Wasn't my mother surprised when she picked me up from an after Little Red School House play date with my friend Anna, and Bob answered the door. 1972 I think. He played the harmonica for us. A chill stay at home Dad I remember who made good snacks.
Oh, I would love to know more. I remember your mother saying that the Dylan brood was “like steps.” And that Anna was terribly surprised your place didn't have a second floor like hers.
In March 1964, my father was fired by the Bethlehem Steel Company for his involvement in forming a local citizens and clergy group seeking better lives and opportunities for Black and Brown steel workers and other minority members of the wider community. Quickly the story of his firing hit the front page of the New York Times and many other papers across the country. Later a book was written about this event and its aftermath (Crisis in Bethlehem).
At that time, I was a freshman at a local private girls school where each student, at some point, was expected to provide a sermon of some sort for the daily chapel service. My turn had arrived that March. The room was filled with daughters of fathers who also worked for the Company. A few of their families had reached out to my parents with support for his stance. Others did not. I chose to recite the lyrics of "Blowin in Wind" (you know, "the answer my friend is...") one. The room was pretty quiet after that.
A few months later, we moved to an apartment in Greenwich Village, just blocks away from Positively 4th Street. I've always felt a kinship with Dylan from those days. The resonance of his words:
There’s no doubt that if Bob had been a Roberta, she would have sunk beneath the waves. And if Johnny Cash had been Johanna, she would have been institutionalized. (Sigh…)
Fifteen or twenty years ago, ie long before the Nobel prize, I was having a conversation with some friends over dinner, about literature. Somehow we ended up all/each taking out pieces of paper and jotting down, without time to think, the ten writers who had had the most impact on us, and then comparing notes to see if there were overlaps. (It was fun.) At the last minute I tacked on Dylan to mine as number eleven: not quite on the list because after all if was music, not just words, but impossible to leave off. When we had all read our lists, everyone at the table ended up appending Dylan as a number eleven as well.
How revealing. I probably would have done the number 11 thing as well. But when you look seriously at the lyrics, they range brilliantly and boldly across moods, from hilarious to enraged to awestruck at the impact of time on a human life.
It’s fun, isn’t it? It was just a handful of people, but of different ages, and it was interesting to compare. On Dylan and why I couldn’t quite leave him off, I think that it had less to do with the meaning of the lyrics than with the language. I think that he permanently shaped my understanding of the forms of English, I guess specifically American English. How a grammatical construction like “It’s a hard rain’s a -gonna fall” could sound so completely real and alive and natural. I think that I got much of my sense of the rhythms of the language from him, too. It feels like one of the huge influences — does that part ring true for you too —?
So much of it is carried by the melodies too, and the references to other songs. I knew (still know, I guess) the lyrics to many more Child Ballads than the melodies that go with them, so I don’t always catch when he’s referencing a melody, but the textual references have such an impact, a sense of a whole tradition being reflected.
I know far less Dylan than you do, but your piece is bringing up so many thoughts about the songs even so!
He used many folk idioms early on. Later, not so much. On his most recent album, Rough and Rowdy Ways, his use of language is contemporary are his narrative voice full of tge hard-won knowledge that comes with old age.
Huh — will listen. I heard Dylan play maybe six, seven, eight years ago, something like that. It was an outdoor space, relatively small, but there was no feeling of connection between singer and audience. An odd experience.
Wonderful memories, Rona. I took that album out of the library and listened over and over. As soon as I could buy them on my own, I did. One of my favorite Dylan memories is later in my life, home from college in the car with my Mom. She was not a fan of 'my music', but tolerant. "Lay Lady Lay" came on the radio and she liked it, said so and added that was a song she could understand. It was one of the most surprising statements my mother ever said to me and was one of many steps in knowing her as the woman she was when she wasn't my Mom.
How surprisingly bold of your mom to tell you that. Sensing Dylan was trouble for women, I decided early that I didn't want to "lay" across any bed of his. And I'm a stickler for grammar. For me it's "lie" or nothing.
I'm glad you mentioned Joni, a musical titan whose songs can be read as poetry. My point, which could use clarifying, is not simply that Dylan was a brilliant artist but that he got away with being "kind of an asshole," to quote the Baez character in the movie. Women get smacked down for bad behavior as men generally do not. Joni is famously arrogant but not obnoxious, as far as I can tell. And she has a lot to be arrogant about.
Yes Yes Yes. I beg your pardon, Rona, but for me, Joni was a better songwriter and an incredibly gifted singer and musician. I worked with a man who was Bobby's babysitter and a friend wrote her dissertation comparing Dylan to Dante. I will go see Timothy do Dylan on your recommendation. We crave the same courageous freedom in our chests.🫀
Sand and glue. Wonderful (I did not know the song). I wonder what you’ll make of the movie. Dylan is so reflective that everyone has a private version of him, and the well of potential words is never dry.
If I had to chose, it would be Bowie over Dylan. I always went for the kinda bad boys and Bowie seems closer to that than Dylan ever did. Dylan poetically whined, Bowie just got out on the dance floor in an outrageous and flamboyant way that resonated with my own rebellious tendencies.
Lucky us! We don’t have to choose. We can listen to everything that moves us, as much as we want. And if we’re wearing headphones, nobody will yell, “Turn that down’”
Great essay, Rona. This movie is sparking so many interesting essays and discussions. After reading Susan Bordo's Substack about the movie, I bought Suze Rotolo's memoir on Kindle. I just finished reading it. The Suze who emerges on those pages is far more thoughtful, intelligent, and interesting than she's made out to be in the movie. I recommend the book, not so much because it's brilliantly written (it's not), but because it provides a perspective that's very different from what you see in the movie, and also manages to illuminate the movie. Plus, Suze was good pals with Sylvia Tyson, so as a Canadian I think for that alone you are obligated to read the book.
Oh how i love Bob Dylan, and thank you for this wonderful piece this morning. I loved the movie to pieces--Chalamet was at the screening i went to and at the end of the movie, the entire audience was on its feet with a standing ovation even before he entered the room. Electrifying, all of it. His singing in the movie! Unbelievable! But enough about the movie, the real Dylan is one of my life's soundtracks. I adore him. I was struck the most by this line from you: "But what I wanted even more, with a wordless hunger, was Dylan’s irrepressible creative daring." How I wish I would have felt the same back then, but i did not know even to want at that time. I didn't know anything. It wouldn't have occurred to me to want anything more than to sleep with every cute boy I saw. Took me so many years to learn I had agency. Thank god, i finally did.
Dylan wasn’t even very cute, and he was grubby. But women wanted to mother him. Baez bathed him and got him to clean off his own grime. Glad you enjoyed the movie and my take on it.
My sister, living in the Bay Area not far from Joan, went to Mimi's funeral hoping Dylan would show up. Mimi's death, like the Nobel ceremony, was not his idea of a must-go.
I, too, was teenager obsessed with Dylan. I would sit on my bedroom floor for hours, transcribing his songs into a loose leaf notebook.
Listen to a lyric, lift the needle, write it down. Listen to a lyric, lift the needle, write it down.
It wasn’t until years later that I realized the line from “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” was supposed to be “…take what you have gathered from *coincidence*”not *calm winds so dense*.
I'm going to see the film in a couple of hours. (The city burns. I need distraction.) Of course I always saw Dylan's great talent, which through those miraculously synchronicities of time arose at the perfect time to make it genius. And I lived through those times so . . . But I never fell in love with Dylan as so many did, for all the good reasons not to fall in love with him. I know I'll appreciate the film for its own many good reasons. I'll remain out of love.
I understand those reasons. I will not try to talk you (or anyone) out of them. Each of us looks to certain artists, in many eras and genres, who illuminate our lives. The pantheon is highly individual. LA County is on my mind constantly. I hope the movie gave you some pleasure at this appalling time.
Loved the film, as I had imagined I would, having read many reviews. I find its core examination very much to the point of my feelings. Every performance is notable but what makes Chalamet so good, for me, is how a kind of busy opaqueness in his eyes and barest smiles reflect Dylan's inscrutability. You see that the drive of his genius is directing all he does, beyond any human connections. You're right, of course, about the very personal nature of these attachments. For me in that musical era it was John Lennon.
I just saw this movie. I didn't realize Bob Dillon wrote Mr Tambourine Man...it was one of first songs we taught our grandkids (just the chorus) when we made up a zoom ukulele band during COVID. (Our weekly band was a way to stay connected through the miles that we could not then travel to be with each other. No one really learned how to play the ukulele, but we sure had fun together.) One of the other band favorites and first to be taught was We Shall Overcome, and my do we need to be singing that song now -- who would have ever imagined the horror we are now repeating. I'm so glad my grandkids have those words inside of them and associated with connection to family.
Wasn't my mother surprised when she picked me up from an after Little Red School House play date with my friend Anna, and Bob answered the door. 1972 I think. He played the harmonica for us. A chill stay at home Dad I remember who made good snacks.
Oh, I would love to know more. I remember your mother saying that the Dylan brood was “like steps.” And that Anna was terribly surprised your place didn't have a second floor like hers.
This is one of my favorite pieces by you—every single line is tight and golden.
Tight and golden: the holy grail. Thank you, Beth.
Well put, Beth!
In March 1964, my father was fired by the Bethlehem Steel Company for his involvement in forming a local citizens and clergy group seeking better lives and opportunities for Black and Brown steel workers and other minority members of the wider community. Quickly the story of his firing hit the front page of the New York Times and many other papers across the country. Later a book was written about this event and its aftermath (Crisis in Bethlehem).
At that time, I was a freshman at a local private girls school where each student, at some point, was expected to provide a sermon of some sort for the daily chapel service. My turn had arrived that March. The room was filled with daughters of fathers who also worked for the Company. A few of their families had reached out to my parents with support for his stance. Others did not. I chose to recite the lyrics of "Blowin in Wind" (you know, "the answer my friend is...") one. The room was pretty quiet after that.
A few months later, we moved to an apartment in Greenwich Village, just blocks away from Positively 4th Street. I've always felt a kinship with Dylan from those days. The resonance of his words:
Yes, and how many years must a mountain exist
Before it is washed to the sea?
And how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind
A song perfect for the moment, and many other moments. Thank you for sharing this powerful story.
Thank you for creating this platform! I always enjoy your stories and encouragement for writers and readers.
There’s no doubt that if Bob had been a Roberta, she would have sunk beneath the waves. And if Johnny Cash had been Johanna, she would have been institutionalized. (Sigh…)
I’m afraid so. Or ended up on the street, where nobody ever formed a beautiful vision of her.
I see what you did there. 👏🏼
So nice to read this!
Fifteen or twenty years ago, ie long before the Nobel prize, I was having a conversation with some friends over dinner, about literature. Somehow we ended up all/each taking out pieces of paper and jotting down, without time to think, the ten writers who had had the most impact on us, and then comparing notes to see if there were overlaps. (It was fun.) At the last minute I tacked on Dylan to mine as number eleven: not quite on the list because after all if was music, not just words, but impossible to leave off. When we had all read our lists, everyone at the table ended up appending Dylan as a number eleven as well.
How revealing. I probably would have done the number 11 thing as well. But when you look seriously at the lyrics, they range brilliantly and boldly across moods, from hilarious to enraged to awestruck at the impact of time on a human life.
It’s fun, isn’t it? It was just a handful of people, but of different ages, and it was interesting to compare. On Dylan and why I couldn’t quite leave him off, I think that it had less to do with the meaning of the lyrics than with the language. I think that he permanently shaped my understanding of the forms of English, I guess specifically American English. How a grammatical construction like “It’s a hard rain’s a -gonna fall” could sound so completely real and alive and natural. I think that I got much of my sense of the rhythms of the language from him, too. It feels like one of the huge influences — does that part ring true for you too —?
So much of it is carried by the melodies too, and the references to other songs. I knew (still know, I guess) the lyrics to many more Child Ballads than the melodies that go with them, so I don’t always catch when he’s referencing a melody, but the textual references have such an impact, a sense of a whole tradition being reflected.
I know far less Dylan than you do, but your piece is bringing up so many thoughts about the songs even so!
His live appearances are variable.
He used many folk idioms early on. Later, not so much. On his most recent album, Rough and Rowdy Ways, his use of language is contemporary are his narrative voice full of tge hard-won knowledge that comes with old age.
Huh — will listen. I heard Dylan play maybe six, seven, eight years ago, something like that. It was an outdoor space, relatively small, but there was no feeling of connection between singer and audience. An odd experience.
Wonderful memories, Rona. I took that album out of the library and listened over and over. As soon as I could buy them on my own, I did. One of my favorite Dylan memories is later in my life, home from college in the car with my Mom. She was not a fan of 'my music', but tolerant. "Lay Lady Lay" came on the radio and she liked it, said so and added that was a song she could understand. It was one of the most surprising statements my mother ever said to me and was one of many steps in knowing her as the woman she was when she wasn't my Mom.
How surprisingly bold of your mom to tell you that. Sensing Dylan was trouble for women, I decided early that I didn't want to "lay" across any bed of his. And I'm a stickler for grammar. For me it's "lie" or nothing.
It must be heredity, I can still get goosebumps when he purrs that song. I always did have a soft spot for bad boys.
There was/is a woman artist of the time named Roberta who did exactly what Dylan did—her way—only better, in my estimation.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joni_Mitchell
I'm glad you mentioned Joni, a musical titan whose songs can be read as poetry. My point, which could use clarifying, is not simply that Dylan was a brilliant artist but that he got away with being "kind of an asshole," to quote the Baez character in the movie. Women get smacked down for bad behavior as men generally do not. Joni is famously arrogant but not obnoxious, as far as I can tell. And she has a lot to be arrogant about.
She certainly has!
Yes Yes Yes. I beg your pardon, Rona, but for me, Joni was a better songwriter and an incredibly gifted singer and musician. I worked with a man who was Bobby's babysitter and a friend wrote her dissertation comparing Dylan to Dante. I will go see Timothy do Dylan on your recommendation. We crave the same courageous freedom in our chests.🫀
I love and admire both. Dylan is closer to my heart but Joni is the greater musician.
Rona,
I have not yet seen the movie. But between you and Susan Bordo, I'm well armed!
One of my favorite Dylan-related songs is Bowie's song about him on Hunky Dory, my favorite Bowie album. I love the song's opening:
"Oh, hear this Robert Zimmerman
I wrote a song for you
About a strange young man called Dylan
With a voice like sand and glue
Some words had truthful vengeance
That could pin us to the floor
Brought a few more people on
And put the fear in a whole lot more"
Sand and glue. Wonderful (I did not know the song). I wonder what you’ll make of the movie. Dylan is so reflective that everyone has a private version of him, and the well of potential words is never dry.
If I had to chose, it would be Bowie over Dylan. I always went for the kinda bad boys and Bowie seems closer to that than Dylan ever did. Dylan poetically whined, Bowie just got out on the dance floor in an outrageous and flamboyant way that resonated with my own rebellious tendencies.
Lucky us! We don’t have to choose. We can listen to everything that moves us, as much as we want. And if we’re wearing headphones, nobody will yell, “Turn that down’”
So true!
I prefer Bowie to Dylan. My favorite Dylan songs were the ones performed by Hendrix.
Great essay, Rona. This movie is sparking so many interesting essays and discussions. After reading Susan Bordo's Substack about the movie, I bought Suze Rotolo's memoir on Kindle. I just finished reading it. The Suze who emerges on those pages is far more thoughtful, intelligent, and interesting than she's made out to be in the movie. I recommend the book, not so much because it's brilliantly written (it's not), but because it provides a perspective that's very different from what you see in the movie, and also manages to illuminate the movie. Plus, Suze was good pals with Sylvia Tyson, so as a Canadian I think for that alone you are obligated to read the book.
She sounds to me like a young woman of courage and substance. The photos Susan posted of her with Dylan are adorable, full of fun.
Oh how i love Bob Dylan, and thank you for this wonderful piece this morning. I loved the movie to pieces--Chalamet was at the screening i went to and at the end of the movie, the entire audience was on its feet with a standing ovation even before he entered the room. Electrifying, all of it. His singing in the movie! Unbelievable! But enough about the movie, the real Dylan is one of my life's soundtracks. I adore him. I was struck the most by this line from you: "But what I wanted even more, with a wordless hunger, was Dylan’s irrepressible creative daring." How I wish I would have felt the same back then, but i did not know even to want at that time. I didn't know anything. It wouldn't have occurred to me to want anything more than to sleep with every cute boy I saw. Took me so many years to learn I had agency. Thank god, i finally did.
Dylan wasn’t even very cute, and he was grubby. But women wanted to mother him. Baez bathed him and got him to clean off his own grime. Glad you enjoyed the movie and my take on it.
This is the best thing I ve read this week There is so much bad stuff I would have liked to see Mimi Farena included as I saw her live
Aww, thanks, Emily. As I recall from David Hajdu’s book Positively Fourth Street, Dylan had a huge crush on her.
Yeah, and Joan was none too pleased about it.
My sister, living in the Bay Area not far from Joan, went to Mimi's funeral hoping Dylan would show up. Mimi's death, like the Nobel ceremony, was not his idea of a must-go.
I, too, was teenager obsessed with Dylan. I would sit on my bedroom floor for hours, transcribing his songs into a loose leaf notebook.
Listen to a lyric, lift the needle, write it down. Listen to a lyric, lift the needle, write it down.
It wasn’t until years later that I realized the line from “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” was supposed to be “…take what you have gathered from *coincidence*”not *calm winds so dense*.
I love it. Shades of “‘scuse me while I kiss this guy” and “Gladly the cross-eyed bear.”
I'm going to see the film in a couple of hours. (The city burns. I need distraction.) Of course I always saw Dylan's great talent, which through those miraculously synchronicities of time arose at the perfect time to make it genius. And I lived through those times so . . . But I never fell in love with Dylan as so many did, for all the good reasons not to fall in love with him. I know I'll appreciate the film for its own many good reasons. I'll remain out of love.
I understand those reasons. I will not try to talk you (or anyone) out of them. Each of us looks to certain artists, in many eras and genres, who illuminate our lives. The pantheon is highly individual. LA County is on my mind constantly. I hope the movie gave you some pleasure at this appalling time.
Loved the film, as I had imagined I would, having read many reviews. I find its core examination very much to the point of my feelings. Every performance is notable but what makes Chalamet so good, for me, is how a kind of busy opaqueness in his eyes and barest smiles reflect Dylan's inscrutability. You see that the drive of his genius is directing all he does, beyond any human connections. You're right, of course, about the very personal nature of these attachments. For me in that musical era it was John Lennon.
I wonder what Lennon would be up to now if he were still among us. Something unpredictable, I don't doubt.
I saw it with my adult kids at Playhouse Cinema in Hamilton which added to the enjoyment. A bonus is that Dylan played there
Copps Coliseum in Hamilton is where I saw him last.
I just saw this movie. I didn't realize Bob Dillon wrote Mr Tambourine Man...it was one of first songs we taught our grandkids (just the chorus) when we made up a zoom ukulele band during COVID. (Our weekly band was a way to stay connected through the miles that we could not then travel to be with each other. No one really learned how to play the ukulele, but we sure had fun together.) One of the other band favorites and first to be taught was We Shall Overcome, and my do we need to be singing that song now -- who would have ever imagined the horror we are now repeating. I'm so glad my grandkids have those words inside of them and associated with connection to family.
A song for now? Oh, yes!
Me too. 😎
Thanks, Majik!
I liked your review of “A Complete Unknown.” I loved your love of Dylan.
I also loved the movie. Here was my take on it. 😎https://open.substack.com/pub/themjkxn/p/remember-me?r=1qts0e&utm_medium=ios