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Bob Dylan - I just don't get it

I never really got into Bob Dylan until my mid 20s. I think if you've only heard his most famous stuff, it's easy to think that's all there is to him. I much prefer his slower stuff - Blood on the Tracks, Desire & Blonde on Blonde are albums I listen to very often, even after all this time. I just never get fed up of them. As for those who say he can't sing, I suggest you listen to the emotion in his voice on songs like "You're a big girl now". That's coming from the heart, which is more important to me than being technically a good singer. If that's what you want, go and listen to Mariah Carey or summat.
 
William of Walworth said:
I'm very much a nu-folk type who has a very broad definition of what good folk music can be, but :

1. Is there any evidene that trad fok singers EVER put their finger in their ear? I've been going to the Cambridge Folk Festival for years and have NEVER seen anyone do it. Or in pub folk sessions either!
2. Real ale isn't just for old, trad, boring folkies -- admittedly they know how to drink the ale dry at the CFF and elsewhere :D but plenty of non folkies/non trad folkies like it too -- a lot! Yet you use it as an implied insult :(

And being part of CAMRA's Rapid Cliche Refutation Unit, I'll fight anti-ale prejudices wherever I see them! :p
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Cambridge is hardly a hardcore traditional event. You do see lots of (especially old) blokes with their finger in their ear, Euan MacColl was rarely seen without a finger in is ear. I'm into trad song, I love the stuff, just think there's a lot of cliquey, snobby bastards in certain circles. I think a lot of what gets called modern folk isn't really folk but just takes on it's affectations and a lot of singers of traditional song don't get nearly enough respect because they don't fit the image af what a folk singer is. I have no problem with old guys in cable-knit sweaters shoving their finger in their ear, swigging some real ale (with organic twigs) and singing traditional song, what I do have a problem with is some of those old blokes denigrating anything that isn't part of that clique.
 
poet said:
Cambridge is hardly a hardcore traditional event. You do see lots of (especially old) blokes with their finger in their ear, Euan MacColl was rarely seen without a finger in is ear. I'm into trad song, I love the stuff, just think there's a lot of cliquey, snobby bastards in certain circles. I think a lot of what gets called modern folk isn't really folk but just takes on it's affectations and a lot of singers of traditional song don't get nearly enough respect because they don't fit the image af what a folk singer is. I have no problem with old guys in cable-knit sweaters shoving their finger in their ear, swigging some real ale (with organic twigs) and singing traditional song, what I do have a problem with is some of those old blokes denigrating anything that isn't part of that clique.
Click to expand...


Good point well made. But there are a lot of young (under 30) people performing traditional songs and tunes on the folk scene these days. They're mostly very good indeed, I've never seen any of them sing finger-in-ear and they're treated with a great deal of respect by folkies of all ages*.

*At festivals anyway. I've never been to a folk club so you could well be right about cliques.


EDIT
Bob Dylan: Blood On Tracks is one of my favourite albums but I find it diffcult to listen to Highway 61 Revisited all the way through.
 
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

...............................



...ah, fuck it.
 
Hollis said:
Buy yourself a copy of Blood on the Tracks.
Click to expand...


Seconded !

(yes, I KNOW he`s been a tosser, but it`s the memories/associations & he has written some WONDERFUL lyrics)

I`m off to see him (again) in November ! :)
 
Bob Dylan. *sigh*

Where do I start?

First and foremost, he'd retired to all extents and purposes before I was even born. And I'm no kiddie.

So I missed out on all that "Like A Rolling Stone" anti-Vietnam thing, the voice he gave to a million nervous displaced young people in mid-American Hooverland, the very basic human decency of the man at a time of great turmoil.

In terms of how the history books will see things, from a 20th century perspective, he will, without doubt, be remembered in his passion and his conviction and honesty, and will be revered by many good people for hundreds of years, much as would a prophet.

But he doesn't half fucking whine, the cunt.

Half his tracks sound like he's singing whilst straining to have a shit!

All that endless whirring and lowwwing, slurring his voice around like a drunken fork-lift.

What's the point?

I can't hear your deep and spiritual lyrics, Dylan, you're falling asleep whilst recording all your records!!

Blah blah The Times They Are A-Changin' yes Bob they are, so stand up properly and try and pronounce a few syllables!

But! He is the man with no ambition, and that is what makes him so important.

But I give it 3 minutes at most on my radio before I fuck it off and no mistake.

In a nutshell, the equation is:

Dylan = Great man -
Shit voice x
Dodgy Beard -
Messianic Fan Worship
All round decent fella.

I'd love to see him live, but it would never occur to me to actually bother to go buy tickets, because he doesn't bother to sing properly, without sounding like he's in the bog, really trying to plop one off, on the parge, teethmarks in the door, properly straining, to finish a rather urgent yet still extremely challenging Number 2.

And by Christ, it would smell, too. No wonder the poor man keeps whining.

:confused:
 
pk said:
Half his tracks sound like he's singing whilst straining to have a shit!

All that endless whirring and lowwwing, slurring his voice around like a drunken fork-lift.
Click to expand...

Straining for the divine, with the fallible voice of Everyman.
 
I used to hate him when I was a teenager. Too nasal, not polished.

When I learned that he'd written half the songs I loved that were covered by other musicians, I got a little respect for him as a writer.

Now, I like him as a singer even. I like that he's not some Academy trained singer with a voice coach and doctor to examine him every day for nodes on the vocal cords. They're his songs, and he gives us genius in the way that genius often comes: unpolished, underappreciated, weighted with the humanity of the bearer.

Sure it's nice when some producer gets together with the studio musicians and smooths out the roughness, but when he does it, it's just a dog baying at the moon, and that has its own charm and fascination.
 
There is no proper answer to that I can give without prompting this thread binwards.

:D
 
Dylan?

Awesome. Greatest songwriter ever IMVHO. Amazingly adaptable, endlessly creative, takes all styles of music and does them in his own unique way, writing some of the most influential music of the last century in the process.

As for his voice, it's unique. Of course he's not a classically trained singer, but he writes songs to suit his style. That's why 99% of Dylan covers aren't worth listening to. IMO the only person who's ever made much of his songs besides himself is Joan Baez - most of the Byrds' Dylan covers were sugary pop bollocks, with one or two honourable exceptions.

If you don't 'get' Dylan, you're missing out.
 
Johnny Canuck2 said:
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

...............................



...ah, fuck it.
Click to expand...

Exactly. Give me "AAAAAAwwlllright Nooooowww..." any day of the week.
 
Dr. Furface said:
And yet his electric versions of songs such as Idiot Wind and Shelter From The Storm on his live album Hard Rain piss all over the more acoustic originals.
Click to expand...
Exactly. I have a copy of Tangled Up in Blue done electrically. My favourite song of all time, especially that version.
 
changingman said:
Who's Paul Weller?
Click to expand...

This reminds me of a conversation I had once with a young girl I worked with. I said something about The Jam, and she said "Who are The Jam?"
I said, "Um, you know...Paul Weller used to in them?" She said "Oh, I've heard of Paul Weller. I think my dad likes him!"

Which made me feel quite old.

Anyway, interesting discussion on Radio 5 - Do you get Dylan?

Anyone would think they'd been stealing their ideas off these boards! ;)
 
Geri said:
This reminds me of a conversation I had once with a young girl. She said "Oh, I've heard of Paul Weller. I think my dad likes him!"
Which made me feel quite old.
Click to expand...
"Is happiness real?
Or am I so jaded
I can't see or feel - like a man been tainted
Numbed by the effect - aware of the muse
Too in touch with myself - I light the fuse"

Now THAT's what i call a good song. None of this Masters of War bollocks with verses going off into infinity, puctuated by an atonal gobiron solo.

and the Modfather can sing a bit too..

I had a job as a petrol pump attendant in Woking many decades ago and I used to fill up John Weller's (Pauls' dad and manager) taxi about 3 times a week. Austin Westminster it was.
Paul would have been about 11 at the time.. I bet even then he had more talent than Zimmerman hahahahahaha...
On reflection, that was the best job I ever had. Filled up Free's van once too (bassist Andy Fraser lived in nearby Horsell). All downhill from there.
 
oooomegrapes said:
just saw the ad for his documentary....excuse my ignorance, but is he still alive?
Click to expand...

He still plays a concert every other night, on average, at 64. He looks pretty old and wizened these days, and he's had heart problems, but I saw him in Manchester 3 years ago and he was awesome. AFAIK he's planning on recording yet another album in the near future.

That's the thing about Dylan. He's been written off as past it three or four times in the past, and then come back with a great album - like John Wesley Harding at the end of the '60s, or Oh Mercy in 1989. His last two albums have been superb, so the next one might well be worth a listen.
 
14 page special "Dylan - A Special Celebration" in the Independent Arts & Book Review today.. :cool: :cool:

A taster for you re Highway 61 Revisited

"In which Dylan grabs rock n' roll's baton and races forward with it: a dizzying whirl of words borne along full-tilt on some of the sharpest blues-rock licks ever embedded in vinyl."

:cool: :cool:

(Andy Gill wrote that.)
 
Roadkill said:
He still plays a concert every other night, on average, at 64. He looks pretty old and wizened these days, and he's had heart problems, but I saw him in Manchester 3 years ago and he was awesome. AFAIK he's planning on recording yet another album in the near future.

That's the thing about Dylan. He's been written off as past it three or four times in the past, and then come back with a great album - like John Wesley Harding at the end of the '60s, or Oh Mercy in 1989. His last two albums have been superb, so the next one might well be worth a listen.
Click to expand...
Or Blood on the Tracks and Desire.
 
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