David Baxter PhD
Late Founder
Not Dark Yet: Bob Dylan at 70
by Noam Shpancer, Ph.D., Psychology Today
April 18, 2011
Remembering to appreciate a cultural treasure.
Once in a while one wishes to take a break from the brokenness of life and turn one's mind to the goodness of it--its delicate pleasures; the art, the music, the poetry.
To my mind, no other person in the last half-century has contributed as much in this realm as one Robert Zimmerman, more commonly known as Bob Dylan, who's now quite the sage as he reaches his 70th birthday in May.
Old Bob is one of these rare individuals whose life you can rightly and happily envy. The man has done extraordinary things in his field, has seen extraordinary times, and has kept his creative spirit, curiosity, and good sense in tact.
Dylan transformed folk music in his early years and brought it renewed energy and relevance. Then he famously went electric and brought rock-n-roll out of its teen-induced stupor and into cultural and political relevance. In the ensuing years he has remained restless; musically, he has explored and incorporated gospel, country, jazz, and swing influences. Religiously, he detoured into Christianity (as reflected in the inferior Slow Train Coming) and back (in the superior, Infidels).
Dylan was never easy to access. He refrained from composing beautiful melodies, insisted on writing songs about things other than young love, played mostly in the minor key, and created verbal smokescreens in interviews. In his notoriously unpredictable live performances, he has tinkered incessantly with his enormous songbook, often playing new--at times incomprehensible--versions of his old tunes.
Still, from the beginning his artistic voice was immediately singular, at once old and new, transparent and opaque, intimate and canonical.
He shape-shifted much over the years, but not in the callow, trying-to-survive-by-adopting-the-latest-trend kind of way. Rather, he changed organically, in the way of true explorers, by following his own curiosities and questions. His themes have changed to reflect not his audience's taste or pop culture's dictates but his own journey.
Unlike many of his generation, who died or became nostalgia acts, Dylan remains active, innovative and relevant. He has continued to make new music, and his new music is often more urgent, more probing than before, exploring various aspects of Americana--its interior and exterior landscapes.
In a world where most artists have one good song, or at best one good record in them, Dylan has made multiple masterpiece recordings in each one of the last five decades, creating undoubtedly the deepest, richest, and most influential songbook in the history of adult American pop music.
His influence and longevity are even more startling given the fact that he's never sold that many records; he has sold less than the Spice Girls, less than Cher. He's never been a heartthrob, never shook his hips or pouted. He never starred in the tabloids, never did the talk show thing, the ‘reality' thing, the rehab thing. His children and ex-wives have never been paraded in the media. The only thing he's known widely for is his art.
Dylan never had a great singing voice, and in recent years his voice has deteriorated further. He'd never ‘make it to Hollywood' as an ‘American Idol' aspirant. Yet he is a great singer, with unique phrasing, timing, and energy. Lyrically, he has been unequaled among contemporary American songwriters and poets, with superior range, erudition, inventiveness, playfulness, and depth of feeling.
He can do love songs dark:
The late musician Warren Zevon once told the story of meeting Dylan at some gig. Wanting to make small talk, he asked Dylan what he was up to. "Travellin'," Dylan uttered. And that essentially sums it up. It's been a long, strange trip for the old master. His reflections and recollections of it have made this life richer, more joyous and heartfelt for many of us.
Happy birthday, Bob. May you stay forever young.
by Noam Shpancer, Ph.D., Psychology Today
April 18, 2011
Remembering to appreciate a cultural treasure.
Once in a while one wishes to take a break from the brokenness of life and turn one's mind to the goodness of it--its delicate pleasures; the art, the music, the poetry.
To my mind, no other person in the last half-century has contributed as much in this realm as one Robert Zimmerman, more commonly known as Bob Dylan, who's now quite the sage as he reaches his 70th birthday in May.
Old Bob is one of these rare individuals whose life you can rightly and happily envy. The man has done extraordinary things in his field, has seen extraordinary times, and has kept his creative spirit, curiosity, and good sense in tact.
Dylan transformed folk music in his early years and brought it renewed energy and relevance. Then he famously went electric and brought rock-n-roll out of its teen-induced stupor and into cultural and political relevance. In the ensuing years he has remained restless; musically, he has explored and incorporated gospel, country, jazz, and swing influences. Religiously, he detoured into Christianity (as reflected in the inferior Slow Train Coming) and back (in the superior, Infidels).
Dylan was never easy to access. He refrained from composing beautiful melodies, insisted on writing songs about things other than young love, played mostly in the minor key, and created verbal smokescreens in interviews. In his notoriously unpredictable live performances, he has tinkered incessantly with his enormous songbook, often playing new--at times incomprehensible--versions of his old tunes.
Still, from the beginning his artistic voice was immediately singular, at once old and new, transparent and opaque, intimate and canonical.
He shape-shifted much over the years, but not in the callow, trying-to-survive-by-adopting-the-latest-trend kind of way. Rather, he changed organically, in the way of true explorers, by following his own curiosities and questions. His themes have changed to reflect not his audience's taste or pop culture's dictates but his own journey.
Unlike many of his generation, who died or became nostalgia acts, Dylan remains active, innovative and relevant. He has continued to make new music, and his new music is often more urgent, more probing than before, exploring various aspects of Americana--its interior and exterior landscapes.
In a world where most artists have one good song, or at best one good record in them, Dylan has made multiple masterpiece recordings in each one of the last five decades, creating undoubtedly the deepest, richest, and most influential songbook in the history of adult American pop music.
His influence and longevity are even more startling given the fact that he's never sold that many records; he has sold less than the Spice Girls, less than Cher. He's never been a heartthrob, never shook his hips or pouted. He never starred in the tabloids, never did the talk show thing, the ‘reality' thing, the rehab thing. His children and ex-wives have never been paraded in the media. The only thing he's known widely for is his art.
Dylan never had a great singing voice, and in recent years his voice has deteriorated further. He'd never ‘make it to Hollywood' as an ‘American Idol' aspirant. Yet he is a great singer, with unique phrasing, timing, and energy. Lyrically, he has been unequaled among contemporary American songwriters and poets, with superior range, erudition, inventiveness, playfulness, and depth of feeling.
He can do love songs dark:
Sky is gray
life is short and I think of her a lot
I can't say
if I want the pain to end or not
and love songs light:life is short and I think of her a lot
I can't say
if I want the pain to end or not
Why wait any longer for the world to begin
You can have your cake and eat it too
Why wait any longer for the one you love
When he's standing in front of you
He can be mischievous:You can have your cake and eat it too
Why wait any longer for the one you love
When he's standing in front of you
She's looking in to my eyes, and she's a-holding my hand
She looks in to my eyes, she's holding my hand
she say, "you can't repeat the past,"
I say "You can't? What do you mean you can't?
Of course you can."
philosophical:She looks in to my eyes, she's holding my hand
she say, "you can't repeat the past,"
I say "You can't? What do you mean you can't?
Of course you can."
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.
reflective:From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.
Noontime, and I'm still pushin' myself along the road, the darkest part,
Into the narrow lanes, I can't stumble or stay put.
Someone else is speakin' with my mouth, but I'm listening only to my heart.
I've made shoes for everyone, even you, while I still go barefoot.
or cynical:Into the narrow lanes, I can't stumble or stay put.
Someone else is speakin' with my mouth, but I'm listening only to my heart.
I've made shoes for everyone, even you, while I still go barefoot.
I don't want nothing from anyone, ain't that much to take
Wouldn't know the difference between a real blonde and a fake
He can be funny:Wouldn't know the difference between a real blonde and a fake
Poor boy, in the hotel called the Palace of Gloom
Calls down to room service, says send up a room
frustrated:Calls down to room service, says send up a room
Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates
Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken
personally angry:Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken
Idiot wind blowing every time your move your mouth
Blowing down the backroads heading south
Idiot wind blowing every time you move your teeth
You're an idiot babe
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe
or angry politically:Blowing down the backroads heading south
Idiot wind blowing every time you move your teeth
You're an idiot babe
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe
You fasten all the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion'
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud.
In his more recent work he's often sad:For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion'
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud.
I see people in the park forgetting their troubles and woes
They're drinking and dancing, wearing bright-colored clothes
All the young men with their young women looking so good
Well, I'd trade places with any of them
In a minute, if I could
sober:They're drinking and dancing, wearing bright-colored clothes
All the young men with their young women looking so good
Well, I'd trade places with any of them
In a minute, if I could
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there
and resigned:
I've been to sugar town and I shook the sugar down
Now I'm trying to get to heaven before they close the door
Now I'm trying to get to heaven before they close the door
The late musician Warren Zevon once told the story of meeting Dylan at some gig. Wanting to make small talk, he asked Dylan what he was up to. "Travellin'," Dylan uttered. And that essentially sums it up. It's been a long, strange trip for the old master. His reflections and recollections of it have made this life richer, more joyous and heartfelt for many of us.
Happy birthday, Bob. May you stay forever young.
