Turquoise, thanks for your comments. I agree about Highway 61 Revisited, although I can't remember all that was on it. Those songs were life-changers. Nothing much else got through to me in those long-gone days. Part 2 of the documentary is just as good as the first part, so get the DVD as soon as you can! In part 2 there are some clips of Dylan "speaking" to the press on various occasions. Of course, he didn't really speak at all. He didn't know what the questions were about. He couldn't talk about his own work. It struck me that when he was singing, composing and performing, he was a force of nature, unstoppable. The daemon had alighted on him, and he was in another place altogether. He'd received The Gift. But when the performance was over, the Gift departed and would not translate itself into any other form. So Dylan was left inarticulate, ordinary, not interesting at all. But that music!
--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, TurquoiseB <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "feste37" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > Did anyone see Martin Scorsese's documentary on Dylan last night? > > It was brilliant, absolutely riveting. Some clips of Dylan > > performing I had never seen before. Such driving intensity and > > authenticity. It made me realize in quite a new way just how > > brilliant the guy was. I had completely forgotten "A Hard > > Rain's Gonna Fall," which I used to listen to on my little record > > player over and over and over in, what, 1965 or 1966. Hearing it > > again after all these years was a revelation, and Allen Ginsberg > > made some excellent points about the poetic quality of the lyrics. > > I hadn't heard "Desolation Row" either for about 40 years. It > > brought back things I had forgotten about my own adolescence. > > Amazing what a song can do. > > Yes, it is. They are the soundtracks to the movies > of our lives. > > > Part two is next week, I think. Don't miss it. > > I have to wait until the DVD is available here in France, > but I doubt it will be long. They're into Dylan here, > because they are into words. But was/is arguably the > most important poet of the twentieth century. The only > person I can think of whose poetry possibly rocked as many > people's lives (in the sense of radically shifting their > states of attention) is Bob Marley. > > Some people don't consider them poets because they don't > publish in the New Yorker. Some people can go suck eggs. > There has never been another poet in the world of popular > music (which, after all, affects the lives of more people > than all the published "real" poets combined) who can > hold a candle to him. The man is a meteor who refuses > to flame out. He burns as brightly from time to time in > his 60s as he did in his 20s. > > You mentioned Desolation Row. The other day, when Jason > posted the article about Rolling Stone's picks for the > Top Ten albums ever made, I reacted to it by diving for > the two Dylan albums on the list. I finished that drive > down Memory Row with Desolation Row. It's amazing, even > now. At the time it released, it was nothing less than > devastating. I remember listening to it the first time. > It was the last cut on Highway 61 Revisited. The whole > album was a revelation, every song taking me to places > I had never dreamed of before, but Desolation Row! It > was an epiphany, in every sense of the word. It changed > my life forever. I was never the same person after hear- > ing the first time. I sat there, shocked, the needle > stuck in the last groove of the record, me unable to get > up and put it back in its cradle. > > I remember thinking, "I didn't know it was possible to > write like that." Fortunately, I have had that same > experience with many other writers in the years since, > but Bob was the first person to make me feel that way. > Bless him. > > They're selling postcards of the hanging > They're painting the passports brown > The beauty parlor is filled with sailors > The circus is in town > Here comes the blind commissioner > They've got him in a trance > One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker > The other is in his pants > And the riot squad they're restless > They need somewhere to go > As Lady and I look out tonight > From Desolation Row > > Cinderella, she seems so easy > "It takes one to know one," she smiles > And puts her hands in her back pockets > Bette Davis style > And in comes Romeo, he's moaning > "You Belong to Me I Believe" > And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend > You better leave" > And the only sound that's left > After the ambulances go > Is Cinderella sweeping up > On Desolation Row > > Now the moon is almost hidden > The stars are beginning to hide > The fortunetelling lady > Has even taken all her things inside > All except for Cain and Abel > And the hunchback of Notre Dame > Everybody is making love > Or else expecting rain > And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing > He's getting ready for the show > He's going to the carnival tonight > On Desolation Row > > Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window > For her I feel so afraid > On her twenty-second birthday > She already is an old maid > To her, death is quite romantic > She wears an iron vest > Her profession's her religion > Her sin is her lifelessness > And though her eyes are fixed upon > Noah's great rainbow > She spends her time peeking > Into Desolation Row > > Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood > With his memories in a trunk > Passed this way an hour ago > With his friend, a jealous monk > He looked so immaculately frightful > As he bummed a cigarette > Then he went off sniffing drainpipes > And reciting the alphabet > Now you would not think to look at him > But he was famous long ago > For playing the electric violin > On Desolation Row > > Dr. Filth, he keeps his world > Inside of a leather cup > But all his sexless patients > They're trying to blow it up > Now his nurse, some local loser > She's in charge of the cyanide hole > And she also keeps the cards that read > "Have Mercy on His Soul" > They all play on penny whistles > You can hear them blow > If you lean your head out far enough > From Desolation Row > > Across the street they've nailed the curtains > They're getting ready for the feast > The Phantom of the Opera > A perfect image of a priest > They're spoonfeeding Casanova > To get him to feel more assured > Then they'll kill him with self-confidence > After poisoning him with words > And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls > "Get Outa Here If You Don't Know > Casanova is just being punished for going > To Desolation Row" > > Now at midnight all the agents > And the superhuman crew > Come out and round up everyone > That knows more than they do > Then they bring them to the factory > Where the heart-attack machine > Is strapped across their shoulders > And then the kerosene > Is brought down from the castles > By insurance men who go > Check to see that nobody is escaping > To Desolation Row > > Praise be to Nero's Neptune > The Titanic sails at dawn > And everybody's shouting > "Which Side Are You On?" > And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot > Fighting in the captain's tower > While calypso singers laugh at them > And fishermen hold flowers > Between the windows of the sea > Where lovely mermaids flow > And nobody has to think too much > About Desolation Row > > Yes, I received your letter yesterday > (About the time the door knob broke) > When you asked how I was doing > Was that some kind of joke? > All these people that you mention > Yes, I know them, they're quite lame > I had to rearrange their faces > And give them all another name > Right now I can't read too good > Don't send me no more letters no > Not unless you mail them > From Desolation Row ------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor --------------------~--> Get fast access to your favorite Yahoo! Groups. 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