is, even though it is a stronger version. And this version makes me think this is not a re-arrangement of the original, but a re-arrangement of the 2011 version.
But above everything I hear a real affection from Bob for this composition – as Bob is saying, “yes I know she’s been with me for getting on 50 years, but I am allowed to think back to the old days, and all the people I knew then. And I still hold her in the deepest affection.”
And it really makes me wonder what it must be like to have carried a composition one created in the early days, and still have it to perform all these years later.
What can it be like to sing, after all those years, “These visions of Johanna are all that remain,” as one did 50 years before? I always feel Bob is still thinking about his lyrics as he delivers them over and over again across the years, and in a very small way I think listening to these recordings from different moments in the tour gives me just a little more insight into what it is like to take one final look at a very old friend.
In the end we are left with our memories. If we are lucky, they grow softer and we think of our lives a little more fondly than before. The battles have been fought, we’ve fallen apart, there’s nothing more to do but sit in the sun and wait for the end.
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There is an index to our current series and recent articles on the home page of this site. We also have our Facebook page if you are looking for more discussions.
Details of our current series and a link to the latest article in each series can be found on the home page. A list of all the articles in this “Other people’s songs” series is at the foot of this piece.
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Other people’s songs: Blackjack Davey by Aaron Galbraith and Tony Attwood
Aaron: In this ballad, a lady abandons her husband and children to go with the gypsy. She is pursued by her husband, but refuses to return home, preferring the life with her new found love.
Child considered this ballad to be historically based on the expulsion of the gypsies from Scotland in 1609, and the hanging of a prominent gypsy, Johnny Faa, for returning to or failing to leave Scotland. There is no account, however, of any expelled gypsy taking a great lady.
Here is what I believe to be the first recorded version by John Jacob Niles from 1938 where it is known as The Gipsy Laddie.
Tony:That is an amazing recording which I’ve not heard before. Utterly extraordinary – normally I restrict myself to listening to each recording just the once as I write about it but this time I’ve listened twice. It is quite extraordinary in terms of the range of the vocalist.
Aaron:The following year the Carlisle Brothers upped the tempo for the 1939 single Black Jack David
Tony: I think it is always good to be reminded that the tradition of re-writing and re-arranging songs goes right back through the history of folk music. There are still people who occasionally criticise Bob Dylan for “taking” other people’s songs, or traditional songs and re-creating them, but he is just continuing the long-standing tradition of folk music. This is another really good fun version of the song. I’m really enjoying this…
Aaron: Bob’s version was included on his 1992 album Good as I Been to You.
Tony: Bob puts a big emphasis on the end of each line not least by playing the whole piece in the minor key ending the first line on a minor chord instead of a major as often happens – and indeed as we heard in the first two versions above.
Aaron: The White Stripes version appears as the B-side of the 7 Nation Army single in 2003…
Tony: I loved these White Stripes recordings from this era; this whole notion of the pounding percussion of Meg and that unique guitar approach of Jack. Thanks for reminding of it. Time to get all the recordings out again; what an amazing sound that duet made.
Aaron: This year Van Morrison included it on his latest album Moving on Skiffle
Tony:The trouble is that for me after hearing the Stripes again nothing is going to compare. There’s nothing wrong with Van Morrison’s version, but it just sounds rather tame after the Stripes. As would anything.
But I am going to subvert the show somewhat by taking the name of this article and link to the wonderful Backjack Gypsies. I loved their inventiveness and power. Rick Becksted passed away earlier this year and their site has a tribute to him at the moment. I know I’m stretching the links between Aaron’s starting point, but then in a real sense that has always been part of the series. Hope you enjoy this final piece and the band if you don’t know their work.
In this series I attempt to show that analyses of Dylan’s songs that focus just on the lyrics can miss the point. It is the combination of this music with these lyrics that makes the songs as memorable and important as they are.
Nowhere is this more so that in “Gates of Eden” for here, the nine verses of the song Eden are identical, musically. What’s more, the first two lines of each verse are musically identical and rhyme with each other. But then the oddness begins
Of war and peace the truth just twists, its curfew gull, it glides Upon four-legged forest clouds the cowboy angel rides With his candle lit into the sun, though its glow is waxed in black All except when 'neath the trees of Eden
What happens is that the third line stands alone – different melody, different chords. And then the fourth line then is repeated at the end of each verse – there is no attempt at rhyme for the last two lines and although the fourth line varies, it always ends “of Eden” – which gives us that anchor point before we venture into the uncertainty of each new verse.
And that is not all that is unusual. The song has a lilting beat which musically is best described as 6/8, which means each bar of music runs 1 2 3 1 2 3, with the heaviest beat on the first “1” and a lesser beat on the second “1”
12 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3 12 3 12 3 123 123
Of war and peace the truth just twists, its curfew gull, it glides
It is a persistent pulse that underscores the whole song and which holds the song together musically, along with that consistent rhyme which runs A A B C – another real oddity.
This is all very unusual indeed for anything in the folk or pop music genre, and it gives us a sense of unease because it is not what we expect (although of course if like me you have heard the song a thousand times or more, that disappears over time, but still leaves an edge).
For what we have is a fast 6/8 time, which is unusual for this type of music, a rhyme system of A A B C, which is very unusual indeed, plus a melody in the first line which is repeated in the second line, but then abandoned in the third line with its descending melody, and which in the fourth and final line of each verse is virtually lost totally as the title line is held on virtually one note.
Put all of this together and we have a most curious combination: words that at least at first don’t seem to make sense, the unusual 6/8 time signature, the unusual rhyme system, the repeating melody of the first two lines replaced in the last line of each verse with just the one note except at the very end of “of Eden”.
In my view, it is this musical arrangement of the lyrics that allows the song to work. Because the lyrics are extremely obtuse we need both a certainty of where we are (hence the repeat of the music of the first line in the second line) and a regularity of the song (every verse is musically the same and ends with the same line).
But the song would not work at all if the music was commonplace and it certainly isn’t. What Dylan does is combine things we can recognise (the lilting 6/8 time, and the rhyme of the first line with the second, plus that repeat of “Gates of Eden” at the end of each verse) with words that pour out across the nine verses like wave after wave hitting us.
Thus we have a combination of things we can hang on to (the rhythm never changes, the first line rhymes with the second, the last line always being the same) and the unexpected (the lyrics are difficult to make sense of – at least without a fair amount of study).
It is this combination of approaches and effects that makes the song so successful and so enduring, despite what appears to be its complexity and bleakness.
To see this one might try to rearrange it as a 12 bar blues in which the lyrics would run
Of war and peace the truth just twists, its curfew gull, it glides
Of war and peace the truth just twists, its curfew gull, it glides Upon four-legged forest clouds the cowboy angel rides
Of course, if it were a 12 bar blues the lyrics would be changed, but one can feel at once how hopeless the quest to make a song out of this would be using the 12 bar approach. The oddness of the words need the bleakness of the melody, and the strangeness of the rhyme scheme. But there has to be something in there that holds it all together, and that repeated first line of music, and the certainty of the fourth line gives us that.
This is indeed Dylan’s instinctive genius for how the song could be unbearable in its bleak lyrics, but bearable through the music. Anything other than this approach would have left the audience floundering, and the song forgotten as an experiment that didn’t work.
Ancient mythology’s Morpheus (Sandman) sends forth recipes containing human shapes for artistic cooks to shake up into dreams.
For example, to the American civil rights leader Martin Luthor King:
(I) had a dream
- that the cook leaned over and shook ...
- and he said this to the people
- "(I)want four cups of stormtrooper
- a tablespoon of catholic
- a half pound of communists
- six cups of rebel
- two tablespoons of bitter liberal ..."
(Bob Dylan: Tarantula)
Sandman’s brother Icelus mails out recipes filled mostly with animal forms.
For example, to the drawing board of cartoonist Walt Kelly, the creator of the long-lasting “Pogo” newspaper cartoon.
American politician Richard Nixon’s transformed by Walt into a Mark Twainian Indian Joe; calls him “Indian Charlie”, the fish fryer.
Cat-look-alike Senator Joseph McCarthy (Simple J Malarkey) speaks to the bird-like Deacon of Swampland:
I want to say one word about the fine young man
who gave me so much time to prepare these fish ...
(Walt Kelly: Pogo 'Possum)
Inspired by Kelly, the musician/singer/songwriter of the lyrics below (note the right-wing con man therein is still in human-face, and moreover he’s named outright), severely trashes the politician for being hypocritical, and unprincipled:
Now I'm liberal, but to a degree
I want everybody to be free
But if you think that I'll let Barry Goldwater
Move in next door, and marry my daughter
You must think that I'm crazy
(Bob Dylan: I Shall Be Free, No.10)
Walt Kelly’s wicked burlesque is quite unique; it has staying power above and beyond his departure, and the passing of the time in which it was written.
Pogo And Dylan
The newspaper cartoons of Walt Kelly illustrate what’s happening in the United States at the time singer/songwriter/musician Bob Dylan travels on down the road from the North Country.
With its somewhat hidden satire that focuses on American politics, the humour of Walt Kelly’s “Pogo Possum” falls flat overseas; the cartoon strip is not followed that much in Europe.
By no means is the ‘liberal’ humour of the Pogo cartoon all that subtle.
For example, segregationist Governor George Wallace, who blocks black students from entering a white university, gets presented by Walt as an AntiChrist figure.
In the cartoon racist Wallace rides on the back of a white horse, lifts its tail, and shouts “forward.”
The anti-Wallace influence of Walt Kelly on Bob Dylan is made clear and concise in the song lyrics beneath:
Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
(Bob Dylan: The Times They Are A-Changing)
Later on, unable to bring the Vietnam War to an ‘acceptable’ end, American president Lyndon B. Johnson resigns, leaving politicians Eugene McCarthy, Robert Kennedy, and Hubert Humphrey to campaign for the leadership of Johnson’s Democratic Party.
Walt charaterizes LBJ in a cartoon as a lonesome Texas Long Horn ~ a nutless steer sitting downcast atop a worn out horse.
For the United States, the War goes from bad to worse.
Eugene McCarthy’s political “peace” platform winds up going nowhere – he’s portrayed by Kelly as an out-of-control rider on a wooden toy horse in that the North Vietnamese completely ignore his domestic platform; instead they increase their military attacks on the South.
Jochen provided us with the original Memphis Blues, from which everything else emerged…
Indeed Jochen’s piece also contains the phrase, “The bloodthirsty railway staff ” – and ever since he provided the article in 2020 I’ve been wanting to use that in a song, but somehow the rest of the lyrics simply won’t emerge. Maybe one day.
And of course, I am going to include the Old Crow version. There is their usual vigour and vim; a sense of excitement which emphasises the sudden change with the “Oh Mama” line. Indeed getting that line right is the key to the whole piece; if the break to the chorus lines doesn’t feel like a summing up of all that has gone before, then the song is far less than it might be. And what it is here is excitement and fun, energy and vigour, which means you know that this is NOT the end.
The North Mississippi All Stars take a different route through the melody, and a very effective one it is. What we’ve got is a new song using the old lyrics, and those two chorus lines. It is harder to do than you might think – or rather it harder to do well. Quite an extraordinary video too – I don’t know the city so it took me completely by surprise.
Oh yes, and I love the instrumental break.
The next edition by Cat Power however doesn’t do anything for me – it sounds like the vocalist wanting to be a female Bob, which to me is pretty pointless, I think. But then as ever, that’s just me.
The Dead’s version surprises me – I thought they might have done more. But holding on to that descending bass limits just how far they can travel. I end up wondering what the point of this was.
And so we come to the one version that really really does work. I thought I would give it to you again, in case in the previous version you got distracted by the video. The North Mississippi Allstars. So good it is worth hearing twice.
Get lost Madam - get up off my knee
Keep your mouth away from me
I’ll keep the path open - the path in my mind
I’ll see to it that there’s no love left behind
I play Beethoven sonatas Chopin’s preludes . . . I contain multitudes
“After the show, Bob Dylan came over to meet me. He’d become a recluse after his motorcycle accident, avoiding touring and festival crowds. Somehow, they’d sneaked him in, and no one but a few performers knew of his presence. He shook my hand and said “Stars . . . great song. Great song.” I rode back to the hotel on his lap and he made an inarticulate proposition, which I declined in favor of going back to Bromberg’s room for a late-night jam.”
Janis Ian’s autobiography Society’s Child (2008) is a colourful and fascinating account of a colourful and fascinating life, and is, as you might expect from a lady who wrote crushing songs like “At Seventeen” and “Jesse”, moving, staggeringly honest and insightful. The reader is therefore strongly inclined to believe Janis’ account of her one-off encounter with Bob Dylan word for word.
On Sunday 27 August Dylan was an anonymous visitor to the 1972 Philadelphia Folk Festival, which he presumably attended to see his mate David Bromberg at work. Coincidentally, then, he was lucky enough to catch John Prine’s set, as well as Janis Ian’s. For Ian, it’s something of a come-back – at the time, her status is that of a one-hit-wonder (the controversial, marvellous “Society’s Child” from 1967), but today she plays two new songs that will turn the tide. She opens with “Jesse”, an unreleased, completely unknown song at the time, and because of its fragility, not exactly the ideal, attention-grabbing opener of a set. But this is a folk festival audience, as Janis knows;
“Jesse received thunderous applause, and cries of astonishment. No one knew where I’d gone for those four years, but they sure as heck knew a great song when they heard one, and I was welcomed back into the fold so vociferously that my show ended with the longest standing ovation of the evening.”
The applause gives her the courage to do another new number in the encore, venturing into the premiere of the long, heartbreaking song whose greatness is immediately recognised by none other than Bob Dylan: “Stars”; the song that opens with
I was never one for singing
What I really feel
Except tonight, I'm bringing
Everything I know that's real
… which undoubtely immediately generates a jolt of recognition in Dylan, only to be reinforced by the continuation, by naked, unadorned confessional lyricism like Some make it when they’re young, / before the world has done its dirty job and I guess there isn’t anything to put out on display / except the tunes, and whatever else I say, and larded with poetic gems like
Some make it when they’re old.
Perhaps they have a soul they’re not afraid to bare
or perhaps there’s nothing there
Great song, indeed, and perhaps made even greater by Nina Simone in Montreux, 1976, the performance with its weirdly chilling intensity in the “perhaps pretending” couplet (3’26”), and her piano playing with the beauty and sensitivity of a Beethoven sonata or a Chopin prelude.
Ian’s – justified – pride in the song and its success (the song pops up in the repertoire of such luminaries as Cher, Mel Tormé and Jeff Beck) dominates the rest of the chapter, but Janis’s account leaves that casual, brooding mise-en-scène unexposed: I rode back to the hotel on his lap and he made an inarticulate proposition. We don’t get any more information, but at least it illustrates – once more – that the persona, or multitude, Dylan brings up in this final couplet of “I Contain Multitudes” has little in common with himself; Dylan himself apparently does like it when a Madam sits on his knee, and he does not object when her mouth comes close. No, the persona here is more like a good old all-time favourite: the hard-boiled detective from a 1950s film noir, a Sam Spade who remains the only man in the entire film impervious to the seductive squirming of a femme fatale on his lap. “Take a hike, lady,” he coldly said as he pushed the dame off his lap, “stay away from me and don’t you try to kiss me.”
Fitting to the multitudes motif is Dylan’s choice of words. After the Juvenal paraphrase Get Lost, Madam, from a work from twenty centuries ago, and the Hollywood image from the twentieth century, the song poet opts with Keep your mouth away from me – again, after that I’m going to Bally-Na-Lee from the opening couplet – for a quote from a seventeenth-century Irish poem. Originally in Gaelic, of course, but in Lord Longford’s translation:
Keep your kiss to yourself,
young miss with the white teeth.
I can get no taste from it.
Keep your mouth away from me
… indeed, it seems more and more likely that Dylan, during his visit to Ireland, in the conception phase of Rough And Rowdy Ways, browsed through an inspiring anthology of antique Irish lyricism. Or, even more appealingly, that sometime during the evening’s alcoholic sojourn with Shane MacGowan, 11 May 2017, Shane stood up, and declaimed from memory a few of his beloved Irish poems – and that Dylan quickly made a few notes on the back of a beer mat. Five years later, 7 November 2022, when Dylan closes his first European Rough And Rowdy Ways tour in Dublin, the Irish bard is still playing through his head, at any case:
“I want to say hello to Shane MacGowan out there. He’s one of our favourite artists and we hope he makes another record soon. Fairytale Of New York is a song that is close to all of our hearts. Listen to it every Christmas.”
(preceding the finale “Every Grain Of Sand”)
It does move Shane. “Thank you 🙏 @bobdylan” he tweets at 10:17 the next morning.
To be continued. Next up I Contain Multitudes part 18: Thou art at last—just what thou art
Jochen is a regular reviewer of Dylan’s work on Untold. His books, in English, Dutch and German, are available via Amazon both in paperback and on Kindle:
By Tony Attwood, delving a little further and comparing some of the recordings from the Never Ending Tour, based on the comprehensive NET series by Mike Johnson (for which there is an index here).
In what might be the first “compare and contrast” article of a new and exciting series, or maybe a one-off (I don’t know yet) I picked “Frankie Lee and Judas Priest,” as a song of which I could compare and contrast the performances on the Never Ending Tour. And I picked it not because it leaped out as THE song to investigate, but rather because of the opposite: simply because it is not one of the most obvious songs from the Never Ending Tour to pick.
The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest (composed in 1967) has been performed 20 times by Bob Dylan – the first was in 1987 and the last in 2000. For his series of over 100 articles on the “Never Ending Tour”, Mike Johnson has delivered two live recordings of the song out of these 20.
Now of course which songs are selected might in part be because recordings are not to be found, or indeed are of poor quality, but it might well also be because Mike has not found much of interest in them – which of course is fair enough. He’s the expert and he makes the selections. The series doesn’t aim to offer up each and every recording – that would be quite ludicrous, because many of the recordings would be near identical, and for others there might just be poor quality.
But the two recordings of Frankie Lee that we have on this site, really are of interest.
Of this 1988 recording Mike says, “Dylan tried a few talking songs during the Basement Tapes era that preceded the album, but this is one of the few to make it onto an album. I’ve never quite worked the song out, despite being apparently told the moral at the end. The so-called moral just increases our puzzlement. It’s all about temptation and falling into illusion, but it’s a lot less straightforward than it seems: nothing is revealed.
‘No one tried to say a thing
When they took him out in jest
Except, of course, the little neighbour boy
Who carried him to rest
And he just walked along, alone
With his guilt so well concealed
And muttered underneath his breath
Nothing is revealed’
“It bounces along very nicely, however. GE Smith behaves himself and it makes for a lighter moment among some intense performances.”
So let’s start with George Edward Smith who Mike mentions. While working with “Saturday Night Live“, Smith toured with Dylan for 281 concerts from June 1988 to October 1990 having previously been the lead guitarist for the Hall & Oates band (including playing on several number one hits.)
He also played with David Bowie, Roger Waters, Tina Turner… and was in the band for the 30th Anniversary Concert in 1992, and his contribution here is clear from the very opening. He knows exactly when to be there, and when not, finding spaces between Bob’s declamation of the lyrics; each space being a matter of a second, and yet still giving us a moment’s break from the recitation of the lyrics by Dylan, and the straightforward playing of the bass.
And then suddenly we get to the instrumental verse and again he’s right there with a reinterpretation of the whole piece, adding to the country feel that the song has as a background. By the time of the second instrumental break we’ve got the total feel of what the music is doing, and the ending is a classic of a pop band of the era.
1988
For the 2000 appearance, Mike wrote, “We have to wonder why Dylan chose to revive this song at this time, and give it such prominence. I can only speculate that the song’s moral obscurity fits well with the compromised faith evident on Time out of Mind. From our present perspective, this 2000 version offers yet another side of Dylan’s vocal dexterity. It has a talky, preachy tone, but is sung as the album version is not. Half talking, half singing, bending words where he wants to, it’s a remarkable performance.”
2000
Dylan’s vocal approach is quite different here choosing the monotone singing emphasising an ever more frantic expression of morality as we get toward the end – contrasting with the much more melodic approach of two years earlier. There’s no lead guitar either to give us an additional input.
Listening to the piece now we are this time pushed toward the lyrics much more than in the version of two years earlier. And somehow, that and the variations in the way the song is sung, with the occasional declamations.
Then when the instrumental verse comes along we basically have the band playing alone with just a small instrumental extra from time to time. Until we get into the last verse (the moral verse) we have that effect Bob uses from time to time in which every word is sung is the same note, except for a descent on the last word of the line.
It is a really interesting development and change – this song so rarely performed, and which is incredibly simple in its musical structure (the same four chords over and over throughout) having two such utterly different interpretations, and then being dropped once more from the repertoire.
Other people’s songs looks at performances by Bob Dylan both of traditional songs, and those written by others, with explorations of their origins. The song and subsequent recordings are selected by Aaron Galbraith in the USA and then comments are added by Tony Attwood in the UK. There is an index to the previous articles in this series, at the end of this commentary.
Aaron:The Usual was written by John Hiatt, and appeared as the opening track on his 1985 album Warming Up to the Ice Age.
Tony: It’s another one of those videos that only works in certain countries, so here are two options. If neither works for you, enter “The Usual John Hiatt” into Google and you might come up lucky.
Tony:Here are the lyrics to the opening verse which give a flavour of where the song is going. I love the way Dylan sings the chorus line of “I’ll have the usual”.
I'm trippin over dumb drunks at a party Girlfriend just ran off with the DJ I give her everything, but she refused it It doesn't matter, she don't know how to use it My confidence is dwindling Look at the shape I'm in Where's my pearls, where's my swine? I'm not thirsty, but I'm standing in line. I'll have the usual
And just in case you are interested, the pearls and swine reference comes from the Gospels proverb, “Cast not pearls before swine.” Indeed there was for many years a band called Pearls Before Swine of which I think I still have the original LP in my spare room collection, and so deviating from Aaron’s script, here’s the opening track of their first album. Sorry I am going to have to stop, for a few minutes, having listened to that for the first time in more years than I count. Oh my!
Tony(now recovered): OK That was a total interruption. Normal service resuming. We are talking about John Hiatt and The Ususal. Sorry Aaron, do carry on…
Aaron: Bob Dylan covered the song in 1987 and it appeared as a highlight of the movie and soundtrack Hearts of Fire
Aaron: It would be interesting to know if Bob chose that song or if it was chosen by the producers or directors of the movie
Tony:Indeed, I agree, but either way it is a really fine rendition by Bob. What also must be added is that Dylan was in the film as a reclusive rock star and there were three songs by Bob in the film (“Night After Night” and “Had a Dream About You Baby” and this cover).
I haven’t seen the film, but the movie was considered pretty awful by those who decide such things, and seems to have been issued only on video. I don’t think it was ever shown in cinemas in the UK.
Variety magazine said that Bob was “typecast as a reclusive rock star.” The London-based Time Out magazine said in its review that Bob Dylan, “hovers enigmatically on the sidelines, offering jaundiced comments.”
But I think the song itself is really good and enjoyable, and Dylan’s version really has power and drive, which is what it needs.
Aaron: George Thorogood & The Destroyers subsequently covered the song in 1997 on the album Rockin’ My Life Away.
Tony: It is interesting to hear this second cover version. It is much lower key than Dylan’s version, where I feel he really puts the power into every line – even the simple “I’ll have the usual”. From my perspective, Dylan gets it right by adding all the power and drive. Yes the guy in the bar asking for “the usual” is on the way down, but it still works better with that extra power, giving the impression of raging against the rest of the world.
From his soulful melodies to his ventures into whiskey, Bob Dylan remains a multifaceted enigma in the realm of rock music and beyond. This article delves deep into the intertwined relationship between Dylan’s passion for music, gambling, whiskey, and baseball, unraveling a mosaic of influences that have shaped this icon.
Bob Dylan: The Musician
For over five decades, Bob Dylan’s poetic lyrics and distinct voice have earned him global acclaim, making him one of the most influential musicians of his time. His contributions to music span various themes, from social injustices to love, which has endeared him to millions worldwide.
An Iconic Legacy
Bob Dylan’s musical journey, dotted with powerful messages, has been an emblem of change, revolution, and introspection. Tracks like “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “The Times They Are a-Changin’” became anthems for civil rights and anti-war movements.
His Greatest Hits and Awards
Timeless tracks such as “Like a Rolling Stone” and “Tangled Up in Blue” are just a few masterpieces in his expansive discography. His achievements haven’t gone unnoticed; Dylan boasts numerous awards, including an unprecedented Nobel Prize in Literature for his lyrical prowess.
The Magnetic Appeal of His Music
His music resonates with authenticity and depth. Through his profound lyrics and diverse compositions, he’s touched on topics that mirror society, making his songs perennially relevant.
Bob Dylan’s Whiskey Brand
In a surprising venture, Bob Dylan exhibited his appreciation for fine spirits by introducing the world to his whiskey brand. Just as his music echoes depth and complexity, his whiskey promises an unforgettable experience.
Heaven’s Door: An Introduction
Heaven’s Door is not just any whiskey brand. Launched by Dylan, this brand offers a unique blend of traditional craftsmanship with modern flair.
The Decade Series
In December, Bob Dylan’s Whiskey Brand, Heaven’s Door, unveiled the inaugural “Decade Series,” a limited-edition collection of ultra-premium American whiskeys, each meticulously aged for 10 years or more.
The first release in the series was a high-rye 10-year-old straight bourbon whiskey, available at a suggested price of $109.99 online.
The whiskey is bottled at 100 proof and the meticulous attention to detail is evident in its sophisticated taste profile. With the captivating notes of maple, poached pear, banana, and the rich palate of toffee and bitter chocolate, it is an ode to perfection.
While this was the first expression from the “Decade Series” collection to be released, the brand said work on the small-batch release began over 10 years ago, when the founders of Heaven’s Door hand-selected barrels from small producers across the country.
Bob Dylan and Baseball
Baseball, America’s beloved pastime, also found a fan in Dylan. His admiration for the sport, evident in his interviews and songs, offers a glimpse into his personal preferences beyond the music scene.
A Personal Affection
Baseball, for Dylan, was more than just a game. His passionate commentary on players getting traded showcases his deep-rooted connection to the sport. It’s evident that Dylan was not just a great musician, he was a huge baseball fan. DraftKings Kentucky has you covered this baseball season as the season winds down and the playoffs are going to be getting underway.
The Conundrum of Loyalty
While many might argue about a fan’s loyalty to a team despite player trades, Dylan’s perspective is unique. To him, when favorite players are traded, the team’s essence changes, stirring a debate on true fandom.
An Ode to Catfish
His adulation for baseball players translated into music as well. “Catfish,” a tribute to the iconic American pitcher James “Catfish” Hunter, encapsulates Dylan’s respect for the legends of the sport.
Bob Dylan and Gambling
Gambling, with its whirlwind of highs and lows, has often found its way into Dylan’s music. His songs are replete with stories of gamblers, adding yet another layer to his multifaceted persona.
A Glimpse into Dylan’s Gambling Lyrics
His tryst with gambling in music began with renditions like “House of the Rising Sun.” While not originally his, Dylan’s version breathed a new life into this tale of a compulsive gambler.
The Evolution of “Rambling Gambling Willie”
“Rambling Gambling Willie” is a prime example of Dylan’s intricate storytelling. The character, inspired by Wild Bill Hickock and referred to as “Willie O’Conley” in the song, was meant to feature in his second album. Interestingly, this album, commonly recognized as “Freewheelin,” was initially titled “Bob Dylan’s Blues.” The shift happened around late July 1962, when Dylan recorded this masterpiece. The song’s portrayal in “The Bootleg Series Volumes 1–3” provides a captivating narrative:
He gambled in the White House and in the railroad yards
Wherever there was people, there was Willie and his cards
In the song, a man shoots Willie O’Conley after accusing him of cheating and Willie has the traditional dead man’s cards in his hands, the aces and eights. The last verse mentions that when your time has come, that’s it, you can’t escape the cards, or death.
Beyond Willie: Other Gambling References
Songs like “Huck’s Tune,” designed for the movie Lucky You, and “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts” further delve into the world of gambling, each echoing a unique tale.
“Lucky You” is about poker, money and relationships and it’s an extraordinary song while in “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts,” Lily is a poker player and the theme of playing cards turns up all the way through it.
In Conclusion
Bob Dylan, an emblematic figure in the music world, showcases a richness not only in his melodies but also in his diverse interests. His remarkable musical journey has not only given us iconic tracks that voiced the sentiments of entire generations but has also been an instrument of change.
Beyond the world of music, Dylan’s foray into the realm of whiskey, with the sophisticated Heaven’s Door Spirits, underscores his multifaceted personality and his penchant for craftsmanship and authenticity.
His songs, brimming with tales of gamblers and their adventurous sagas, illuminate another passion of his – the world of gambling. Each rendition, whether it’s “House of the Rising Sun” or the intricate “Rambling Gambling Willie,” reveals stories of risk, reward, and the inherent unpredictability of life.
Parallel to this, his affection for baseball, evident in his introspective views on player trades and his heartfelt tribute to Catfish Hunter, further solidifies his stature as a multifaceted legend.
In essence, Bob Dylan, with his profound music, love for whiskey, gambling tales, and admiration for baseball, remains a vivid tapestry of talents and interests. His journey and passions are a testament to a life lived fully, with every chord, every sip, every bet, and every game echoing his indomitable spirit.
With the benefit of a hindsight twist, and already noted, the alligator/allegory works just as well with Walt Kelly’s Albert Alligator construed as Albert Grossman (instead of Allen Ginsberg).
Grossman, the real-life business manger of the young singer/songwriter Bob Dylan, links himself figuratively by a golden chain to naive ‘Possum Bobby, the latter holding onto the short end of the chain.
Pogo’s advised to escape into the isolated Okefenokee Swamp to get away from the greed of capitalist whoremongers:
....(D)on't go mistaking Paradise
For that home across the road
(Frankie Lee And Judas Priest)
In Walt Kelly’s newspaper cartoon, the “Deacon” invites Simple J. Malarkey to join with him in order to protect guillible swampers from the intrusion of outsiders, from the bad influence of nonbelievers, from those terrible Commie trouble-makers.
Describes Simple as:
...(A) good wing shot, and a keen eye
Already I feel more secure
(Walt Kelly: 'Possum Pogo)
In the song lyrics beneath, gun-carrying right-winger Senator J. McCarthy-types are lampooned:
Me, I romp and stomping
Thankful as I romp
Without freedom of speech
I might be in the swamp
(Bob Dylan: Motoropsycho Nightmare)
Albert Grossman burlesqued as a materialistic capitalist – he’s Albert Alligator, the biblical 666 Beast with its tail in the sea.
Pogo meets the enemy at the gates, and he is him.
Poss The Boss
The song lyrics below indicate that the biblical ‘end-times’ of the Earth could be at hand …or maybe not:
Crash on the levee, mama
Water's gonna overflow
Swamp's gonna rise
No boats gonna row
(Bob Dylan: Crash On the Levee)
Betwixt and between the Heaven and Hell of Homer, of Shakespeare, of Milton, of Blake, and of Poe, lies the never-ending stretch of swampland depicted by newspaper cartoonist Walt Kelly.
Moving right along.
In a vision early one evening, I saw “Pogo” wading through the Okefenokee Swamp with swagman Al the alligator.
There in the muddy water, the fussy opossum spies a heap of broken plastic cups floating under a kookaburra tree.
Pogo turns to Allen, and says: “The enemy is at the gate.”
Al smiles, says back to him: “Yes, Bob, he is us!”
There are a lot of damp and warmy stories dawn by singer/songewriter Bob Dylan, from swampland like the Okefenokee, that feature two of Kelly’s dozen or so heroes.
Famous as the cartoon characters that they appear to be, the two spend quite a bit of time tilting at Dutch windmills:
Mr Jinx and Miss Lucy, they jumped in the lake
I'm not that eager to make a mistake
(Bob Dylan: Things Have Changed)
However, wide awake and serious be Pogo Opossum, his pals too, at other times:
I lay awake at night with troubled dreams
The enemy is at the gate
(Bob Dylan: Tell Old Bill)
Dylan’s interest in gambling songs has been noted several times before ranging from “Huck’s Tune” through to “Lily, Rosemary & Jack of Hearts.” And I wanted to come back to that subject because the YouTube video of the previous version of “Huck’s Tune” that we had on the site has now been taken down – and so needed replacing.
But also I have just discovered thanks to sports betting Zambia, can be heard playing on the speakers of the local betting shops, creating a unique ambiance for patrons.
I don’t have a report as to what particular songs are chosen, or whether the gambling shop owners are working their way through the whole of the catalogue, (628 songs the last time we totaled them up) – but if you happen to be in Zambia and have verified the story do let me know.
Anyway, back to “Huck’s Tune” which was written in 2006 and which I previously described as dynamic and lyrical, and written for the not very successful movie Lucky You and starring Drew Barrymore and Eric Bana… The song covers various topics, mostly focusing on poker. It finally found a place on “Tell Tales Signs”.
Moving backwards before moving on, there was “Rambling, Gambling Willie” written in 1961, and recorded in two different versions on separate dates in 1962, but not released for 30 years. I’ve covered that before but this video is interesting because of the introduction which explains how the song came to written, from someone who was right there at the time….
Next in the line is “Little Willie The Gambler” which tells the story of a famous or perhaps mythical gambler. In this song, Dylan tells the story of his friend Willie, who liked to gamble anywhere there were people, whether it’s the white house, railroad yards, or while sailing to New Orleans. Fortunately, Willie had a good heart, and supported his children and all their mothers.
But whichever way we turn the subject of gambling ultimately must lead to “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts.” And if you are a regular on this site you will know that there are two of these that I always pick out (at least until I find a better cover version). One is the live recording by Mary Lee’s Corvette and the other is the Tom Russell recording.
Indeed really have been through the archives to see if there is another version that ought to replace one of these or even both of them, but no, they remain the best – at least to my ears…
One day someone will come along and give us another brilliant version – although maybe there already is one and I have missed it. Please do tell me if so. If not I guess I will have to go to Zambia and see what they are actually playing there.
A Dylan Cover A Day – the title made sense during lockdown when we were looking for ways to fill the time. Now it is more like a Dylan cover every two weeks, but we’re still working through the songs in alphabetical order for this series, and so I don’t really get much choice as to what comes next (except that there are some songs with only one or two covers, which don’t seem to add much so I quickly move on, ignoring those.)
And so coming to this song, one of my all-time Dylan favourites, I was surprised how few cover versions I found. And doubly surprised that for those which I could find with freely available copies on YouTube, they were all by women – except for the version in Norwegian, which I’ve added at the end.
I’ve often used this site to rave over the work of Chrissie Hynde so no surprise really that I’m starting with her. Interestingly the accompaniment is a little louder and her voice a little softer than I would have anticipated, but then the singer is totally lost so there is a sense in that.
Listening to this song again for the first time in quite a long while I am struck by the incredible power that is generated by these simple words. I’m not sure about the video, but then, I’m really here for the music.
Jenny Lewis places all the emphasis, in contrast, on the beautiful melody and the exquisite lyrics of pain, torment, despair and to a degree hope. There is of course the opportunity for the guitarist to overdo his part when we get to “I’m strummin’ on my gay guitar Smokin’ a cheap cigar” and yes that doesn’t help to my ear, but it is an interesting arrangement.
https://youtu.be/ipefuta-1PY
Back with a studio recording, Sofia Lam’s voice is so distinctive, everything bends around that. As she says on her You Tube page “I post whatever I feel and mainly for memories” and why not?
Bonny Raitt often collaborated with Warren Zevon, and if you have read my ramblings elsewhere on this site you’ll know that means something to me, and draws me in with extra attention. I like this, not just for the voice but particularly for the way the accompaniment is handled. Somehow it means that the lyrics come out much more meaningfully, seemingly without an extra effort. It makes me feel that elsewhere, sometimes the producer or director is trying to get too much out of the band when that is not needed at all.
I porten from Tore Hestbråten is the song in Norwegian, and I’ve left this until near the end because I only found it today while preparing this little article. And although I don’t speak a word of the language I find something very special within this performance.
Which shows that although the lyrics are sublime it is the melody that really adds to the song. Bob only played it 58 times over a seven year period, and yet, and yet… it is a staggeringly beautiful song. So why so few covers? Why so few performances from Bob?
It is not as if it is difficult to perform, nor hard to imagine a different arrangement (how about it with a string quartet as a backing track). So quite why it hasn’t attracted more artists I struggle to resolve.
Fortunately for you, dear reader, you are not going to be subjected to my version, recorded to prove to myself there is nothing there that causes particular problems for the artist. But I can say from the experience, “do it gently; don’t get carried away; just let the words speak”.
But then, that’s just me.
And a postscript: I do sometimes get irate emails along the lines of “I can’t believe you didn’t include….” The reason as often as not is that I couldn’t find a freely available video of the song that would play in the UK and USA. It’s not always my odd taste. So if you are tempted to point out a great version, please also give me a link to it on Youtube so it can be included.
“Foot of Pride” is quite a problematic piece to tackle in terms of this series of articles on the music AND the lyrics. After all, the music that we have consists of a non-changing beat, guitar parts that only marginally change as the piece continues, and chord changes based on the traditional 12 bar blues with a couple of extra chords added into the “no going back” chorus at the end of each verse.
How then can this piece be considered an example of how Dylan’s songs can be best understood by considering it in terms of both music and lyrics (which is the essence of the articles in this series).
The point, I believe, is that the lyrics are either meaningless as a whole or difficult to disentangle from the allusions and references on which they are built. And to be clear I don’t mean that if the lyrics are meaningless then the song is no good; the notion that life is meaningless is, in my view, a perfectly rational and reasonable position to take
Certainly if we look at the opening lines…
Like the lion tears the flesh off from a man
So can a woman who passes herself off as a male
They sang "Danny Boy" at his funeral and the Lord's Prayer
The preacher talking 'bout Christ betrayed
It's like the earth just opened and swallowed him up
He reached too high, was thrown back to the ground
You know what they say about bein' nice to the right people
on the way up
Sooner or later you gonna meet them comin' down
Yeah, there ain't no goin' back
When your foot of pride come down
Ain't no goin' back
… there is not much there that we can hang on to. Yes, we can evolve a meaning if we really want to work at that, but the meaning here, and in subsequent verses is not leaping out; we have to build our own meaning out of the lyrics – it does not seem to be inherent within them. But if the song is about anything, then surely it is about the chaos of life as everything tumbles around, and we are constantly pushed forward. And such an interpretation takes us back to the meaninglessness of life.
In these circumstances, for such a song to work, we need some certainty within the music and this is what the beat gives us. But we don’t need a melody because that would distract from the eternal chaos of the lyrics – for there is no subsequent clarification. After all, what are we to make of…
There's a retired businessman named Red
Cast down from heaven and he's out of his head
He feeds off of everyone that he can touch
He said he only deals in cash or sells tickets to a plane crash
He's not somebody that you play around with much
Miss Delilah is his, a Philistine is what she is
She'll do wondrous works with your fate
Feed you coconut bread, spice buns in bed
If you don't mind sleepin' with your head face down in a grave
It is because everything here is chaos that we need something to hang onto – in this case the rhythm. For if we were given a melody in the traditional sense, that would destroy the meaning of the words, for it would have to be in a major or minor key and relate to a series of chord changes that do all the traditional things that a song does.
So Dylan gives us the bleakness of the contradictory words which suggest that all around is chaos, while giving us a background beat and occasional chord changes, plus the “no going back” line which reminds us that everything is moving ever onward into more and more chaos. (Which incidentally is the cosmological view: the universe started as a singularity 13.8 billion years ago, and has been expanding ever since).
It is an incredibly difficult subject to write about in musical terms, and yet Dylan pulls it off, because he knows instinctively when not to use a melody and when to keep that pounding riff going all the way through.
Indeed writing successful songs is as much about knowing what not to do and much as what to do. More than in most songs, these lyrics would not be noticed without the music, and certainly the music would be nothing without the lyrics. The music seems incidental and repetitive, but it is fundamental to the successful delivery of this message within the song that everything is not connected, but is in fact flying apart.
Songs about chaos don’t appeal much to critics; after all how can one write about chaos in a meaningful way? But Dylan does it here, and through the integration of the accompaniment, the declamation and the chaotic lyrics, we get that absolute feeling of what it is about. From the story of chaos, through the perfect balance of lyrics, rhythm and melody reduced to almost nothingness, we get a superb piece of music. And indeed a possible meaning in the title: we feel ourselves to be in control of our lives, but really everything is just a chaotic expansion.
Get lost Madam - get up off my knee
Keep your mouth away from me
I’ll keep the path open - the path in my mind
I’ll see to it that there’s no love left behind
I play Beethoven sonatas Chopin’s preludes . . . I contain multitudes
“Bob Dylan’s new book is revealing, misogynistic and a special kind of bonkers,” headlines the LA Times in October 2022, above its review of The Philosophy Of Modern Song. And in proving the misogyny, journalist Jody Rosen falls into the same trap as so many reviewers, analysts and fans before her: she, too, equates the narrator with the writer. Extra naïve in this case, as Dylan explicitly introduces each discourse with a “you” on which the impact of the song being discussed is projected (she’s your protector, your guardian. Puts a jinx on your enemies bewitches your competitors, turns your opponents feeble, and any rival that’s hostile to you, to quote just one random example – this one is from “Black Magic Woman”), and explicitly not with an “I”, that is. On top of that, the indignant Jody Rosen is guilty of an unfortunately popular but nevertheless rather underhanded way of arguing: cherry-picking.
Rosen cites thirteen examples of passages in which women are belittled or insulted, but conveniently ignores the dozens of passages in which ladies are portrayed as powerful, energetic, admirable. As in the above “Black Magic Woman” example, or in the awe of “Long Tall Sally” (she was built for speed, she could run like a deer), in the respect for the self-confident “Money Honey” who kicks her loser-lover’s ass out the door (I gave you money, but you gambled it away, now get lost). Just as the journalist, in her disdain for Dylan’s words on polygamy, conveniently ignores his emancipatory disclaimer: “When did I ever posit that the polygamist marriage had to be male singular female plural? Have at it, ladies. There’s another glass ceiling for you to break.” Not to mention all those despicable male losers passing in Dylan’s book – it will probably draw the accusation of misandry in a subsequent cultural climate, we may fear.
Still, the LA Times journalist is certainly not the first, nor will she be the last. “Misogyny” we have been hearing since “Just Like A Woman” (1966), and remains a theme in the decades since. “Can you cook and sew make flowers grow?” Jonathan Cott quotes from “Is Your Love In Vain?”, then slyly asks:
JC: Is that the kind of woman you’re looking for?
BD: What makes you think I’m looking for any woman?
JC: You could say that the song isn’t necessarily about you,
yet some people think that you’re singing about
yourself and your needs.
(Rolling Stone, 16 November 1978)
It’s a layered interlude in the interview. Bob Dylan probably should now start explaining for the umpteenth time that je est actually un autre, but apparently some kind of fatigue is gradually prevailing – instead of explaining that the “I” in his songs is not “I, Bob Dylan”, he opts for the assertive counterquestion: “What makes you think I’m looking for any woman?” Cott’s rebuttal is at first to the point (the song isn’t necessarily about you), which vaguely has an I stand corrected tone, but the journalist spoils it again immediately afterwards by hiding behind the cowardly Some People Think argument, only to claim a right that is wrong either way, that I = Bob Dylan himself.
Fortunately, Dylan does not care. He continues to bring in misogynistic, chauvinistic protagonists (“Sweetheart Like You”, “Sugar Baby”, “Rollin’ And Tumblin'”), seemingly indifferent to the ill-founded reproaches it will generate again. Which, once again, “I Contain Multitudes” demonstrates as well. Slightly amplified, even: the opening of the closing couplet, Get lost Madam, Dylan copies from the Mother of All Misogynists, from Juvenal’s Satire VI, written between the end of the first and the early second centuries A.D.:
“I’d far far sooner marry a penniless tart than you, Cornelia, Mother of Statesmen, so haughty a prig for all your virtues, your dowry weighted down with triumphs. As far as I’m concerned you can take your battle-honours – Hannibal, Syphax, the whole Carthaginian myth – and get lost with them, madam.”
(in Peter Green’s 1967 translation)
Suggesting, by the way, that Dylan didn’t just browse through a collection of Juvenal quotes to choose that bizarre The size of your cock won’t get you nowhere from Satire IX for “Black Rider”, but actually took in Peter Green’s entire translation.
Satire VI is one of the better-known, and by far the longest of the sixteen Satires; over seven thousand words, 695 lines, almost twice as long as the second-longest Satire – Book II of the five-volume Satires consists solely of this verbal explosion of sophisticated, misogynist hatefulness. Including the famous one-liner “Sed quis custodiet ipsos custodes? – but who will guard the guards?”, with which Juvenal wants to warn that locking up those ever-horny sluts won’t do either; then they’ll just have sex with the guards.
Seven thousand words in which the speaker seeks to dissuade one Postumus from marrying, by arguing for seven thousand words what an untrustworthy, adulterous, backstabbing, money-hungry, sadistic (it’s her lover’s torments that give her real pleasure), quarrelsome, squeamish, superstitious and toxic gender they constitute, those females. Friendly commentators may try to argue that Juvenal is expressing his concerns about the moral decay of the Roman Empire with hyperbolas, and that he does in fact snipe at male Romans as well, but that truly is a bit all too friendly; Satire VI is really an eloquent, broad-based carpet of shrapnel grenades targeting the female sex. Moreover, on the last page, Juvenal implores conflict-averse, harmony-seeking interpreters of his tirade not to characterise it as hyperbole; “Do you think this is melodrama?” he asks rhetorically, “how I wish it was nonsense!” To conclude swiftly, before the closing point, with yet three more examples of repugnant female behaviour, to convince the groom-to-be Postumus to cancel the wedding.
All in all, it is certainly an amusing image, the fantasy of how Dylan, with a raised eyebrow no doubt, takes in Satire VI, puts a check mark in the margin at line 171, at get lost, madam, and briefly considers having a copy of Book II delivered to the editorial staff of the LA Times. To the attention of Madam Jody Rosen.
To be continued. Next up I Contain Multitudes part 17: An inarticulate proposition
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Mississippi, Desolation Row, Crossing The Rubicon, Where Are You Tonight, Tombstone Blues… Some songs are so rich and multicoloured that they deserve their own book . I fear that almost every song on Rough And Rowdy Ways is going to claim that right. The book of this series is now available.
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Jochen is a regular reviewer of Dylan’s work on Untold. His books, in English, Dutch and German, are available via Amazon both in paperback and on Kindle:
