A line from "Simple Twist Of Fate" seemed appropriate recently, and it gave me the incentive to listen to parts of* Blood On The Tracks again, after a long time. My old favourites remain, but I have been happy to find that I enjoy the other tracks more than I thought I did. Songs I remembered as sad, gloomy, and painful, but powerful, turned out to be anything but - well, sad and powerful, sure, but not without some cool sense of beauty. I don't know if that made much sense, but 'tis best not to try and analyze these things too much (especially when you can't write...!).

Incidentally, I don't know why "Lily, Rosemary & The Jack Of Hearts" is so maligned. I loved the song from my first listen! Repetitive in some sense, yes, but it is a lyrics song to me - "Desolation Row" could also be seen as repetitive, but I don't think too many people complain about the lyrics there. So I guess people don't like the narrative? Ah well.

Dylan seems to have sent shockwaves through his fanbase in Chronicles, where he claimed that one of his albums was based on short stories on Chekhov, while critics thought it was autobiographical. Naturally, the most obvious candidate for this album would be BOTT, which has always been taken to be about his marriage. Some people seem to feel that this means a lot of what has been written about the album is now wrong, but I don't think this is necessarily true. While I initially felt that this was a big development, on reconsideration I think it is more an interesting backstory. I don't know if I ever felt that the songs were explicitly about his marriage, in an autobiographical sense - as in, I don't think I thought, for instance, that the story of "Tangled Up In Blue" was based on what happened to him. But I did think, and still do think, that the underlying material itself was forged from what was happening in his personal life. For starters, it surely isn't a coincidence that he chose to write an album almost entirely about loss (loosely speaking) when his own marriage was dissolving? Even if they were based on Chekhov stories, the particular stories he chose seem to have a thread that is surely the influence of marriage! Or do I just not know my Chekhov...!?! :)

I guess what I am arguing is that even if, say, "Idiot Wind" doesn't necessarily imply that he was angry at Sara at the time, it doesn't make it any less of a powerful song (which I think most people would agree with), and it doesn't make it any less of a personal song (in a different sense, of course).

* I don't know if I have it in me, just yet, to listen to any of my old Dylan albums in their entirety, for some strange reason.

Musical retrospective 2006

It is always interesting to reflect on the musical year, as it seems to reveal things that are on one level remarkable, but on another seem rather ordinary. For instance, the past year is memorable in that I managed, in the space of 8 months or so, to develop a near complete Paul Simon collection (barring the soundtrack to One Trick Pony; but to make up, I have the VHS of the movie...), and I am not sure how to react. Sure, it is quite a collection, and I would not say it is money wasted. At the same time, it is maybe a little scary how resolute and determined I was towards a goal that is inherently ephemeral; I am almost left asking "And where has this got me?". But in truth, as the man said, maybe I think too much for my own good.

About his catalogue, then - it is very good, certainly a worthy successor to the Simon & Garfunkel one, and in keeping with the ancient tradition of me discovering an artist's entire catalogue in the span of year, it has basically overshadowed all other competition (although I do think about the Moz a fair bit, but anyway). Not that I mind, since it is quite a rewarding collection of songs the man has penned. And funnily enough, some of the most memorable ones come from a seemingly inconsequential album from 2000, You're The One, which makes it all the better, seeing as how I have discovered a lost trove of negotations & love songs that even Simon fans write off as a desparate attempt to reach the commercial mass. I'm not all that sure that it did (reach the masses, that is), you know, but although I see where they're coming from, it does nothing to dilute my love of the album. It is in keeping with my discovery each year of an album that is in some way magical. It may not be his best album (Graceland), or even my favourite of his (Hearts and Bones), but it is his most mysterious, and possibly his most consistent.

I do not think it wise to spend a lot of time analyzing lyrics and the like, because they need the warmth of the music. I will say that he is a fine lyricist, and certainly one of the more unique ones I've heard. I'd wager that a lot of people understandably, but mistakenly, judge him solely on Graceland for lyrical talent - and I don't think it is wholly representative of what he can do. "Graceland" is a fine song lyrically, and it is clear enough that you are dealing with an interesting songwriter ("I Know What I Know" and "Gumboots", for instance, are not conventional songs), but he has done other things. If you take Graceland alone, you would miss gems on his debut, Paul Simon, which was good enough to make Robert Chrisigau smile. "Mother and Child Reunion" is obviously excellent, "Duncan" slightly less obviously so, but my secret treasures here are "Run That Body Down" and even more esoterically, "Papa Hobo" ("It's carbon and monoxide / The old Detroit perfume"). There is more still to be found on Hearts and Bones (what immediately comes to mind are the title track, and "Train In The Distance") and You're The One ("The Teacher", and of course "Hurricane Eye"), but it gets a bit tedious listing out all the well written tracks after a point. Suffice to say, he can write, and in my book he is nowhere near being the simple Dylan follower he could so easily have been painted as when he started out. In fact, his catalogue is done a favour by the fact that by the time of his first album, he had already been writing for quite a few years with Simon & Garfunkel - as a result, he starts off quite polished already, having matured as a songwriter.

Not that there was no-one else in the year. The Moz, as I mentioned, was always around in spirit, even though I only really listened to Your Arsenal, one of those "good but not great" albums. The big figue at the start of the year was McCartney, with London Town, which belongs in the same category I guess, but which deserves a bit more recognition for the fact that there are so many good songs, even if he doesn't seem to be able to produce that one truly blissful song, as he did on all previous albums I've heard. But "London Town", "Famous Groupies", "Deliver Your Children" and, of course, "The Backwards Traveller"? Well, any album with all that is worth whatever other flaws it may possess. There was more McCartney, you know - Venus and Mars, to be precise, which was a disappointment though; take "Call Me Back Again". The first ten seconds seem to set up something truly special; I seem to have a soft spot for '50s rockers as done by either of the Beatles' frontmen. But then it turns into something merely listenable, for me anyway, and the opportunity seems lost. There are some highs - "Love In Song" is a great song, the kind I missed on London Town, but in all I just went in expecting too much. I think it needs a little time and perseverance, and as such it is not a bad album.

Oh, and there was some Dylan too. To be precise, some bootleg songs that have really taken me by surprise. I usually don't have the patience to listen to outtakes and demos and what have you, and haven't yet felt the need to explore these alternate catalogues of artists. If I were to do it for anyone, it would be Dylan of course, and so I dutifully listened to some of the songs on The Genuine Bootleg Series (don't be fooled by the "genuine" in the title, though, this is not an official release). It was better than expected, and unearthed some truly good songs that ought to be on some official release. I really liked the version of "Blind Willie McTell" that finally made me like the song (the one on the official bootleg series just seemed ok to me), but certainly the best discovery was "I'm Not There". I've seen it described as Dylan's most "musical" song, which may well be true, but for me it confirms that there is some sort of genius to the man. It is hard to put one's finger on it, but I felt that it was truly a stroke of luck to come across it, and at the same time it was shocking that a normal Dylan fan could go through his/her life without ever hearing this song. Somewhere in Invisible Republic, there is a quote from a book whose narrator hears the song playing at a party, and then proceeds to tell the person next to her (to paraphrase) "This may be the finest song ever written". With a quote like that, even if you disagree, you sometimes stop to wonder...

The miscellania include Eno's Here Come The Warm Jets (which for some reason doesn't click just yet) and Prince's Purple Rain (bought solely at the behest of the 'Capn, and it has turned out to be surprisingly good), but not much else. Although I did have a brief revelation after seeing a Beach Boys documentary, wherein I felt that they were musical geniuses I had unjustly neglected. I came upon their Good Vibrations boxset, which I will try to listen to more in '07 (thus far, I am happy at finally having a version of "Heroes And Villains", which is funny and catchy; a rare mix!).

A slowish year, but not slow enough to make me skip the lists.

Most rewarding purchase: Paul Simon's Paul Simon, which I got on the heels of listening to Bridge Over Troubled Water. I was greeted with "Mother And Child Reunion", and the rest is history.

Favourite album: Paul Simon's Hearts And Bones, which I have come to think of as one of those "songwise perfect" albums, where there is nary a weak number in sight. Musically and lyrically, a true gem, and rightfully a fan favourite.

Favourite (standard) songs:
1. Bob Dylan, "I'm Not There" - Unfair, really, because it seems like one of those songs from a different plane
2. Paul Simon, "Think Too Much (a)" - When you manage to hit home lyrically and do it in an interesting manner (I'm almost sure the musical effects are courtesy of Philip Glass), you usually get my attention
3. Paul Simon, "Slip Slidin' Away" - Don't be fooled, it is serious, even though it is effortlessly melodic

Favourite (esoteric) songs:
1. Paul McCartney, "The Backwards Traveller" - It's only 1 minute, but this is an esoteric list
2. Paul Simon, "Papa Hobo" - The feel is enough to carry the song
3. Bob Dylan, "I'm Your Teenage Prayer" - It is always nice to hear Bobby having a good time, because it often results in memorable songs

Most wrongly dismissed (by the public) album: In my opinion, Paul Simon's Songs From The Capeman, which I love for reasons I cannot explain. I actually tried to find out more about the theory of doo-wop to see why something so simple can feel so powerful, but I was unsuccessful. "Adios Hermanos" and "Satin Summer Nights" have been stuck in my head for a long time, with no sign of tiring.

Most satisfying re-evaluation: Nick Cave's No More Shall We Part, which I once thought was dull and "samey-sounding". Uh, right. "Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow" is the work of a genius, and I find myself oddly captivated by the striking piano notes in "The Sorrowful Wife". "As I Sat Sadly By Her Side" is still my favourite here, and is probably too good an opener in that it sets too high a standard for the rest to follow. Still, the album is far more enjoyable than I thought.

Most amazing first-listen: Close - I would call a tie between Paul Simon's "Adios Hermanos" and John Cale's "Dying On The Vine". The latter features a delightful piano melody that reaffirmed my interest in classical music - it reveals that the instrument needn't only be used for slow ballads.

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It's interesting to note, by the way, that I should be completely neglecting Surprise, Modern Times, and Ringleader Of The Tormentors, the actual '06 releases, but I guess that is the way I am with music (always one step ahead of the pack, you see).

There are no particular predictions for next year - last year's, by the way, were dismally wrong, for I did not purchase a single album by the Cocteau twins, Sparks or Ween. I suspect the Cave collection may see a new addition, and maybe a Prince album here and there, but otherwise who knows? Things are getting out of hand in the "to listen to" department - I probably have enough to get me through the whole year, but what fun would that be?

Even though it has been a good two or three years since I've heard a Dylan album in a sitting, I've recently dispelled the notion that my tastes had somehow moved on past him. It would have been an unfathomable suggestion at one point, but there was a time not so long ago, when I re-played some of his tracks that weren't particularly familiar to me, that I began to wonder whether he was no longer doing it for me. It turns out, however, that perhaps those tracks were not so familiar for a reason*!

I've chanced upon snippets of the Genuine Basement Tapes, which are proving to be most interesting. I always loved a few tracks from the officially issued Basement Tapes, but on the whole I thought of it as something of loads of historical, rather than musical interest. I never did understand what so many critics were raving about, but only now have I realized that they were raving about a 5 CD set, not the official 2 CD one! There are a couple of songs in particular that have made me think that I've cracked it, and figured out the difference between greatness and genius. Since I'm sometimes quite cynical, I think it also to be the difference between Dylan and his many followers, whose talents range from genuine to merely perfunctory. I listened to "Frankie Lee And Judas Priest", and "Jokerman", and after marvelling that the same person wrote both songs, I realized what good friends they (the songs) were, and how I don't think I've heard anyone else who has managed to approach Dylan in terms of songwriting. Moments of genius I've heard plenty, but I suppose Dylan was there first, and will probably never be bested - at least, not to my ears.

* No naming names, but it's clear that not everything he did was genius, or even very good. As with pretty much every artist, I suppose.

No Direction Home was very enjoyable, as expected, and further drove home the point that Dylan absolutely hated being labelled "the voice of a generation" and all that jazz. My favourite moment (that I can remember) is an early performance of "Mr. Tambourine Man" at a folk-festival. It was so bitterly funny trying to imagine what those gathered there must have thought when they were expecting some solid folkie tunes, but instead got "And take me disappearing through the smoke-rings of my mind"! It also made me wish that I was around, just to experience the phenomenon first hand. Somehow I feel we won't see such a radical extension of music make it to the mainstream (for all I know, the avant-garde groups are doing some truly mind-expanding stuff now) and change the landscape of popular music.

You know, Simon & Garfunkel's (well, I'm pretty sure it's purely Paul Simon's creation actually!) "A Simple Desultory Philippic" really surprises me. I always knew that Paul Simon was an exceedingly interesting lyricist, but I always pictured him as a soft person, never the kind to write something like this, (what seems to be) a somewhat harsh Dylan parody (see here for someone else who thinks so!). If one believes that it is in fact a parody, then what's strange to me is how they covered "The Times They Are A Changin'" on Wednesday Morning, 3AM with perfect sincerity - I'm trying to think whether something Dylan did in between the two abums is what ticked Simon off. Mayhaps he didn't like his new direction with Bringing It All Back Home, although I don't know why that would warrant such a reaction.

I remember reading an interview with Simon where he laughed off the rumour that "The Boxer" was about Dylan (it's one of the many interviews on this neat little page). It's quite a quirky rumour, actually, for it claims that the "Lai lai lai" chorus is in fact "Lie lie lie", referring to the fact that Dylan's not Bobby's real name. You sort of wish that this were true, 'twould take one whacked out lyricist to come up with that...anyhow, in the interview, I remember Simon saying that he wouldn't write a song about Dylan because he didn't know anything about his personal life. I'd like to believe him, really, but you listen to "Phillipic" and tell me what else it could be about! I suppose it's quite possible that it's more an attack on the kind of snob who sneers whenever he talks to someone who "...when you say Dylan / He thinks you're talking about Dylan Thomas / (Whoever he was)". But, the Dylan parody, whether it's meant to be teasing or biting, is certainly there - it's hard to interpret the vocal delivery style, the overt Dylan references ("It's alright ma / 'Cause everybody must get stoned"), the harmonica snippets and the closing "I lost my harmonica, Albert" as anything other than poking fun at Dylan!

There is the view that Dylan retaliated to this insult with a cover of "The Boxer" (hmm interesting that I should be perfectly ok with Dylan's "spoof" yet write this long post in Simon's case!). My own reaction to it is rather funny - initially, I loved it, and thought it must be better than the original (which I don't remember hearing in its entirety at this point). It was as though I thought "Covers of Dylan songs aren't as likeable as the originals, and so Dylan's own covers must be better than the originals" (of course, after really hearing the original since then, I think it is the surely the stronger song, though the cover suits a particular mood). It is only when I read that the song was supposedly a parody that I started to see where these people were coming from - I'd never considered the delivery to be sloppy previously, but on reconsideration I guess it is, almost purposely so. I always took it to be part of the idiosyncratic charm of the song! As for whether I think it a parody or not, I am really unsure. Sometimes I hear it and think it's just too quick and subdued to be a serious take, but then other times I take this to be a very legitimate interpretation, if only for a different mood and time.

Whether Simon harboured resent over the idolization of Dylan by the masses, I am not sure. I got the feeling that there was an undercurrent of this amongst people who saw the case of Lou Reed as being one of "Take Reed if you want a real poet, and Dylan if you want some phoney for the masses" - it isn't exactly jealousy, but there is the feeling that one's favourite artist has been unjustly overlooked in favour of a less deserving one. Simon, in his early days anyway, definitely seems more like a poet of old than Dylan, simply because of the choice of imagery and the general thematics of the lyrics. Whether he's more of a poet full-stop is another question (My answer? The question has none). Yet I'd be disappointed if Simon saw Dylan as a faux-poet or something of the sort. One can certainly accuse "Subterranean Homesick Blues" (which, incidentally, "Phillipic" is supposed to be based on) of being nothing more than a mish-mash of random words. But as rock's most charming poet* would say, "People see no worth in you / But I do". I dunno, I think there's something more than that to the song. It isn't just the lyrics, great as they are** - it's just the fact that it's a short punch of the surreal, what with the frantic guitar (what an unforgettable opening to the song!) and the very style of the delivery. Maybe the lyrics don't mean*** anything, but I don't think I'm kidding myself when I say that it somehow works.

I guess I wouldn't say that Dylan is about the lyrics, and the lyrics alone. For the songs that really work, it's his delivery of said lyrics that will probably win you over. I have a book of the man's lyrics, but simply out of homage to him, as I really don't see myself pulling the book out anytime soon to bask in the words. The reason I say it's not just the lyrics is that I'm not particularly fond of The Byrds' cover of "Mr. Tambourine Man", nor am I in awe of Hendrix's "All Along The Watchtower"****. The originals are far more moving, where Dylan seems to find just the right way to speak those magical lines of his ("Yes the dance beneath the diamond sky"...).

I sometimes think that Dylan suffers from people like me who gush about him and then go on about his lyrics. The problem is that people can go into it expecting an actual poem or something of the sort, but it's not quite that. Poetic, no doubt (at least to me), but there is still a ways to go before we call him a poet. Rock's poet-laureate, maybe, but like I've said before, I don't think one should necessarily consider this to be the same as a "real" poet. Rock-poetry is a different beast, and if you can take the good with the bad, it's ultimately very rewarding.

At any rate, I have a CD of a Simon/Dylan concert that was held sometime in the last ten years, so I guess any problems they had in the past are for the most part resolved. There's an interesting article about these concerts here. There is the interesting point made that Simon was not part of Dylan's 30th anniversary celebration, but perhaps that is not as surprising as it is on first mention. After all, Simon's writing style is a fair ways away from Dylan's, so it's hard to call Dylan a direct mentor of Simon. Whether or not Dylan opened the doors for Simon's own instrospective writing I am not sure - Simon's writing is clearly in a niche of its own by Sounds Of Silence, which is what, 1965?

But, all that aside, even I have to admit that "Phillipic"'s riff is insanely catchy, as are the lyrics themselves. "I've been Norman Maillered, Maxwell Taylored" indeed!

* Shucks, Morrissey comes awful close to being a poet, don't he? One cannot measure the worth of "Reel Around The Fountain" in gold.

** Once you start singing, it's hard to stop - but it's very easy to get breathless. In my youth, I've tried and failed several times to match Dylan's delivery, but it was just too much. Someday.

*** And when do lyrics "mean" something? Oh my, deja vu...

**** I find it interesting that so many people refer to Hendrix's cover as being clearly better than the original (some going so far to assert "We all know that Dylan's songs are better when they are covered by other people". Wow!), again simply because I like how people can see things in such different ways. To me, the original is far more ominous and powerful - "Let us not speak falsely now / The hour is getting late", then that harmonica. Ooh, don't make them like that anymore.

Hey now! John Cale picks Highway 61 Revisited as one of his favourite albums in the regular Rolling Stone page on artists' picks. He even goes on to say how Lou Reed and him would sit down and listen to Dylan on the radio, wondering how his increasing aggression would pan out (culminated, he says, by "Positively 4th Street"). God knows what all that stuff I read on the net about the intense dislike the Velvets had for Dylan was going on about (things which I wailed about here and here, for instance). Actually, Reed probably did say all that stuff in '76, he's one wacky fella.

Why the continued fascination on other people's opinions on Dylan? I have no idea, to be honest. I don't know why it should bother me even if Lou Reed dislikes him to the day (wouldn't explain his appearance at Bob's 30th anniversary special, though!). I guess at heart it's a curiosity of whether two people I respect don't appreciate each other (actually, I've never heard Dylan say anything about Lou), and if so, why that is the case. I guess at some point one has to give up, and put it down to personality mismatches. I mean, hey, this is Lou Reed we're talking about, after all!

I don't know what I want the truth to be - that these guys should have had more of a Beatles-Stones relationship (rivalry on the surface combined with goodwill underneath)? Ah heck, this is all so trivial! But alas, it's hard to let go! Surely time is better spent on more important matters; like, say, finding out what really went on between Morrissey and Robert Smith.

I came across a book of Lester Bang's reviews and musings on rock in general, and my impression is fairly positive (by which I suppose I mean that I can relate to most of his views, and that his writing of a good quality; or something along these lines). I only became aware of this legendary critic through his praise of VU, specifically White Light/White Heat, and at the time it struck me that he was the sort of person who'd embrace the rawer sounds of say the Stooges and the Ramones, but reject new friends like Eno. After all, I remember hearing WL/WH and thinking it to be near unbearable - I still can't believe I sat through all of "Sister Ray"...painful! It was of course quite rash of me to make such judgements, for he seems to like them all with equal discretion; Another Green World he says is too "becalmed", but he still digs it. I also thought that he'd be another vitriolic Doors-hater, judging by the exchange in Almost Famous (where Morrison is called a "drunken buffoon"), but his view is far more measured (though Morrison's still a "Dionysian bozo"!), and in fact about as close to my own view as I've seen.

He doesn't always read my mind though, as with his scathing review of Desire. As I have mellowed, I have to come to see the merits in such criticisms of later Dylan efforts, regardless of my own sentimental attachments (Desire was the first Dylan album I heard, doncha know). I've read before critique of Dylan's idealization in "Joey" and "Hurricane", and I don't doubt the validity of such arguments. But it strikes me also that there are..different ways to view things? My way of listening and appreciating Desire was cemented four years ago, and I doubt very much it will change now, no matter how persuasive the writing is. I suppose when I listened to "Hurricane" all those years ago, what I was drawn to was the passion and anger that I felt the song conveyed - the story was put across (I thought) effectively, with a truly moody violin providing quite an atypical sound for a Dylan album (at that stage of course, I had no idea what a typical Dylan sound was). Having said this, I do of course confess that such a thing is not alway enough to obviate onesself from responsibility; after all, writing convincingly does not mean one can write about anything, true or false! But like I said, my view has already been cemented, and that view (unfortunately) totally disregards the points made by critics of the song. In some sense, it does not bode well, for it is a very severe case of close-mindedness! Of course with such matters, it does not matter all that much, and indeed even if it did, this is one of those things where I simply don't care. With this made perfectly clear, it's probably a very good thing that there aren't more people like me, the world would be far too messed up to be remotely functional.

Oh, right, I was talking about Lester Bangs - well, another thing I found interesting was that he also predicted the death of rock circa '76, a bold statement to make, but it's easy to see such a motivation. He was a little premature (but I have the gift of hindsight!), but I guess that's the stage when most of the rockers from the golden age started showing signs of being jaded. Of course, it was also the start of the punk-rock movement, and I'm interested as to what Bangs thought about it. John Peel certainly took to it, I believe in fact going so far as to call The Fall the best band he'd ever heard (it's strange to think that the same person could lend his voice to Tyrannosaurus Rex's "Romany Soup" back in '69, ain't it!!). The Fall, now there's a crafty bunch. I'm interested in their catalogue, but frankly I'm a little scared - this is the problem with reading one too many reviews without listening to anything, they can create these outlandish (sometimes garish) images of things that are completely far from the truth (or, at least, from one's personal reaction to something). I'd wager that by this time next year I'd have acquired (probably through fraternal means) one of the 40-odd albums Mark E. Smith put his name to, so let us see what time makes of this curious band; with such high praise, they're bound to disappoint at least a little (or maybe not!?).

Again I am drawn to George Starostin's essay about rock being dead, and whether or not it matters; considering it was written six or so years ago, where (presuming the lack of inclusion on the site implies lack of listening to said artist; which may be flawed) he hadn't heard a fair amount of post '60s material that's now featured on his site, so I wonder whether his views have changed. I suspect that he might have changed his view a little, to the extent of admitting that rock did have a few tricks up its sleeve in the late '70s (he sure loves Before And After Science!), but I think he'd still be pretty adamant about rock being dead; not that I can blame him. Dead, of course, meaning not that every melody in the world has been used up, or every chord change or what have you, but rather the broader ideas surrounding rock. I don't think that rock is necessarily dead, but it's probably dying (this whole area is rather subjective, because one would have to properly define what innovation really means in this context). I think that I fall into the camp of "Well, rock may be dying, but it doesn't matter..too much", in that I can deal with the fact that most artists today aren't bravely ploughing ahead into unchartered waters. For instance, Cave (really the only post-1980 artist I'm moderately familiar with) may not have produced any sort of true innovation since his Birthday Party days, but these things don't seem to matter all that much to me. I don't think George necessarily disagrees that there is still good music being made, rather it's that this music is not providing something that hasn't been done before, only in a slightly tweaked way. All I can hope for is that I don't run out of interesting artists in my lifetime - though it seems like "the future's uncertain and the end is always near"!

I suppose I was asking for trouble when I posted something nice about the Velvet Underground a few days ago; it always seems that whenever I give them credit, for some reason "they" do something to irk me. In this case, it was the contents of a book of writings on the group that I came across. I should've known better, what with my experience with some of the stuff Reed and Morrison have said about Dylan and Morrison (uhh Jim Morrison, that is, not Sterling, although Reed probably put down Sterling at some point!!), two artists I know and love. It seems that a lot of fans of VU share a dislike of Dylan and the Doors, which makes me wonder why this trend seems to be largely prevalent among hardcore fans of the group (the type who regard them to be the fathers of modern rock, not just a cool little avant-garde group). I think certainly part of the reason is quite simply because they feel that such artists are renowned unjustly. (Then again, it seems like everyone hates the Doors these days, so...) Dylan nowadays receives virtually all credit for making literate rock lyrics, and I think the VU fan reaction is, to some extent at least, one of envy. I've read that people maintain that Reed's lyrics were more "honest", and that Dylan's were somehow through a veneer of some sort. (Of course I disagree, but I only bring these things up out of interest). There certainly is a world of difference between say "Visions Of Johanna" and "Venus In Furs", and I can certainly see the motivation for comments about the "reality" of Reed's lyrics.

It seems to me then that it's a different view of what is important/what is good in rock lyrics which prompts the anti-Dylan sentiment. The fact that Dylan is heralded as being the greatest lyricist ever and what have you no doubt irks some VU fans who see Reed as being a revolutionary before his time. I'm not intrepid enough to try and compared the two; there are areas where both shine, and the true high points are rather distinct I think. Reed can be completely honest and truly break down the barrier between listener and singer, be it when musing over his life ("My House"), or startling confession ("Heroin"), but on the other hand. It's obvious to me that he is a gifted lyricist, but one should consider also that Dylan mastered the art of making the bizarre make sense ("Stuck Inside Of Mobile"), and his imagery is darn-near unparalleled ("Visions Of Johanna"). And Blood On The Tracks, I think, is one of the most powerful rock-albums ever. When I talked about Plastic Ono Band, I mentioned how it was far more direct, and that's true; BOTT doesn't start off with "Mother, you had me, but I never had you". But it doesn't seem right to compare the two, because POB doesn't have anything like "Simple Twist Of Fate", say. Much like the Reed/Dylan divide, I think some things just can't be put side by side and critically contrasted, with a "winner" being determined.

And of course when one mentions The Doors, one of the first things bandied around is that they introduced the dark side of rock. I actually traced "Heroin" to as early as 1964, and Jim was actually influenced by VU after seeing them play once (imagine that!! What are the odds?), so it's true that the whole dark side of life thing wasn't entirely new. The Doors seem to be universally reviled now, so it's probably not just the VU fans who hate them. I suspect most of this animosity is directed squarely at Morrison, rather than at the actual band. I think with the Doors, it is very much a philosophical objection in the most part - I think many feel the band's whole atmosphere is fake, primarily because they find Morrison's lyrics to be derivative and phoney. I disagree, of course, but again I can certainly see adequate motivation for such sentiments. Even if you enter the world of Morrison with an open mind, there's a good chance that you'll feel disgusted with what you see (or hear), and join the ever-growing (it would seem) conclave of Doors-haters (or at least Doors-dislikers, who think the band is overrated).

I don't think it's as easy to try to compare Morrison and Reed in any objective sense, but it confounds me if it's the music itself turns people off. Starostin says "Anyone who thinks the Doors are unlistenable has a hearing disorder", and although I wouldn't go that far, it seems to have the right idea. I again suspect that it's probably Morrison who gets in the way of the music sometimes for the Jim-haters - a shame, because "Peace Frog" would still be great even without Jim's little digression (which I find rather good, but anyway) in the middle.

Yet again, it truly amazes me how people can have such different points of view, and how there are so many things which can affect this!

Aside: I don't much like these posts, because there's no proper opinion being expressed. I sometimes think that I hate writing, because I find now that I have no will to write down anything about what I feel about VU in comparison to Dylan and Morrison. What is happening to me!?!

I think that to nearly any other person in the world, it would hardly be a memorable day, but I seem to revel in celebrating the non-descript. There is a problem then in attempting to capture the overwhelming beauty of what others take to be meaningless, and I run the risk of sounding like a fool (a role, thankfully, that I am used to playing). I suppose that's the way it’s always going to be; what's intensely memorable to me can seem to be laughably trivial when spelt out in words. No matter how powerfully persuasive one’s writing is, there are always some things that transcend succinct encapsulation. This is especially true with matters of a spiritual nature, which, as anyone who knows me will tell you, is how I occupy most of my time.

There have been numerous occasions when I've tried to assert that there is so much beauty in this world for one to appreciate, yet I've never been totally convincing, even to myself. I’m quite certain that nearly everything in this fair world can strike my imagination on a particular day, and make me so struck with it that I am inspired to express myself, such as with this piece of writing. This is understanable enough, but what's perilous about it is that I put myself in a particularly vulnerable position every time I attempt to open up and speak of beauty. It's true that these expressions are the result of some truly profound moment in my day that really speaks to me, and as such I tend to hold them close to my heart. As such, when such powerful sentiments are put into writing, by making a false step in my writing, it is as though I am blighting the sentiment itself!

I sometimes think it all very odd though, when at some arbitrary point of the day my mind drifts and begins to focus on the curious matters of life. Whether or not this foible is shared by the rest of the world I’ll never know, but it does make me ponder how others perceive me. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve sat staring aimlessly into space, filling my mind with strange, fanciful notions, and suddenly becoming aware of this. At these points, I look at the faces around me, and wonder whether anyone would believe that the person they see in front of them is capable of such thoughts. I wonder whether they'd believe that I am capable of viewing the world in the way I do, with an almost detached air of curiosity. Admittedly, I can't see anyone else think like I do.

On this particular day, I don’t remember much of what ensued in my morning and evening. It must have been sometime before lunch that I started to feel genuinely content. Lord help me if I sound out of my mind, but it was as though for a moment I saw my place in this universe, and gladly accepted it. Rationally reconsidering such a statement would of course lead me to state it was little more than some nebulous philosophizing, yet that would be inaccurate; as I mentioned earlier, there is an element of futility in discussing these things.

A waft of gentle breeze greeted me, and played on my eyes for a while. Temporarily distracted, I looked out the window and was greeted by a tranquil blue sky. I realize it sounds overly dramatic if I say that I saw the infinite capacity for beauty in the world, but that is in fact the truth. I told myself that there was a point to it all, and that it is beauty. I took out a book, having an intuition that this was the perfect atmosphere to read, and with the hope that the words would carry special meaning. The first page read:

"But every man is not only himself; he is also the unique, particular, always significant and remarkable point where the phenomena of the world intersect once and for all and never again. That is why every man's story is important, eternal, sacred; and why every man while he lives and fulfils the will of nature is a wonderful creature, deserving the utmost attention"

At that point, it didn’t matter just what was being said. No, all that really mattered was the spirit of it all, the soft, subdued yet overwhelming force that was exuding out of it. The ghost of Huxley reminded me not to take art too seriously, and I nodded, but there I was on an entirely different level of appreciation. The words sprung off the page as though they were being written at the very time I was reading them! I was reminded of another old friend who managed to capture my precise feelings at the time:

"And each and every one of them words rang true and glowed like burning coal,
Pouring off of each page, like it was written in my soul"

Through one of my fictional creations, I once remarked indirectly that I hadn’t cried in a long, long time, but when I said that I had associated crying with sadness. But thinking about that little window of time where everything fit into its place, I think I can come close to shedding a tear of joy. Again, I come off as overly dramatic and far too romantic to be taken seriously, but with matters so close to my heart, I find it hard to be any other way.

Hoho, I don't get Lou Reed. In 1976, he apparently claimed Dylan's worth was "two, maybe three songs", and that "It’s unfortunate for Dylan that studio techniques have improved to the point that it’s very hard for him to conceal any longer how musically bad he is". Sigh. I really don't get it - has he heard himself on any of his albums? He's..he's imitating Dylan perfectly. Does he seriously not recognize that? For some reason, I find it so funny when he does some songs, probably because I can predict exactly which words he's going to stress and accentuate. Truly amazing.

There's more, of course. He said Van Morrison only had one good song (Madame George, off Astral Weeks), and that while Neil Young was a good guitarist, his lyrics were "so stupid … so West Coast dumb". Mr. Reed, really. Heh, he sure seems like the atypical heartless so and so, but unfortunately some of his stuff is really good. If he was implying that he was better than the rest of them, though, I'd have to disagree. No doubt he was good, but rock 'n roll messiah he was not.

Of course, just because he imitates Dylan doesn't mean that it's hypocritical for him to dismiss Dylan. But it isn't in very good taste, that's for sure. And what's more, it seems a bit facetious, and purposely controversial. Perhaps if it were an artist of lesser repute, but Dylan? Nah, you have to provide some substantial reason to be taken seriously and not look like a total jerk. Then again, maybe he just wanted to get a few kicks. After all, he did have his "bad boy" image to preserve.

It also seems that Reed isn't the only one who isn't gaga over Dylan - fellow Velvet Underground bandmate Sterling Morrison confesses that he is a "Dylan hater". Sterling also thinks rock music isn't meant to be listened to for the lyrics, which is actually quite interesting. Maybe I'll write about that later on. There must be something about that band, eh? Yet their first album is so good..shucks, the inconsistencies are maddening. Not that I'd bash VU if they were really bad , of course.

It would appear that he changed his mind before he appeared on Dylan's 30th Anniversary concert celebration though, when he perfomed a hard-rocking version of Foot Of Pride. I wonder what would've happened backstage on that day...

An old saying that goes with the first VU album is that virtually no one heard it, but whoever did formed a band. After reading that and listening to the album, there's no way that you can't think the same thing! There probably isn't a weak song in the darn thing, actually, except of course the disastrous European Son. But otherwise, it's got it all - dark lyrics, creepy violas, eastern & German influences, and Dylan imitations! Heh couldn't resist that last one. But it's a seriously good album, and probably a must-have in any rock fan's collection - the sound is rather unique. After all this talk about Reed, I am a bit miffed with the band, but I forgive them.

I just saw the bit in Woody Allen's Annie Hall, where Allen's character rolls his eyes as a rock critic quotes Dylan's Just Like A Woman (followed by the amusing exchange of "Did you catch Dylan?" / "Me? No, my raccoon had hepatitis"). Seeing as how I'm no expert on Allen's works (heck, it's the first time I've seen him actually act), I've no idea whether this is reflective of his real view on Dylan. But that's irrelevant when compared to the idea of finding him (Dylan) trite, which is, I must admit, a view I've rarely heard anyone famous express (but like I said before, I don't know if Allen was serious or not). This view got me thinking.

(Everything that follows has an implicit "in my opinion" tagged at the start, by the way)

We can neglect the fact that Just Like A Woman is far from Dylan's highlight as a lyricist; the song itself is not bad, but the man has done much better things with his words than this. Why focus on the lyrics? Well, Dylan's influence was always, I think, primarily with his lyrics. My music-listening experience has confirmed the widely-held view Dylan revolutionized the concept of the song lyric as he incorporated beat poetry (yes, I do consider some of his stuff poetry) and opened up the door to stream of consciousness style composition. Along with The Beatles, Dylan pretty much shaped the face of most of rock music that followed in some way or the other.

Ok, so Dylan was influential. But that doesn't necessarily mean that he was good, does it? Of course not! The important thing then is whether or not his work was of a sufficient standard to be taken seriously. Lines like

She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl

'Just Like A Woman' - Dylan

certainly don't sound too good when read out loud (which is the case in Annie Hall). But then again, what about

The palace of mirrors
Where dog soldiers are reflected,
The endless road and the wailing of chimes,
The empty rooms where her memory is protected,
Where the angels' voices whisper to the souls of previous times

'Changing Of The Guards' - Dylan

That sounds a bit more "poetic". One can deconstruct and analyse the lyrics as one would a poem, if only to gain an idea of how "complex" it is. I doubt it would be possible to use this to show how "good" a poem is, but still, it's something. So we have a way of establishing that yes, Dylan's work was indeed complex. You can't dismiss all his stuff as easily as you could Just Like A Woman (from a lyrical point of view, I reiterate) as somewhat trivial and, arguably, banal.

But do these "poetic" lyrics actually mean anything? If they don't, does it really matter? These are tricky questions. For the first one, I think in a lot of cases, the lyrics mean whatever you want them to mean. That may sound rather cheap, but I wonder the fact that the composer's attached meaning to a lyric alters the power of one's personal meaning. Does it matter if Dylan didn't intend Desolation Row to be semi-autobiographical (which I think it is)? I don't think so.

A good essay on this by Robert Hunter (lyricist for the Grateful Dead) is found here. He analyses one of his songs to counter the claim put up that his lyrics make no sense. Before doing so, he notes that "I may know where they (the lyrics) come from, but I don't know where they've been".

This doesn't mean that you can pass off any old nonsense as "good poetry" just because someone can attach any meaning they want to it. I could write

The wailing catfish scratches on my glass
While the open mouth is silent with sounds
Of tears falling down my cheeks

off the top of my head, but that doesn't necessarily make it brilliant because you can interpret it as being an epic postmodernist view of romance in a crazy world. I think it's the way in which the lyric is presented that determines this - allusion, imagery, etc.

The argument then of songs not having any readily identifiable meaning is perhaps not as simple as one would think.

So there are times when as of themselves, the lyrics can't possibly mean anything. We attach meaning to them, but I think it's wrong to associate the composers meaning with the meaning of the lyric itself. Of course, there are the lyrics where the meaning is (seemingly) straightforward:

I've heard you say many times
That you're better 'n no one
And no one is better 'n you.
If you really believe that,
You know you got
Nothing to win and nothing to lose

'To Ramona' - Dylan

Here the meaning can't be hidden under allegory or the like - it's just a statement made by Dylan. So here again it's the way in which the statement is made that's important. Does it boil down to personal taste? I wonder.

I don't think I've quite made my point, partly because I'm not quite sure what it was supposed to be. That Dylan was a good lyricist, not some pretentious twit who strung a few words together? Ehhh possibly. I also fear I've treaded on the subjectivity/objectivity debacle, and the question of intrinsic/extrinsic value. Time to get out Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance.

And just to reiterate one final time, I really like Just Like A Woman, especially the version on the Concert For Bangladesh. I just share Allen's character's view that those particular lines are nothing special. They're not bad, but they're not genius (as a lot of his other work was).