February 12, 2003

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  The Times They are A’Changing Just got off the horn with a friend ten years my junior who’s been struggling lately. I note P’s age because it came up in our talk. She’d related her latest ‘stay/go love/hate’ saga and without thinking I replied, “Sounds pretty Dylan”. Which was met with the whooshing of winds through the generation gap. I was referring, of course, to Bob…Mr Zimmerman. Bob Dylan. I could see P’s nose wrinkling even through the phone. “Ugh-Him? He’s so old and weird.” and proceded to point out that Dylan was old and weird even when *I* was a kid (you know, back when dinosaurs roamed and all). That’s true (and Dylan was weird way before he was old). Yet, Bob Dylan and Hunter S Thompson and their ilk were still around and accessible in a not-old-and-weird way when I and my tribe were hitting our stride. I guess it would be a bit like (god, am I going to write this? yes I am) Madonna for today’s twenty-somethings; She is still a presence though that visceral *now-ness* of her emergence has peaked. Dylan’s work was a touchstone of who we were and what we were becoming. He was like that friend’s older brother who once said something kind. So, while I know that there is no dearth of material on every concievable subject from the new artists out there, I felt a bit sad for P. Dylan’s voice and stylings may have had their ups and downs. His heyday has come and gone. As an artist though–a poet–Dylan possesses a magic to speak plainly and eloquently of themes and dreams, good and evil, right and wrong and why it doesn’t matter and why it will always always matter. Right now, with the volume up high, I will think good thoughts for you, P. And Dylan will sing you some truth… Seeing the Real You At Last Well, I thought that the rain would cool things down But it looks like it don’t. I’d like to get you to change your mind But it looks like you won’t. From now on I’ll be busy, Ain’t goin’ nowhere fast. I’m just glad it’s over And I’m seeing the real you at last. Well, didn’t I risk my neck for you, Didn’t I take chances? Didn’t I rise above it all for you, The most unfortunate circumstances? Well, I have had some rotten nights, Didn’t think that they would pass. I’m just thankful and grateful To be seeing the real you at last. I’m hungry and I’m irritable And I’m tired of this bag of tricks. At one time there was nothing wrong with me That you could not fix. Well, I sailed through the storm Strapped to the mast, But the time has come And I’m seeing the real you at last. When I met you, baby, You didn’t show no visible scars. You could ride like Annie Oakley, You could shoot like Belle Starr. Well, I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble, Trouble always comes to pass But all I care about now Is that I’m seeing the real you at last. Well, I’m gonna quit this baby talk now, I guess I should have known. I got troubles, I think maybe you got troubles, I think maybe we’d better leave each other alone. Whatever you gonna do, Please do it fast. I’m still trying to get used to Seeing the real you at last.

  Copyright © 1985 Special Rider Music ‘Weird and old’…Ha! Is this not a “Spin” magazine coverboy? (granted, he was going through that bizarre purple velvet phase during my heyday in the mid/late 80s–but sensible crush-girls ignore that nonsense and concentrate on the images that suit them–ala “Importance of Being Earnest”…) I always preferred ‘em less fuzzy anyway…

  Whaddaya know…Turns out that Johnny Cash beat me to the punch on old Bobby’s qualities as a poet…

  • 7:03 pm
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