In the mid-80’s, a 60’s revival grabbed frequency waves on the FM dial. Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, and the Doors were making a comeback. The station format was Classic Rock and Roll. The music of the day was dominated by pop superstars Prince, Madonna and Michael Jackson. On the opposite spectrum, synth-inspired bands like Depeche Mode, New Order and the Cure emerged as leaders of the New Wave movement.
It contrast to the plastic, artificial contemporary music, Classic Rock sounded raw, genuine and edgy. Cassettes and vinyl were selling briskly at mega-stores like Tower Records and mall-friendly Sam Goody’s. CD’s had not yet entered the picture. The durability of the vinyl format, especially the long-play 33 revolution-per-minute albums, gave youngsters the ability to discover classic rock artists at used record stores and garage sale bins. My dad’s music collection was dominated by classical music. His favorite was Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”. His vinyl collection included hundreds of symphonies. Beethoven and Tchaikovsky were also among his favorites.
While thumbing through his collection, I was blown away to discover three and only three rock albums. “Sgt Pepper’s”, “Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits”, and “Bob Dylan” (Bob’s eponymous 1st record). Could my dad once have liked cool music? He immigrated from Korea in the 60’s and received his PhD from the now defunct Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute. In the mid 80’s, despite it being over a decade since Abbey Road’s release date, the Beatles were my favorite band. I dusted off my dad’s “Sgt. Pepper’s” album and put it in heavy rotation on my turntable.
Z107, Houston’s Classic Rock station, would sometimes play “Blowin’ In the Wind”, “Like a Rolling Stone” and “Rainy Day Women”, but Bob Dylan was a lesser god in my pantheon of musical heroes. The first time listening to my dad’s “Dylan’s Greatest Hits” vinyl record was filled with confusion and surprise. The nasal voice and piercing harmonica was unlike anything I was listening to at the time. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cheer. As I got familiar with the songs, the album grabbed a hold of me. “Mr. Tambourine Man” was my favorite song from the “Greatest Hits” album. The Dylan version sounded deeper and more soulful that the better-known, ethereal, over-produced Byrd’s version.
I didn’t know what to make of Dylan’s first album. The gravelly voice and haunting death-obsessed songs were a stark departure from the “Greatest Hits” collection. I couldn’t reconcile that the voice on the album was coming from the same man who gave us “Like a Rolling Stone.” His voice sounded so world-weary and knowing. My favorites from that album were “Baby Let Me Follow You Down” and “Talkin’ New York”.
Hearing “Greatest Hits”and “Bob Dylan” a few dozen times, I was now an official Bob Dylan fan, but not much more. The turning point was the “Biograph” box set. The limitations of FM radio were evident as songs that received no air play such as “Desolation Row”, “Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall”, and “It’s All Over Now Baby Blue” were unleashed to me. The lyrics of these masterpieces towered over his better known songs, such as “Blowin’ in the Wind”. The “Biograph” box set provided hours of listening pleasure. With “Biograph”, I captured a fuller glimpse of Dylan’s genius. In my musical heavens, the Beatles star remained brilliant, yet on the wane. The Dylan constellation was soaring in a complex and ever-changing pattern. Dylan now stood alone.
With the 3-cassette “Biograph”, “Freewheelin’ ” cassette, and the vinyl copies of “Greatest Hits”, “Bob Dylan”, “Blood on the Tracks” and “Down in the Groove”, I mistakenly assumed I had absorbed the bulk of Dylan’s work. My junior year at Vanderbilt circa 1991 would shatter this misconception. I was hauling my stuff up to our 9th floor dorm apartment where my roommates Chris Soule, Poke and I would live for the next two semesters. Our good friends and fraternity brothers, Steve Barrett and James Peterson, were housed one room down.
As I exited the elevator and made my way down the hall, the echo sounds of a high-pitched harmonica and the rhythmic bass of an acoustic guitar emanated from Steve and James’ dorm room. The sound was too muffled to fully make out. What I was hearing would later become the anchor soundtrack of our wing of the 9th Floor Morgan dorm. I was hearing Steve’s “Bootleg” box set.
During the early 90’s, the Grateful Dead had reached the peak of their already legendary status. They enjoyed a devoted cult-like following on our campus. Steve had long been a devoted Deadhead. The Dylan and the Dead concerts reinforced the importance of Dylan to Mr. Barrett.
A couple of years earlier, Nirvana smashed through. They had breathed life into the then-lethargic rock landscape. Rock music had been suffering from a post-Heavy Metal hangover. Metallica was the sole bright light remaining from the genre. By 1991, Nirvana-inspired bands like Pearl Jam and Stone Temple Pilots were capitalizing on the grunge breakout. Although Dylan never fell from the musical pedestal I placed him on, he was increasingly removed from my consciousness. “Nevermind”, Jane’s Addiction’s “Ritual de lo Habitual”, the Red Hot Chili Peppers “Freaky Styley” and the like occupied regular slots in my 5-disc CD-changer.
Steve Barrett and “Bootleg Series 1–3” revitalized my appreciation of Dylan. Just when I thought I had a fix on Dylan, this new material demanded further analysis. Dylan refused to stay in the neatly cataloged box I had previously placed him. On top of the “Bootleg” revelation, D.A. Pennebaker’s “Don’t Look Back” was another seismic event. 1991 turned out to be an important year for my informal Dylan studies. I had seen few visual and virtually no video images of Dylan prior to watching “Don’t Look Back”. Seeing a young Dylan as he transitioned from folk-hero to rock-Judas was absorbing. The scene where Dylan virtually eviscerates Donovan with an inspired and provocative private performance of “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” is sublime. Pennebaker masterfully documents the enigma and charisma of Dylan in this groundbreaking film.
In 2004, my son was born. His name is Dylan.
As my two children get older, I am able to relive many past memories. I was excited to introduce my kids to classic movies such as “Star Wars”, “Superman”, and “Back to the Future”. These films provided me joy, laughter and amazement in my youth. When indulging in nostalgic remembrances, I discovered a downside. Many of my favorite movies failed to live up to my boyhood memories.
We humans are uniquely equipped to normalize exciting new experiences. We quickly tire of the familiar. There is no way to recapture the novelty of the new. The stronger the positive memories, the higher the risk of shattering our fond mental images of these formative events. By staying in the present, we protect our treasured memories from our better developed critical aesthetic standards. To that end, many of my heroes have been shelved away for safe keeping away from such scrutiny.
I was looking through our home library recently. I found a copy of “Chronicles: Volume One”. I looked at the inscription on the back of the cover. The book was a birthday gift from my sister back in 2004. Somehow this book had been tucked away unread. It has been lost in the clutter of our home for over a decade.
I eyed the book with a mixture of excitement and dread. Would it be wise to reopen the Dylan file? What if “Chronicles” proved to be incoherent? Worse, what if author came out looking pompous and pretentious?
As the first scene in New York City unfolds, I was quickly assuaged. The memoir is a strong format for Dylan to showcase another side of his brilliance. As with “Don’t Look Back”, Dylan proves to excel in many different mediums. Towards the mid-point of “Chronicles”, the pages were becoming heavy. The memoirs was following a mostly linear chronological pattern. The narrator was growing older with each scene. The “Oh Mercy” sessions were particularly distressing. I imagined Dylan struggling to recapture the brilliance which came so easy in his twenties.
It reminded my of “No Direction Home”. The documentary begins with Dylan at the height of his fame. The movie concludes with a world-weary man dogged by fans who can’t accept that he was evolving faster than they. I worried that “Chronicles” would follow a similar pathway. Dylan’s youthful energy giving way to the ravages of decades of hard-travelling.
Dylan is timeless. A man who should not be confined to the standard aging process. I hoped that “Chronicles” would break with the traditional young-to-old chronology. Dylan does not disappoint. Towards the end of “Chronicles”, Dylan rewinds and floats back to his pre-New York City time in Minneapolis. Here he discovers the music of Woody Guthrie. He illustrates how Guthrie served as the inspirational force that unleashed his creative energy. “Chronicles” ends with Dylan in New York City. His future is wide open.
Through the 320 pages, you are taken full circle and witness the rebirth of Dylan. He refuses to fade quietly. He heeds his immortalized warning he so poignantly espoused in “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)”. There is more joy and hope than wisdom in “Chronicles”. That’s right on. Dylan is not a man to indulge in nostalgic waxing.
The streaming nature of music complicates a methodical deconstruction of Dylan’s musical work. Prose is different. A student can review and analyze the work with far more control. “Chronicles” is striking in a number of ways.
- Memory recall. An event or scene more than 40 years prior is described with exacting recall.
- Sensory awareness. Dylan’s stories are infused with heightened sensory perception. Sonic, visual, aromatic, and tactile information bring the scenes alive and transports the reader into the frame.
- Emotional presence. As Dylan jumps back and forth from events in his life, he becomes the Dylan from the period he is defining. As he determinedly works to gain Dave Von Ronk’s confidence, he is not the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame superstar reflecting on his journey to fame. He is the young journeyman folk singer figuring how best to impress the local folk impresario.
- Instant knowledge. Dylan crashes at a friend’s house in New York. His friend has numerous books of philosophers, poets, and literary giants. In a few months, he absorbs a lifetime of knowledge from history’s greatest minds. Dylan is able to do the same with music. He can listen to an album and learn to play the songs with lightening rapidity.
The nature of Dylan’s genius is fascinating.
Could it be that Dylan is blessed with a photographic memory?
This explanation seems too shallow. If there is a link between musical virtuosity and having a photographic memory, I am unaware of such a corollary. Additionally, Dylan is original in his musical composition and lyrics. I am also unaware of a linkage between creativity and having a photographic memory. In fact, it seems that a photographic memory may even block highly original thoughts.
What about heightened sensory awareness?
Could it be that Dylan has both a photographic memory and heightened sensory awareness? Athletes in the zone and people on an LSD trip recall experiencing heightened sensory awareness. They describe these mystical experiences as episodes where time had radically slowed. In this altered state, these participants are able to achieve elite performance or breakthrough thought patterns. Is Bob Dylan naturally tripping? The psychedelic era that followed Sgt Pepper’s release illustrates the limit of that art form. Though there were important acid-induced, artistic breakouts, the public’s appetite for such expression would fade as the art devolved into overly esoteric work.
The Dylan genius may require a more mystical explanation.
The reincarnation theory.
How can we explain the genius of Mozart and Tiger Woods? Both men were legendarily precocious. Mozart began composing at the age of 5. Tiger Woods began golfing at the age of 2. In the debate of nature versus nurture, we cannot easily explain these phenoms. Humans are born with pre-programmed instincts and learning traits. We have inborn comprehension of danger, joy, and anger. As we mature, we learn to interpret our world and develop skills from mentors and our own experience. Some are gifted with a biological predisposition for sports or art. Even for the naturally gifted, it is rare for these future masters to achieve greatness before devoting years of practice and experience to their skill.
For the hyper-talented prodigies like Mozart and Tiger Woods, it is as if their brains were pre-programmed with these critical experiences. They seem to be able to retrieve and unlock the secrets necessary to master their discipline from birth. Are these savants the product of reincarnation of past masters?
Was Dylan a poet, musician, and author in a previous life? Dylan’s mastery and recall of complex literary works is astonishing. Levels of comprehension of texts that take most scholars years to digest, Dylan captures in days. He was able to pick up complex musical techniques in weeks, which others struggle to master after years of practice.
The “sold his soul to the devil” theory.
Unlike Mozart and Tiger Woods, Dylan was not considered uniquely talented as a toddler. There is little in his history of friends and family expecting greatness from Robert Zimmerman. His friends in Minneapolis had no idea that this Woody Gutherie-singing folk singer would soon be the most respected rock musician in the world. A hometown friend of Dylan reflected on seeing Bob a few months after he left Minneapolis for New York City. He was blown away at Dylan’s musical progression in the months since he had last seen him. Dylan mischievously attributes his sudden musical prowess to his deal with the devil. Late bloomer or recruited servant of Satan?
The timeless spirit
Biologically and artistically, Dylan is aging. That is if we follow the linear time-line of his life. Does Bob Dylan age in sequence, or as with “Chronicles”, can the man jump back and forth between different timelines of his life?
Can Dylan channel his inner-time machine and take his knowledge and experience as a wizened old man and bring that experience to his 21-year old freewheeling period?
Mere mortal theory
Perhaps Dylan is no less human than me and you. Just a hard-working man who is prolific, acutely insightful, well-read, musically-skilled, and constantly reinventing.
When looking at Dylan’s body of work and history, the mere mortal theory seems as implausible as the more fantastical guesses.
Dylan is an enigma. Many geniuses are. We may never unravel the how of his genius, but we can appreciate and marvel at the what.
