Dylan just turned 82, and the dude shows no signs of slowing down. I wrote the following SoTW seven years ago, when he won the Nobel.
It’s my attempt to get to the heart of how I perceive Dylan as an artist.
Who da daddy of rap?
Who da grandaddy?
Here’s a less-known Dylan masterpiece, ‘Black Diamond Bay’ from the last of his great albums, ‘Desire’ (1976).
It’s a cinematic tour de force, a dreamed narrative from a movie that you’ve never quite seen, hovering just beyond the horizon of your consciousness. You know every cliché, even the ones you’re aware Dylan is inventing as you watch.
In 1970, Dylan was so set on releasing a terrible album that he left out all the good stuff.
Here’s the good stuff.
Welcome to Dylanland.
You don’t need Thile and Mehldau to justify the standing of Dylan or Mitchell. But their fresh new readings may still amplify and even enhance the originals.
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Have you heard the one about the farmer’s daughter and the traveling troubadour?
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This is the way the world the world ends, this is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with Jeff babbling about the demigods playing ping-pong.
Wishing all of us, everywhere, health and peace of mind.
Dylan, not as a kid pretending to be a cotton-picker in Greenwich Village; not him embarrassing himself as an Evangelist preacher; not as an old fool croaking standards–this is Dylan at his creative pinnacle.
It’s another side of Bob Dylan — unmasked, naked and vulnerable. We’re idiots, babe, it’s a wonder that we still know how to breathe.