THE SIGNAL from David Katznelson
"No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky."-Bob Dylan
There is no getting around it…no avoiding it…no chance of missing it or missing out how people feel about it: Bob Dylan is 80. When I recently asked Jonathan Richman what it was like turning 70, he said (and I lazily paraphrase) that it was just a number. 70….69…71….it is all aging: we humans have decided the 10 count was important. And while he is 100% right...guess what? Bob Dylan is 80. One of the greatest living songwriters, an artist who has defined eras, who has set trends, who has owned the live stage, who has trashed the live stage, who has been loved, hated, awarded…and with all of the focus and books and dissertations and documentaries, is still very much an enigma.
What else is there to say about him? Not much. So, I would like to celebrate his birthday by relating what I remember about a story Doug Sahm once told me about Dylan that is one of my favorites.
Dylan loved (and maybe still does) hanging out and collaborating with incredible artists who have deep American roots but who also have a truly unique voice. People like Jim Dickinson, Al Cooper, Charlie Daniels, David Bromberg, Mike Bloomfield, Daniel Lanois, Doug Kershaw, T-Bone Burnett….THE BAND! It is a Who's-Who of the men who were changing the face of blues/folk/country music of the time. It makes sense that one of Dylan’s favorites was Doug Sahm, an artist who at 9 years of age opened for Hank Williams and who was a major bridge between Texas country music and a more modern sound that blended influences from England, Mexico, the swamp of Louisiana, and Haight Street; an artist who Jerry Wexler inscribed to Doug in his autobiography (and I saw it): “to the greatest musician I have ever worked with.”
As Doug told it, Dylan and Doug did a lot of hanging in the sixties and seventies, especially during the period between 1969 and 1974 when Dylan was retired from touring. It was during one of those years, in an east-Texas bar, on an extra hot summer afternoon, that Doug and Bob were throwing down a few long necks and wasting away the day. Dylan was “undercover”—not wanting attention—with a scraggly beard and a populist camouflage.
We find our heroes saddled up to the bar, arguing about the lyrics of a verse to a song. One of my regrets as storyteller is not being able to remember what song it was: but it was a classic, an oldie, a traditional number that both of them had a different opinion as to what the lyrics were in the second verse.
Leaning against the wall of the bar was a knackered acoustic guitar. And when Dylan espied it, he grabbed it up to play the song through; to prove to Doug once and for all that he was correct his assessment of the song’s lyrics. He put his fingers on the frets, with his right hand picking the strings, getting instrument in tune, and then dove into the song from the beginning, fueled by the moment, loud and free.
It was the first time Dylan had played in public in years.
About mid-way through the first verse, the bartender grabbed the guitar right out of Dylan’s hands: “Gimmie that guitar, son! You sound awful,” he said, “You can’t play that guitar in my bar if you are going to annoy my patrons with that nasty noise.” Dylan smiled at Doug, that was that. Stale mate. They threw back some more long necks and continued to ramble on….
Happy Birthday Bob Dylan. Thank you for the greatest collection of recordings and live memories. Holy crap, there is only on Dylan…amazing that he even exists at all.
Crosby, Stills and Nash Talk ‘Deja vu,’ Why a Reunion Won’t Happen on ‘CBS Sunday Morning
Nine years ago last night Barb and I met Pres Barack Obama with Crosby and Nash and then dined with the rockstars and their families. Nash and Crosby were such great friends at that juncture…a lifetime of staying together through thick and thin. Neither had any understanding of how it would all fall apart….or maybe Nash always knew…. And then there is this new Deja Vu box!
THE WILD TRUE STORY OF THE MAN WHO TRIED TO PROTECT PEOPLE FROM GRAVITY
More great work done by the Library of Congress. For all fans of The Idelsohn Society.
40 Years Ago, Poet Lucille Clifton Lost Her House. This Year, Her Children Bought It Back.
“Celebrated poet Lucille Clifton created a vibrant home that served as a base for activists. She lost the house to foreclosure, but now, her children hope to bring it to life again.”
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT
By: Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
