Tom sucks.

I'm up to Nashville Skyline, actually. I haven't been posting my reviews because I was waiting for a certain someone, but he is totally lame. I'm going to post Freewheelin' in the next week or so, then hopefully I'll get to the rest of them in a timely fashion. One of my New Year's Resolutions: finish what you start.

Until then...

Bob Dylan

"Keep your hand on that plow, hold on!"

Some background on the album for anyone who may not be familiar:

Recorded in 1961, released in 1962, Dylan had been wandering around New York City, playing in clubs (most notably the Gaslight Cafe) and exploring the folk scene, much as T and I are doing with Dylan. I viewed this as his "coming out" album; it established him firmly in the folk music genre, particularly due to the songs he chose to cover and allowed the population to decide if they wanted more. As we all know now, they did.

I want to address his voice first. I remember having a conversation about Bob Dylan with my mom at a young age - I thought he was fantastic, but my mother mentioned my grandparents not digging him quite as much. I didn't understand why. Well, she answered, a lot of people don't like the sound of his voice, they think it's too gruff. Some people are just used to listening to smooth sounding singers, like Frank Sinatra. This sentiment was mirrored years later, at my first internship, when my boss Stacey, who was a fabulous lady, told me about the first Dylan concert to which she took her daughter, who was about my age. The daughter did not like it at all - it was his voice, she said. Obviously, I do not agree. I adore the sound of his voice and I think it's important that people know it was intentional. He was a Jewish kid from Duluth, Minnesota - but he wanted to channel the multitudes, the hard travelled, the poor - an excerpt from the New York Times review of Bob Dylan: "Mr. Dylan's voice is anything but pretty. He is consciously trying to recapture the rude beauty of a Southern field hand musing in melody on his porch. All the "husk and bark" are left on his notes and a searing intensity pervades his songs." I think they put it much better than I ever could. And Dylan, well I think it's his voice (and obviously his great skill in song-writing, particularly on the albums soon to be explored) that makes him so unique, memorable, influential. When I listened to this album, I could hardly believe that he was only 20 years old. To me, with that voice, he will be eternally old and wise - his voice transports me to a campfire, somewhere in the middle of a desert, next to a deserted road, or under a bridge. He's singing to me and our companions around the campfire (who, in my over-romantic mind are the other idealistic sensitive souls who were on to the world - Kerouac, Ginsberg, Ferlinghetti, John Lennon sometimes) and we've all been on the road so long that we've forgotten our homes. We're all just human beings, who can easily relate to the sad tales and lost dreams of other human beings. We're just hoping things get better soon. This sentiment is what I feel that today's music is missing.

As for his skills in playing the guitar and harmonica - I'm not really the one to ask. I would feel extremely guilty passing judgment, considering I myself possess no musical ability except for that of spotting talent. I know it's good, but I don't know why. I truly lack the technical knowledge to comment on anything but how it makes me feel, which is the angle I plan on taking in this blog.

Bob Dylan talks about folk music a lot in his book. He captures the reason why it is such a powerful force and puts it into words: "Folk music was a reality of a more brilliant dimension. It exceeded all human understanding, and if it called out to you, you could disappear and be sucked into it. I felt right at home in this mythical realm made up not with individuals so much as archetypes, vivdly drawn archetypes of humanity, metaphysical in shape, each rugged soul filled with natural knowing and inner wisdom. Each demanding a degree of respect... It was life magnified." Now, when I listen to Bob Dylan, I often wonder if, in my head, he's his own character out of a folk song - it originates in this album. When I listened to it, even the first time, I was filled with this strange assurance that he was tuned into something bigger. He was world-wise and maybe a little world-weary, and he'd hardly been born. I thought he chose perfect songs to connote this, eternal tales of heartbreak, sorrow and love. From the attention-grabbing entrance of You're No Good, to what is now my favorite rendition of House of the Risin' Sun and the album's dying wish: See That My Grave is Kept Clean. Who can't relate to the broad aspects of these songs? I really "don't mind dyin', but I hate to leave my children cryin'" - well, if I had children, that'd be my sentiment anyway. And there's been many a time when I hoped someone would let me follow them down. And who, in this crazy world, has not felt seemingly constant sorrow? His voice works perfectly with the ebb and flow of these American stories. His harmonica playing is sublime. Altogether, I have to say I loved this album.

Now, I wanted to address separately the shielded bookends of the album, the tracks he wrote. I was a fan of Talkin' New York from the first note, and giggled with delight and 20/20 hindsight when he sarcastically relayed his experience trying to break into the NYC folk scene: "You sound like a hillbilly, we want folk singers here." However, I have to say the entire listening experience was enhanced after reading his autobiography. While I certainly maintain that it's not the whole truth (even Dylan himself confesses to altering the truth, when the record company man asked how he got into town - "I rode a freight train." - a paragraph later..."I hadn't come in on a freight train at all. What I did was come across the country from the Midwest in a four-door sedan, '57 Impala"), he paints such a lovely picture - I can see him sleeping on couches, idolizing Guthrie, getting paid "a dollar a day" to play the harmonica, trying to get a grasp on the world and the city and the people. After reading it, I would listen to Talkin' New York and I felt like I was there with him.

Song to Woody is one of the more beautiful, and real, odes to a great man I've ever heard. I knew about Dylan's Guthrie obsession a while back, and acquired myself a copy of Dust Bowl Ballads which I would highly recommend everyone does. Guthrie's just as great as Dylan believes him to be. And this track in particular highlighted the precocious knowledge of young Dylan - the way he describes the world, especially: "Hey, hey Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song' Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along. Seems sick an' it's hungry, it's tired an' it's torn, It looks like it's a-dyin' an' it's hardly been born." Is this not a universal sentiment if you've ever heard one? He delivers the entire song with love, as if he just can't keep it in, but with a tinge of sorrow and it gives the track this feeling of completeness - like he'd just encompassed the experience of millions of lives - and with ease, put it into a dozen notes and a few words. And with that, I'm going to leave the rest of this album up to you, and to T-$ - but..."The very last thing that I'd want to do, Is to say I've been hittin' some hard travelin' too."

My POV

Wow. It feels so strange to be typing this, like I'm treading on sacred ground. I was raised with Dylan, but primarily the "hits". My mom's a Dylan junkie, and I cannot thank her enough. But in my household, he was to be respected, revered and adored - plain and simple. My mom was too young to be a part of the history shaped by his music (or shaped by events and accompanied by his music, whichever you prefer) - in fact, she was born after he'd released four albums, I believe. I just thought it was only fair to disclose where I'm coming from. Other pertinent information - I have several musician friends who have also shared/spurred my interest in Bob Dylan, I've seen him once in concert, a few years ago with Willie Nelson - it was almost an absurdly fantastic experience. Moment I use as a microcosm for the whole experience - looking to my right, and seeing an older couple, easily 65+, swaying with their arms around each other, smoking a joint to Blowin' in the Wind - looking to my left, and seeing a pair of 16 year old girls rocking out to All Along the Watchtower, as into it as anyone there. I was 21 at the time, I'm 23 now.

The exploration goes in chronological order. But, as I have been raised with Dylan and not living under a rock, I've heard a lot before (not to mention his use in movies and television - The Sopranos will get brought up later on) and so while many of the tracks listened to were unfamiliar to me, many of them were not. For example, I purchased Blonde on Blonde, and even Modern Times, way before his first album (in terms of my life, so a couple years constitutes "way before"). So basically, I know a little about where this story is heading.

Also, I've read the autobiography, Chronicles (from which I'm sure there will be selected paragraphs inserted into the blog), I've seen exhibits at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, I've seen his photograph up in City Lights Bookstore (also note: I live in San Francisco), in short, I knew some things about his life, colleagues, influences (I also have a copy of Dust Bowl Ballads sitting over yonder, though I need more), etc. before I started.

That's where I'm coming from. Where are you?

Inaugural Post

...coming soon. Once my grandparents leave, this will be my top priority (it's next Wednesday).