(Personal reflections
inspired by Bob Dylan songs)
Song: “It’s All Over
Now Baby Blue”
Album: Bringing It All Back Home
Release Date: March 1965
We all must face change at one point or
another. Its unavoidable. I’ve been blessed in not having had to deal
with truly traumatic change…. being sent off to war or other calamitous events that
I’ve witnessed others having had to contend with in their lives. But everything is relative with life-changing
moments, particularly when you are experiencing upheaval for the first
time. Such was the case for me when I
struck off for college on a late summer day in 1980, just a week past my 18th
birthday. A lot has transpired since
those bygone youthful days on many levels, in relation to family, faith,
career, travel and so much more. In
fact, I am so far removed from that innocent young man who struck off along the
Mohawk Trail in my Lincoln Mercury Capri to the city of North Adams in the northwestern
corner of Massachusetts - suitcase, record player and dart board in a heap in the
backseat - that it is difficult to relate to or even remember. But for the sake of this entry, I’ll try to stand
in those flannel shirts and corduroy pants once again.
I wish I had connected with “It’s All Over
Now Baby Blue” way back when. It would
have been a much-needed mental bonding. Neil
Young comes close with “Powderfinger” but that song is a bit too
fatalistic. Bob Dylan’s song hits closer
to home, with lyrics that can be interpreted along the lines of ‘sure you may feel like a vagabond now, but
it’s about time you grow up, boy. Time
to sink or swim. And oh, by the way, you
can’t swim back this way to the familiar, closer, sunny, beachy side of the
lake. No, you’re going to have to head
to the far side, over yonder where thickets cover the ground, and where the mud
runs deep. Do you see the dark forest that looms beyond? Do you see there’s light at the far edge of
that forest? Yeah, well it will be up to
you to figure out how to get there.’
“Strike
another match, go start anew
And
it’s all over now Baby Blue”
Franklin, Massachusetts was one helluva
place to grow up in the 70s, a rural community at the time, about an hour west
of Boston. I’m the oldest in a very
tight family, which includes my parents and five siblings. Laughter dominated our dinner’s together in
my formative years. On top of this we lived
within a 2-block distance from the heart of the very eclectic (for a teenager)
downtown. My best friends were in the same neighborhood too. They were also eclectic. I grew up with those friends from sandbox
days, through pickup baseball, street hockey, croquet and water balloon fights to
high school and nightlife (we still hangout). Train tracks were just down the hill from
home. Those tracks took us in the
opposite direction of civilization, where in our younger teenage years, trails
were explored, and fish were caught.
Later, bonfires were added to the mix; too difficult for the police to venture
to, never mind detect. I had my tried
and true dog, Nicky as my sidekick. I
had “Stand by Me”. I had “All You Need
Is Love”. I had “Night
Moves”. It was all so idyllic for that lanky,
shaggy-blonde-haired 17-year-old. Maybe
too idyllic.
The night I packed my bags for departure I
was the only one home; my parents and most of my younger siblings at a
campground about two thirds of the way to my new digs, where I would meet up with them, brother Fred riding shotgun. I remember
hurling my bags down the stairs to my awaiting car that evening; an expression
of the disruption I was feeling inside.
It’s funny thinking about it now.
I mean, this was a long 38 years ago, but it seems as if it were even
longer. That was my rite of passage
moment, something you can only go through once. I had no idea what I was bound
for, but at the same time, I knew who I was, maybe even better than I do
today.
But it was not only what I was leaving
behind that I was lamenting, it was what I was preparing for. Deep inside I knew I was facing manhood, and
I was planning to do it full steam ahead, taking this college thing seriously. I recall being honed into my studies. I recall much letter writing to special
someone’s. I recall deep conversations
with my landlady, who had taken back in her estranged, dying ex-husband, which played
out not long after I had moved in (he would pass on that next semester). I
recall struggling to connect with my fellow student housemates, one of whom was
bitter, having just recently lost his Dad to a car accident, a second who was
hopelessly full of himself like no one I have ever met before or since, a third
who was at least 5 years older than the rest of us, and quite off the wall, and
a fourth who was a thief and a dropout (he would be joining the army by
December). I also recall nighttime
reflections and daytime journeys into the surrounding Berkshires. And I strongly recall the heaviness of John
Lennon’s death; blowing off classes the next day to listen to his music in my
car with my headlights on, in radio-station WBCN solidarity with other drivers
who were also mourning the loss: “Watching the Wheels”, man… watching the
wheels. Finally, I recall on-campus
Masses on Sunday evenings, another form of solidarity…. taking Faith matters into
my own hands.
“Look
out the saints are comin’ through
And
it’s all over now, Baby Blue”
Yes, that 3-hour drive west may as well
have been 300 hours in terms of how far removed I felt from my Franklin
“Strawberry Fields” upbringing. Sure, I
had fun in my new haunts, particularly when I was introduced by one of my
flunky roommates to a motley crew-of-seven, about midway through that first
semester. These guys were collectively dubbed
“TH#1” by fellow students; named after their on-campus townhouse address. TH#1 welcomed me into the fold, even as I resisted
pressure to move in. Billiards, darts
and hot peppers were at the core of our mutual interests. But their brand of fun was different from
what I’d known to date. Hysterical
moments were a common denominator to the past, as was a need to keep on your
toes. The similarities stopped there however.
This was a more experienced, less innocent kind of fun than what I was familiar
with. There was also a brand-new angle for me of one-upmanship. And it was more edgy. And a bit wearier. And it could often be cynical. Strangely enough though, I found myself
needing this environment (side note: only one of the seven, Kurt, would end up
being a lifelong friend).
About midway through that Freshman winter,
I parked my car in a dark parking lot and strolled over the tracks to a local
bar with several of the TH#1ers to play pool.
Not smart. When I got back the rear
window to my vehicle had been smashed in, and a fantastic pair of homemade
speakers had been torn out of their back-of-car enclosures. In my haste to report it to police I drove
over a high curb and bottomed out, ripping away my exhaust system in the process
(I’m laughing to myself right now in recollection). When I got to the station the cop I appealed
to didn’t do much more than look into my eyes to see if I’d been drinking. I felt as if I were starring in my own twisted
comedy (or maybe “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream”).
Alas, there would be no help for me that
evening from anyone, including my high school sweetheart, who got a kick out of
the whole story when I called her; she going as far as giving me the temporary nickname
Mario Andretti (ok, this is also very funny in hindsight). We were in the death throes of our
relationship anyhow, going from the Styx “Babe” to The Left Banke’s “Walk Away
Renee” in 3 agonizing months (coincidentally, just last week I watched this second
song performed by Southside Johnny with my wife of 27 years – who I met not
long after college). As for the Lincoln
Mercury Capri, it was in a junk yard not soon after. In the relative blink of an eye, I’d lost my
freedom of the road and - for the time being - my free spirit.
“This
sky too is folding under you
And
it’s all over now Baby Blue”
Although I do not look back on that year
with fondness, it all turned out fine in the end. In fact, I would not trade the whole ball of
wax of my life with anyone’s. Most importantly
in regards to that transition year is that it has allowed me to relate to
others who have had periods of toil and trouble. When I recently saw a niece dealing with
first-year-away-from-home growing pangs, I was able to give her heartfelt advice,
in a nutshell telling her that the tough times are as important to your growth
- perhaps even more so - as the good times.
And they make you appreciate those good times in far greater ways than you
would otherwise be able to do. And finally,
I told her, if you deal with the tough times properly, they make you
stronger. The flip side of that is, beware
compromising your integrity when you are at your most vulnerable to do so. Bob Dylan makes the case with “It’s All Over
Now Baby Blue”
Van Morrison has covered “It’s All Over Now
Baby Blue” brilliantly in his live acts.
I put two and two together this week, recalling that Morrison’s
break-away-from-the-familiar period was when he left his Irish home and band to
start all over in of all places, Boston in the late 60s. Fellow Bostonian Peter Wolf’s writeup about Van
the Man in Rolling Stone Magazine’s 2010 “100 Greatest Artists” said it all. Morrison was flat broke, living in a “bleak and barren” apartment in Cambridge
with his wife and child. But he slowly reinvented himself, eventually landing
some small gigs. Wolf turned out to be one of the very few witnesses to the
origins of what would soon become the masterpiece, Astral Weeks, in a “subterranean”
coffee house bar. It’s an amazing story which
you can track down on line (Google “Peter Wolf about Van Morrison Rolling Stone
Magazine”). I’d always felt a sense of
connection with that story and with Van Morrison’s cover of Baby Blue. Now I know why.
“The
carpet too is moving under you
And
it’s all over now Baby Blue”
Bob Dylan’s original version is darn
special too. The closest thing I could
come up with is this early live recording: ( https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3kro54
). I love the sparse arrangement on the studio
version, which only includes Dylan’s acoustic guitar and harmonica along with a
cool bit of bass-beat-background courtesy of William E Lee. “It’s All Over Now Baby Blue” is a song that I’m
thinking even Dylan, despite his extraordinary and lasting talents, would
likely struggle to write at this stage in his life. You need to be close to the orphan fire if
you know what I mean. Verse upon verse,
Bob Dylan pulls no punches in this profoundly insightful ode to forced change
and new beginnings.
As for that young man I left behind on my
first drive up the Mohawk Trail, well, I know he’s close by. Every so often I see him in the mirror, mostly
nodding his head in agreement, but also on occasion shaking his head in
disgust. I also see the vagabond who
struck off along the Mohawk Trail all those years ago. But most often I don’t see much beyond the
end result. I can live with that. As I see it, if you can live with who you have
become then you are still tapping into that young, innocent version of self….
whether you see him or not. If there’s ever
a sequel to “It’s All Over Now Baby Blue”, this notion could very well be at
its core.
- Pete
Thursday, August 30, 2018
Thursday, August 23, 2018
Master Blueprints # 32: “There Must Be Some Kind of Way Outta Here Said the Joker to the Thief”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Bob Dylan songs)
Song: “All Along the Watchtower"
Album: John Wesley Harding
Release Date: December 1967
Before I started this series, I contemplated any number of names for it including; “Dylanalogy” (I later found out that one was already taken as some who read this may notice), “Drillin Deep with Dylan” and Bobbing for Apples (ok that last one was a stretch). I finally settled on Master Blueprints, the reason being that one of the most fascinating and underrated aspects to Bob Dylan’s music is how he balances the quality of his own original-release version of any given composition with the flexibility for other talented musicians - who have the proper insight – to make the song their own. Most musicians try to perfect their sound in the studio. Often, as has been the case with The Who and Van Morrison, the original version of much of their music has proven to be virtually unconquerable (although in both The Who’s case and Van Morrison’s, the unconquerable nature was kinda unavoidable: With the Who this was primarily due to the mind blowing drumming of Keith Moon and stupefying bass playing of John Entwistle; and in Van Morrison’s case it was due to the perfection of his melodic vocal delivery). Not so Bob Dylan: He’s generously left plenty of elbowroom for others to customize his great works.
Bob Dylan’s approach to making music has turned out to be a bold stroke of genius because it’s become apparent (to me anyway) that the return on restraining from perfection and/or overproduction has been tremendously rewarding. I mean, to my knowledge, the guy gets covered more than anyone. And whenever I hear a Bob Dylan song performed at a show, be it a big stadium event of a major act or a quaint setting in a pub - singer alone with his/her guitar - invariably I love it. What’s going on here? I don’t get this consistency of joy with covers of other musicians. Again, it has much to do with that wiggle room, as well as those other musicians who are covering Bob Dylan knowing when one of his songs fits with their own talents, abilities, and passions. This all contributes to why Dylan will stand the test of time.
I’d like to flesh this blueprint-effect out more but first, let me back up bit. What are some of your favorite cover song in general? Ten of the great ones that come to mind for me (not necessarily in the order given) are 1) Gram Parsons cover of the Boudleaux Bryant song “Love Hurts” (with Emmylou Harris), 2) the Rolling Stones cover of The Temptations “Just My Imagination”, 3) the Who covering Mose Allison “Young Man Blues” (off of Live At Leeds), 4) Bruce Springsteen cover of Jimmy Cliff’s “Trapped” (also live), 5) Green Day’s version of John Lennon’s “Working Class Hero”, 6) The Grateful Dead nod to Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away” (live), 7) Janis Joplin’s cover of Kris Kristofferson’s “Me and Bobby McGee”, 8) Rage Against the Machine’s intense interpretation of Bruce Springsteen’s “Ghost of Tom Joad”, 9) Steve Goodman’s “City of New Orleans, covered by Arlo Guthrie and 10) Elvis Costello covering Nick Lowe’s “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding”. Each of these has a personal touch. Each was an expansion of musicality on the original version.
Now let’s do the same thing with 10 of my favorite Bob Dylan covers (again, not necessarily in the order given): 1) The Byrds cover of “Mr. Tambourine Man”, 2) Joan Baez interpretation of “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands” and “Love is Just a Four Letter Word” (heck, the entirety of her ode-to-Dylan double-LP, Any Day Now, for that matter), 3) Both Sinead O’Connor and Allison Krause performances of “I Believe In You” (both live), 4) Van Morrison covering “It’s All Over Now Baby Blue”, 5) Ronnie Wood’s take on “Seven Days”, 6) Richie Haven’s “Just Like a Woman”, 7) Manfred Mann’s interpretation of “Quinn the Eskimo”, 8) Lou Reed’s live cover of “Foot of Pride”, 9) The Band covering “Blind Willie McTell” and of course 10) Jimi Hendrix masterful take on “All Along the Watchtower”. With every one of these songs, Bob Dylan left the interpreter with the power to add broad strokes. That’s what blueprints are supposed to do: Allow for broad strokes.
Jimi Hendrix version of “All Along the Watchtower” may be the best cover of all time. It exemplifies the notion of just how far you can take a Bob Dylan blueprint. The original and the cover act as a one-two punch, Dylan laying down the powerful lyrics and Hendrix the visionary insight into the meaning as well as his extraordinary guitar. Both musicians sing the song in ominous tones, which is fitting for at least one possible meaning (I’ll get to that) as well as for the chaotic late-60s period when the song came to be (Dylan’s version in December of ’67 and Hendrix six months later). The only song I can compare to “All Along the Watchtower” is the Rolling Stones “Gimme Shelter”, which was released just as that all-encompassing 60’s decade was coming to an end. “Gimme Shelter” is also dire and captures the essence of the times in equal fashion.
“All Along the Watchtower” is one of those Dylan songs that is oh, so enjoyable to decipher meaning from. In the lyrics, Bob Dylan lays before the listener a brilliant symbolic medieval setting ( https://vimeo.com/195698477 ) . There are 2 riders; the ‘joker’ (presumably Dylan himself) and the ‘thief’ (side note: It is a wee bit nebulous that the joker and the thief are indeed the riders if you read the lyrics, but there can be no other logical conclusion). There are watchtowers inhabited by princes. There is a sense of urgency. There is a sense of confusion and dread, with howling winds enveloping and a wildcat looming. There is a sense of determination; something that must be done.
There’s also a sense of betrayal, which is not as readily evident as those other subjects; the thief being the betrayer, the joker seemingly blind to this in the present context of the song’s lyrics (befitting his name ‘joker’, a theme on Dylan that Don McClean would run with 4 years later in his song “American Pie”). The very fact that Bob Dylan names the betrayer as ‘thief’ should be enough to paint the character in a negative light, but it became more apparent to me as I rewound and replayed this week that Dylan wanted the listener to feel as confused about pending betrayal as he did when he wrote the song, which he does cleverly through the thief’s smooth-talking ways in the entirety of the 2nd stanza.
In fact, Bob Dylan’s approach to the lyrics is almost too clever, floating this betrayal point a bit over the head of much of his audience. But this is where Jimi Hendrix helps clarify things. He does it by adding a hesitancy in the thief line “but, you and I we’ve been through that and this is not our fate" with “but, uh, but you and I….”. As be the case with Dylan, the Hendrix touch on this song – be it in his guitar work or in his vocals - is clever, subtle, …and brilliant. The hesitancy and stumbling in the thief’s (Hendrix) delivery is a sign of double talk. One of my best friends is a policeman. He once told me thieves are always the easiest criminals to track down. They almost always leave clues he said because many have become wayward and in turn error prone. My cop buddy appears to have a mutual understanding of this conclusion with Mr. Hendrix.
The highlight of the Jimi Hendrix cover ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLV4_xaYynY ) is the extended guitar interlude before the 3rd and final stanza (a must listen on headphones). That guitar is talking folks, in a way that mesmerizes every time I listen. I wonder how Bob Dylan must have reacted the first time he heard it? I’m sure he was both floored and honored. I equate the Dylan/Hendrix one-two combo to an architect laying out his blue print for a Taj Mahal-like structure, and then coming back a decade later to see the fruits of his vision. Hendrix fleshes out the eerie setting that is “All Along the Watchtower” to maximum effect. As the guitar wails, we soar above the scene, just below the dark clouds, to see the watchtower, the riders, and the deep forest. We swoop down to catch a glimpse of that wild cat and feel the effect of those howling winds.
When I would casually listen to this song years ago, I assumed the princes in the watchtower were contributing to the joker’s confusion and weariness. But these are after all princes, not soldiers, mercenaries, or henchmen. And they are keeping a view, not a lookout. Is the thief separating them from the joker intentionally? Did this start out as mental manipulation and is now playing out in physical distancing? Related: The lyrics leave up for debate whether the 2 riders are heading toward the castle, or in the opposite direction toward the wilderness and the wildcat. The closing stanza reads:
“All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the woman came and went
Barefoot servants too
Outside in the cold distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl”
Seeing as the lyrics to the song begin “there must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief”, you are left wondering in which direction they are heading. Are they gearing up for a confrontation or are they fleeing?
Finally, why the title “All Along the Watchtower”, instead of other lyric-lines from the song, say “The Joker and the Thief”? There’s clearly a special emphasis made on the watchtower because of that title. Ok, well…watchtowers are affiliated with fortresses. Many authors have written that Bob Dylan dropped out of the scene after retreating to Woodstock in ’67. I believe the title of this song proves otherwise. The princes may or may not be contributing to the joker’s anxieties, but the fortress, and others who inhabit it could indeed be. I’m thinking that the fortress is likely symbolic of the big, dark events of the day as well as the forces driving them: Vietnam, segregation, poverty, the military-industrial complex, and not long after the song’s release, two more assassinations (Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy). Yes, the riders in the song may very well be trying to escape it all; but note that the growling wildcat has the feel of being symbolic of the unknown beyond the castle walls. And so there really is no escaping. In this way, Bob Dylan may be telling us that he really has no choice but to confront what’s troubling him and us. I’m sure Dylan was tuned in to the world around him at the time despite his physical isolation. He may even have been declaring here that he was in it for the long haul (which other songs on John Wesley Harding seem to indicate). Jimi Hendrix may have realized this from the start and it appears he was in turn hugely inspired by it.
Cover songs can be the greatest of interpretations if done right. For my money, there’s no one who did it better than Hendrix with his version of “All Along the Watchtower”. And lest never forget it was Bob Dylan’s master-blueprint-approach to songwriting that allowed that to happen.
- Pete
Song: “All Along the Watchtower"
Album: John Wesley Harding
Release Date: December 1967
Before I started this series, I contemplated any number of names for it including; “Dylanalogy” (I later found out that one was already taken as some who read this may notice), “Drillin Deep with Dylan” and Bobbing for Apples (ok that last one was a stretch). I finally settled on Master Blueprints, the reason being that one of the most fascinating and underrated aspects to Bob Dylan’s music is how he balances the quality of his own original-release version of any given composition with the flexibility for other talented musicians - who have the proper insight – to make the song their own. Most musicians try to perfect their sound in the studio. Often, as has been the case with The Who and Van Morrison, the original version of much of their music has proven to be virtually unconquerable (although in both The Who’s case and Van Morrison’s, the unconquerable nature was kinda unavoidable: With the Who this was primarily due to the mind blowing drumming of Keith Moon and stupefying bass playing of John Entwistle; and in Van Morrison’s case it was due to the perfection of his melodic vocal delivery). Not so Bob Dylan: He’s generously left plenty of elbowroom for others to customize his great works.
Bob Dylan’s approach to making music has turned out to be a bold stroke of genius because it’s become apparent (to me anyway) that the return on restraining from perfection and/or overproduction has been tremendously rewarding. I mean, to my knowledge, the guy gets covered more than anyone. And whenever I hear a Bob Dylan song performed at a show, be it a big stadium event of a major act or a quaint setting in a pub - singer alone with his/her guitar - invariably I love it. What’s going on here? I don’t get this consistency of joy with covers of other musicians. Again, it has much to do with that wiggle room, as well as those other musicians who are covering Bob Dylan knowing when one of his songs fits with their own talents, abilities, and passions. This all contributes to why Dylan will stand the test of time.
I’d like to flesh this blueprint-effect out more but first, let me back up bit. What are some of your favorite cover song in general? Ten of the great ones that come to mind for me (not necessarily in the order given) are 1) Gram Parsons cover of the Boudleaux Bryant song “Love Hurts” (with Emmylou Harris), 2) the Rolling Stones cover of The Temptations “Just My Imagination”, 3) the Who covering Mose Allison “Young Man Blues” (off of Live At Leeds), 4) Bruce Springsteen cover of Jimmy Cliff’s “Trapped” (also live), 5) Green Day’s version of John Lennon’s “Working Class Hero”, 6) The Grateful Dead nod to Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away” (live), 7) Janis Joplin’s cover of Kris Kristofferson’s “Me and Bobby McGee”, 8) Rage Against the Machine’s intense interpretation of Bruce Springsteen’s “Ghost of Tom Joad”, 9) Steve Goodman’s “City of New Orleans, covered by Arlo Guthrie and 10) Elvis Costello covering Nick Lowe’s “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding”. Each of these has a personal touch. Each was an expansion of musicality on the original version.
Now let’s do the same thing with 10 of my favorite Bob Dylan covers (again, not necessarily in the order given): 1) The Byrds cover of “Mr. Tambourine Man”, 2) Joan Baez interpretation of “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands” and “Love is Just a Four Letter Word” (heck, the entirety of her ode-to-Dylan double-LP, Any Day Now, for that matter), 3) Both Sinead O’Connor and Allison Krause performances of “I Believe In You” (both live), 4) Van Morrison covering “It’s All Over Now Baby Blue”, 5) Ronnie Wood’s take on “Seven Days”, 6) Richie Haven’s “Just Like a Woman”, 7) Manfred Mann’s interpretation of “Quinn the Eskimo”, 8) Lou Reed’s live cover of “Foot of Pride”, 9) The Band covering “Blind Willie McTell” and of course 10) Jimi Hendrix masterful take on “All Along the Watchtower”. With every one of these songs, Bob Dylan left the interpreter with the power to add broad strokes. That’s what blueprints are supposed to do: Allow for broad strokes.
Jimi Hendrix version of “All Along the Watchtower” may be the best cover of all time. It exemplifies the notion of just how far you can take a Bob Dylan blueprint. The original and the cover act as a one-two punch, Dylan laying down the powerful lyrics and Hendrix the visionary insight into the meaning as well as his extraordinary guitar. Both musicians sing the song in ominous tones, which is fitting for at least one possible meaning (I’ll get to that) as well as for the chaotic late-60s period when the song came to be (Dylan’s version in December of ’67 and Hendrix six months later). The only song I can compare to “All Along the Watchtower” is the Rolling Stones “Gimme Shelter”, which was released just as that all-encompassing 60’s decade was coming to an end. “Gimme Shelter” is also dire and captures the essence of the times in equal fashion.
“All Along the Watchtower” is one of those Dylan songs that is oh, so enjoyable to decipher meaning from. In the lyrics, Bob Dylan lays before the listener a brilliant symbolic medieval setting ( https://vimeo.com/195698477 ) . There are 2 riders; the ‘joker’ (presumably Dylan himself) and the ‘thief’ (side note: It is a wee bit nebulous that the joker and the thief are indeed the riders if you read the lyrics, but there can be no other logical conclusion). There are watchtowers inhabited by princes. There is a sense of urgency. There is a sense of confusion and dread, with howling winds enveloping and a wildcat looming. There is a sense of determination; something that must be done.
There’s also a sense of betrayal, which is not as readily evident as those other subjects; the thief being the betrayer, the joker seemingly blind to this in the present context of the song’s lyrics (befitting his name ‘joker’, a theme on Dylan that Don McClean would run with 4 years later in his song “American Pie”). The very fact that Bob Dylan names the betrayer as ‘thief’ should be enough to paint the character in a negative light, but it became more apparent to me as I rewound and replayed this week that Dylan wanted the listener to feel as confused about pending betrayal as he did when he wrote the song, which he does cleverly through the thief’s smooth-talking ways in the entirety of the 2nd stanza.
In fact, Bob Dylan’s approach to the lyrics is almost too clever, floating this betrayal point a bit over the head of much of his audience. But this is where Jimi Hendrix helps clarify things. He does it by adding a hesitancy in the thief line “but, you and I we’ve been through that and this is not our fate" with “but, uh, but you and I….”. As be the case with Dylan, the Hendrix touch on this song – be it in his guitar work or in his vocals - is clever, subtle, …and brilliant. The hesitancy and stumbling in the thief’s (Hendrix) delivery is a sign of double talk. One of my best friends is a policeman. He once told me thieves are always the easiest criminals to track down. They almost always leave clues he said because many have become wayward and in turn error prone. My cop buddy appears to have a mutual understanding of this conclusion with Mr. Hendrix.
The highlight of the Jimi Hendrix cover ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLV4_xaYynY ) is the extended guitar interlude before the 3rd and final stanza (a must listen on headphones). That guitar is talking folks, in a way that mesmerizes every time I listen. I wonder how Bob Dylan must have reacted the first time he heard it? I’m sure he was both floored and honored. I equate the Dylan/Hendrix one-two combo to an architect laying out his blue print for a Taj Mahal-like structure, and then coming back a decade later to see the fruits of his vision. Hendrix fleshes out the eerie setting that is “All Along the Watchtower” to maximum effect. As the guitar wails, we soar above the scene, just below the dark clouds, to see the watchtower, the riders, and the deep forest. We swoop down to catch a glimpse of that wild cat and feel the effect of those howling winds.
When I would casually listen to this song years ago, I assumed the princes in the watchtower were contributing to the joker’s confusion and weariness. But these are after all princes, not soldiers, mercenaries, or henchmen. And they are keeping a view, not a lookout. Is the thief separating them from the joker intentionally? Did this start out as mental manipulation and is now playing out in physical distancing? Related: The lyrics leave up for debate whether the 2 riders are heading toward the castle, or in the opposite direction toward the wilderness and the wildcat. The closing stanza reads:
“All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the woman came and went
Barefoot servants too
Outside in the cold distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl”
Seeing as the lyrics to the song begin “there must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief”, you are left wondering in which direction they are heading. Are they gearing up for a confrontation or are they fleeing?
Finally, why the title “All Along the Watchtower”, instead of other lyric-lines from the song, say “The Joker and the Thief”? There’s clearly a special emphasis made on the watchtower because of that title. Ok, well…watchtowers are affiliated with fortresses. Many authors have written that Bob Dylan dropped out of the scene after retreating to Woodstock in ’67. I believe the title of this song proves otherwise. The princes may or may not be contributing to the joker’s anxieties, but the fortress, and others who inhabit it could indeed be. I’m thinking that the fortress is likely symbolic of the big, dark events of the day as well as the forces driving them: Vietnam, segregation, poverty, the military-industrial complex, and not long after the song’s release, two more assassinations (Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy). Yes, the riders in the song may very well be trying to escape it all; but note that the growling wildcat has the feel of being symbolic of the unknown beyond the castle walls. And so there really is no escaping. In this way, Bob Dylan may be telling us that he really has no choice but to confront what’s troubling him and us. I’m sure Dylan was tuned in to the world around him at the time despite his physical isolation. He may even have been declaring here that he was in it for the long haul (which other songs on John Wesley Harding seem to indicate). Jimi Hendrix may have realized this from the start and it appears he was in turn hugely inspired by it.
Cover songs can be the greatest of interpretations if done right. For my money, there’s no one who did it better than Hendrix with his version of “All Along the Watchtower”. And lest never forget it was Bob Dylan’s master-blueprint-approach to songwriting that allowed that to happen.
- Pete
Monday, August 13, 2018
Master Blueprints # 31: “Some People They Tell Me, I’ve Got the Blood of the Land in My Voice”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Bob Dylan songs)
Song: “I Feel a Change Comin’ On”
Album: Together Through Life
Release Date: April 2009
In a pre-concert interview at the Bob Dylan 30th Anniversary Tribute Concert in 1992, Lou Reed confidently stated that he believed Dylan had not yet reached the summit of his creative capabilities. Flashing forward to today there has since been 1) eleven studio albums 2) a treasure trove of a Bootleg Series (13 and counting) 3) Theme Time Radio Hour 4) the “Never Ending Tour” 5) a page-turner memoir (Chronicles: Volume One) and 6) a masterful movie about the man (Martin Scorsese’s No Direction Home). At the core of it all was 4-straight studio-album gems: Time Out of Mind (1997), “Love and Theft” (2001), Modern Times (2006) and Together Through Life (2009). With all that output, one could say today that Sweet Lou’s words were truly prophetic. Here was a man - Bob Dylan - in his 50s, 60s, and beyond, cranking it out as good as he had at any period in his life: A rare treat for the rock music crowd….and darn motivational for those of us who still aspire to the creative accomplishments of our elder statesman as we approach this period in life ourselves.
The fourth-quarter installment of those 4 studio-album gems, Together Through Life, has, for me, required a patient ear. Upon its release, my early forays listening to it could be summed up in the words of a younger generation thusly; “meh” …. which is always the tricky moment with albums that have this initial effect on me. To take more cracks at it or not? Sometimes music requires repeated listening to hear the deep genuineness within (Neil Young’s Time Fades Away comes to mind). Other times it is just plain bad (Randy Newman’s Faust, unfortunately). I’ve learned over the years that there is a bit of a trick to figuring it out: Listen, and if you are ambivalent, put it down for a spell; be it a month, several months, even a year. Then give it another go; particularly if you hear good things from others who have your respect when it comes to music. If you are still not impressed after round 2, bag it.
Together Through Life benefited from what turned out to be a necessary third listening phase, compliments of how I have approached this blog series. As mentioned before, I did some prep work with Master Blueprints, spending all last year trying to fill in the gaps of my Bob Dylan discography. Listening Phase II for this album played out during that time, specifically on a work trip via automobile to and from Sherbrooke, Quebec. During that drive, pieces were beginning to gel for me, including the closing number “It’s All Good”, a return-to-form protest song for Bob Dylan, the title alone reflecting how some in the privileged upper class respond to the harsh realities of the world around them (one of my favorite moments in the song is a cynical exclamation “Whoo!” at the 4:10 mark, Dylan sounding extraordinarily like a much younger Blonde on Blonde version of himself). And then there was “My Wife’s Home Town”, Bob Dylan showing his great sense of humor there. All in all, this experience was helpful, and yet I needed further convincing.
Early this week, I recalled last year’s drive north as I queued up Together Through Life for Listening Phase III. The big reason that memory came back to me was that I coincidentally was heading back to Quebec, this time for fun. A colleague, Mike, who I had become friends with through my Canadian coordination efforts these past 10 years, had invited Nancy and I to spend a few days with he and his wife at their stunning country home in the Eastern Township hamlet of South Hatley, just south of Sherbrooke near the Vermont border (side note: South Hatley is where Secret Window was filmed, starring Johnny Depp). Mike also happens to be a fellow Bob Dylan enthusiast. One way we express our mutual admiration for Dylan is that we always close email exchanges with a lyric of his to reflect upon. These quotes are typically in reference to the work-related reason for the email exchange, seeing as there’s always something there in Dylan’s vast catalog to relate a topic to (but finding the right line usually requires a bit of forethought).
Anyhow, it was a wonderful visit, and a much-needed getaway. Mike and I kept work discussion to a bare-bones minimum (for the wives’ sake, but also for our own), but we did manage to fit in some discussion on our other favorite topic. This kept Bob Dylan on the brain, which was helpful for me as I continued to negotiate Together Through Life as the week rolled along. As hoped and anticipated, the pieces were beginning to fall into place nicely. The opening number, “Beyond Here Lies Nothin’” seeped in first, with its refreshing jaunty vibe. Soon enough I began hearing the accordion everywhere on the album to a degree I had not before. From there it was a domino effect. My ears quickly opened to “Jolene”, “If You Ever Go to Houston” and the deep thinker “Forgetful Heart”. Best of all, was “I Feel a Change Comin’ On” ( https://www.mojvideo.com/video-bob-dylan-i-feel-a-change-comin-on/3551124e5886d97189fc ), a song that found its way to the core of my consciousness, leading to it being chosen as this entries Blueprint cornerstone.
How did I not pick up on the addictive “I Feel a Change Comin’ On” before? It’s so strange how you can listen to a song without connecting, and then one day…. Boom! I pondered on this as the week progressed, and once again found my mind flashing back to that first Together Through Life Quebec drive last year. I concluded that the difference between then and now was in my ear for Bob Dylan’s vocals, not just in terms of this song, but the entire album. Now we all know Dylan’s vocals are an acquired taste. In fact, I hate to admit this, but for the life of me, I never could make the mental breakthrough with Bob Dylan’s post 1990 concerts despite having caught a handful of his shows in the last quarter century or so….and it all came down to his vocals. For others, including my wife, it’s much more than that; virtually his entire catalog is a struggle for her vocal wise (she does like “Hurricane”).
Post 1990 studio albums all took some additional level of effort on my part, Bob Dylan’s vocal delivery showing its age as the decades have rolled along. I always find myself lagging a bit behind getting my ears tuned correctly. For example, the positive tipping point for me for “Love and Theft” was about 10 years ago after a few years of ambivalence. From then on, I had the ear. Next up was Modern Times, which also took a while. I should have known this was the process I was going through with Together Through Life. It wasn’t the music, it was simply the vocals that needed patience to adjust to.
Bob Dylan actually addresses his vocals in “I Feel a Change Comin’ On” with the self-aware line “Some people they tell me, I’ve got the blood of the land in my voice”, which is one of my all-time favorite Dylan lyrics. Has he always felt this way though? It would make sense. Dylan adapted his vocal delivery very early in his career. You hear it from “The Times They Are a Changin’” on (with a few exceptions, including the entirety of Nashville Skyline). Bob Dylan has refused to be labeled to anything throughout his career (“I’m Not There”), but if someone were to pose to him that he has always sung with the blood of the land in his vocals and in his thoughts, I’m not sure he would disagree. His is a singing style of serious nature, and of all the musicians I love listening to, Dylan is the most consistently serious in just about everything he does in the public eye. There must be unspoken reasons for this. Reasons that require commitment to a promise made-to-self a long time ago, and never broken.
“I feel a change comin’ on” is a phrase that is repeated throughout the song, which of course gets your focus when it comes to trying to dissect the meaning. Unlike much of Bob Dylan’s music, there is nothing remotely credible on the web that diagnosis this song. This can be a good thing. It can get your wheels spinning independent of anyone else’s interpretation. My early thoughts were like others I had read: A Dylan effort at self-change. But the more I listened the more I felt this was way too easy. And so, I rewound and repeated, taking in the song in different atmospheres - morning, noon and night for example - to see if I could find the right aligning of the stars that would have me breaking on through to the other side…. and then finally, after about 4 days of this, I got there.
“I Feel a Change Comin’ On” is a song on par with Leonard Cohen’s “Democracy” in terms of meaning. It’s about change happening not so much from within Bob Dylan, but in the world around him (ditto Robert Hunter, Dylan’s cowriter for most of the songs on Together Through Life). Some of these changes are good, and some not so. At one extreme is hope. For example, the early line about his gal “walking with the village priest” indicates that she’s coming around in profound ways, trying to connect more with her spiritual soul. A later stanza reaffirms this awakening:
“Life is for love
And they say that love is blind
If you want to live easy
Baby pack your clothes with mine”
…. insinuating that with more openness to faith comes a deeper understanding of love. But there are other changes happening as well, which is summed up at the end of the song:
“Everybody got all the money
Everybody got all the beautiful clothes
Everybody got all the flowers
I don’t have one single rose”
It would defy character to think that Bob Dylan is wallowing in self-pity here. I believe what Dylan is really saying in these lines refer to how much of the world feels this way these days. It’s a big picture view.
All of this plays out with the refrain “and the fourth part of the day’s already gone”. In other words, just when you think there is no possibility for change, that’s when it happens. It's one reason Bob Dylan persists in his craft, despite deteriorating vocal chords. But one thing Dylan fans can rely on is artistic integrity, personified in many ways, including as a reflection of blood of the land. I'll take that over a perfect set of pipes lacking substance any day.
- Pete
Song: “I Feel a Change Comin’ On”
Album: Together Through Life
Release Date: April 2009
In a pre-concert interview at the Bob Dylan 30th Anniversary Tribute Concert in 1992, Lou Reed confidently stated that he believed Dylan had not yet reached the summit of his creative capabilities. Flashing forward to today there has since been 1) eleven studio albums 2) a treasure trove of a Bootleg Series (13 and counting) 3) Theme Time Radio Hour 4) the “Never Ending Tour” 5) a page-turner memoir (Chronicles: Volume One) and 6) a masterful movie about the man (Martin Scorsese’s No Direction Home). At the core of it all was 4-straight studio-album gems: Time Out of Mind (1997), “Love and Theft” (2001), Modern Times (2006) and Together Through Life (2009). With all that output, one could say today that Sweet Lou’s words were truly prophetic. Here was a man - Bob Dylan - in his 50s, 60s, and beyond, cranking it out as good as he had at any period in his life: A rare treat for the rock music crowd….and darn motivational for those of us who still aspire to the creative accomplishments of our elder statesman as we approach this period in life ourselves.
The fourth-quarter installment of those 4 studio-album gems, Together Through Life, has, for me, required a patient ear. Upon its release, my early forays listening to it could be summed up in the words of a younger generation thusly; “meh” …. which is always the tricky moment with albums that have this initial effect on me. To take more cracks at it or not? Sometimes music requires repeated listening to hear the deep genuineness within (Neil Young’s Time Fades Away comes to mind). Other times it is just plain bad (Randy Newman’s Faust, unfortunately). I’ve learned over the years that there is a bit of a trick to figuring it out: Listen, and if you are ambivalent, put it down for a spell; be it a month, several months, even a year. Then give it another go; particularly if you hear good things from others who have your respect when it comes to music. If you are still not impressed after round 2, bag it.
Together Through Life benefited from what turned out to be a necessary third listening phase, compliments of how I have approached this blog series. As mentioned before, I did some prep work with Master Blueprints, spending all last year trying to fill in the gaps of my Bob Dylan discography. Listening Phase II for this album played out during that time, specifically on a work trip via automobile to and from Sherbrooke, Quebec. During that drive, pieces were beginning to gel for me, including the closing number “It’s All Good”, a return-to-form protest song for Bob Dylan, the title alone reflecting how some in the privileged upper class respond to the harsh realities of the world around them (one of my favorite moments in the song is a cynical exclamation “Whoo!” at the 4:10 mark, Dylan sounding extraordinarily like a much younger Blonde on Blonde version of himself). And then there was “My Wife’s Home Town”, Bob Dylan showing his great sense of humor there. All in all, this experience was helpful, and yet I needed further convincing.
Early this week, I recalled last year’s drive north as I queued up Together Through Life for Listening Phase III. The big reason that memory came back to me was that I coincidentally was heading back to Quebec, this time for fun. A colleague, Mike, who I had become friends with through my Canadian coordination efforts these past 10 years, had invited Nancy and I to spend a few days with he and his wife at their stunning country home in the Eastern Township hamlet of South Hatley, just south of Sherbrooke near the Vermont border (side note: South Hatley is where Secret Window was filmed, starring Johnny Depp). Mike also happens to be a fellow Bob Dylan enthusiast. One way we express our mutual admiration for Dylan is that we always close email exchanges with a lyric of his to reflect upon. These quotes are typically in reference to the work-related reason for the email exchange, seeing as there’s always something there in Dylan’s vast catalog to relate a topic to (but finding the right line usually requires a bit of forethought).
Anyhow, it was a wonderful visit, and a much-needed getaway. Mike and I kept work discussion to a bare-bones minimum (for the wives’ sake, but also for our own), but we did manage to fit in some discussion on our other favorite topic. This kept Bob Dylan on the brain, which was helpful for me as I continued to negotiate Together Through Life as the week rolled along. As hoped and anticipated, the pieces were beginning to fall into place nicely. The opening number, “Beyond Here Lies Nothin’” seeped in first, with its refreshing jaunty vibe. Soon enough I began hearing the accordion everywhere on the album to a degree I had not before. From there it was a domino effect. My ears quickly opened to “Jolene”, “If You Ever Go to Houston” and the deep thinker “Forgetful Heart”. Best of all, was “I Feel a Change Comin’ On” ( https://www.mojvideo.com/video-bob-dylan-i-feel-a-change-comin-on/3551124e5886d97189fc ), a song that found its way to the core of my consciousness, leading to it being chosen as this entries Blueprint cornerstone.
How did I not pick up on the addictive “I Feel a Change Comin’ On” before? It’s so strange how you can listen to a song without connecting, and then one day…. Boom! I pondered on this as the week progressed, and once again found my mind flashing back to that first Together Through Life Quebec drive last year. I concluded that the difference between then and now was in my ear for Bob Dylan’s vocals, not just in terms of this song, but the entire album. Now we all know Dylan’s vocals are an acquired taste. In fact, I hate to admit this, but for the life of me, I never could make the mental breakthrough with Bob Dylan’s post 1990 concerts despite having caught a handful of his shows in the last quarter century or so….and it all came down to his vocals. For others, including my wife, it’s much more than that; virtually his entire catalog is a struggle for her vocal wise (she does like “Hurricane”).
Post 1990 studio albums all took some additional level of effort on my part, Bob Dylan’s vocal delivery showing its age as the decades have rolled along. I always find myself lagging a bit behind getting my ears tuned correctly. For example, the positive tipping point for me for “Love and Theft” was about 10 years ago after a few years of ambivalence. From then on, I had the ear. Next up was Modern Times, which also took a while. I should have known this was the process I was going through with Together Through Life. It wasn’t the music, it was simply the vocals that needed patience to adjust to.
Bob Dylan actually addresses his vocals in “I Feel a Change Comin’ On” with the self-aware line “Some people they tell me, I’ve got the blood of the land in my voice”, which is one of my all-time favorite Dylan lyrics. Has he always felt this way though? It would make sense. Dylan adapted his vocal delivery very early in his career. You hear it from “The Times They Are a Changin’” on (with a few exceptions, including the entirety of Nashville Skyline). Bob Dylan has refused to be labeled to anything throughout his career (“I’m Not There”), but if someone were to pose to him that he has always sung with the blood of the land in his vocals and in his thoughts, I’m not sure he would disagree. His is a singing style of serious nature, and of all the musicians I love listening to, Dylan is the most consistently serious in just about everything he does in the public eye. There must be unspoken reasons for this. Reasons that require commitment to a promise made-to-self a long time ago, and never broken.
“I feel a change comin’ on” is a phrase that is repeated throughout the song, which of course gets your focus when it comes to trying to dissect the meaning. Unlike much of Bob Dylan’s music, there is nothing remotely credible on the web that diagnosis this song. This can be a good thing. It can get your wheels spinning independent of anyone else’s interpretation. My early thoughts were like others I had read: A Dylan effort at self-change. But the more I listened the more I felt this was way too easy. And so, I rewound and repeated, taking in the song in different atmospheres - morning, noon and night for example - to see if I could find the right aligning of the stars that would have me breaking on through to the other side…. and then finally, after about 4 days of this, I got there.
“I Feel a Change Comin’ On” is a song on par with Leonard Cohen’s “Democracy” in terms of meaning. It’s about change happening not so much from within Bob Dylan, but in the world around him (ditto Robert Hunter, Dylan’s cowriter for most of the songs on Together Through Life). Some of these changes are good, and some not so. At one extreme is hope. For example, the early line about his gal “walking with the village priest” indicates that she’s coming around in profound ways, trying to connect more with her spiritual soul. A later stanza reaffirms this awakening:
“Life is for love
And they say that love is blind
If you want to live easy
Baby pack your clothes with mine”
…. insinuating that with more openness to faith comes a deeper understanding of love. But there are other changes happening as well, which is summed up at the end of the song:
“Everybody got all the money
Everybody got all the beautiful clothes
Everybody got all the flowers
I don’t have one single rose”
It would defy character to think that Bob Dylan is wallowing in self-pity here. I believe what Dylan is really saying in these lines refer to how much of the world feels this way these days. It’s a big picture view.
All of this plays out with the refrain “and the fourth part of the day’s already gone”. In other words, just when you think there is no possibility for change, that’s when it happens. It's one reason Bob Dylan persists in his craft, despite deteriorating vocal chords. But one thing Dylan fans can rely on is artistic integrity, personified in many ways, including as a reflection of blood of the land. I'll take that over a perfect set of pipes lacking substance any day.
- Pete
Saturday, August 4, 2018
Master Blueprints # 30: “Mama Take This Badge from Me, I Can’t Use It Anymore”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Bob Dylan songs)
Song: “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”
Album: Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid
Release Date: July 1973
Pulling into the work parking lot this past Monday after my standard 40-minute commute, I slipped into a vacant spot next to a familiar pickup truck. After shutting off the car, grabbing my laptop, and briefly collecting my new-workweek thoughts, I stepped out into a warm summer breeze and started walking into the office. As I passed the rear of that truck, however, I suddenly found myself uncharacteristically stopping in my tracks. I did this to read the fine print on a bumper sticker that, for whatever reason, caught my eye with large bold print which declared “Don’t Obey!”. With my full attention, the fine print then went on to read “- more hideous crimes have been committed in the name of obedience than have ever been committed in the name of rebellion (C.P. Snow).”
Now, I’ve walked past this truck quite often on my way in and out of the office, seeing as it was purchased at least a few years ago by a colleague. However, with my mind typically elsewhere, I’d not taken in this bumper sticker – bold print, fine print, none of it - until that moment. Considering the circumstances, which I will get to soon enough, I found this out-of-the-box moment rather fascinating. Anyhow, after reading and mulling over some, I continued into the office and set up shop. But even after logging into the laptop and jotting down a few notes to put my priorities in proper order for the workday ahead, I could not get that quote out of my head. And so, I went back outside to the back of that truck, notepad and pen in hand, and proceeded to write it all down – verbatim - for this blog entry.
What was it that had me so fixated on that Charles Percy (C.P.) Snow quote? Yes, it’s an intriguing declaration to ponder, but it was more about the entire set of circumstances that hit me. This was primarily because, on my way into work that morning I had made my choice on what album I was going to listen to in search of this week’s Master Blueprint inspiration: Bob Dylan’s 1973 soundtrack album Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, which was produced for the Sam Peckinpah movie of the same name. I then commenced to listen to it from beginning to end as I drove in. And the central theme to that movie? You got it: It’s captured in a nutshell on that bumper sticker.
It was the 3rd time in a week that this general thought was thrust in my face. The first was a Facebook video clip of a recent speech given by actor Matt Damon, whereby he made a very similar statement, noting among other key points that this was what our Founding Fathers did (these are after all interesting times, are they not?) The second of course was in reflecting on the movie Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid on my drive into work. The based-on-actual-events film portrays the lawman, Pat Garrett (James Colburn), struggling with his conscience while hunting down his old friend, now adversary, Billy the Kid (Kris Kristofferson), who is portrayed in contrast as a free-spirit of-a-man (“Billy, they don’t like you to be so free” as Bob Dylan sings it). Obedient compromise vs. lawless integrity? Yeah, that’s the general idea. But after listening and contemplating all week, I’m now thinking…. not so fast.
Spoiler alert: Skip the following paragraph if you wish to watch the movie before knowing the ending.
The movie ends symbolically with Pat Garrett shooting at his own reflection in the mirror after the successful bounty killing of Billy the Kid. Also symbolic is a boy throwing rocks at Garrett as he rides off on his horse, hinting at a younger, more innocent version of himself now disgusted with the older, compromised person he has become. Side Note: Watching the movie now, it reminds me of Clint Eastwood’s excellent 1992 film Unforgiven, but in that Academy Award winner (Best Picture), Eastwood would flip the roles around; the outlaw heavy with guilty conscience, not so the ‘lawful’ sheriff.
Bob Dylan acts in the movie as the quirky sidekick character “Alias”, which is a tiny bit of comic relief for such a depressing movie. But it’s his score that he will be best remembered for in relation to Peckinpah’s film, particularly one classic original song, “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bWzyiU-S_w ), which strums along in the background as one of the lawman characters, played by Slim Pickens, comes to the realization he is dying from a bullet wound, his wife sobbing by his side. The scene humanizes this Western in a way that few scenes in the genre do.
Only one other song in the soundtrack has lyrics, “Billy”, which is performed in several incarnations (Billy 1, 4 and 7). The remainder of the songs are Tex-Mex-style instrumentals with names that evoke wild west scenes, such as “Turkey Chase”, “River Theme” and “Bunkhouse Theme” (the latter sounding very much as the inspirational guitar chords for Pete Townshend’s “God Speaks, Of Marty Robbins” off The Who album, Endless Wire). This works like alchemy for a film with such powerful visual effect. It’s an ideal album to play in the car as you make your way through beautiful open vistas, especially in the southwest.
“Billy 1” (& 4 & 7) is an interesting song that complicates the general narrative of the film in a good way. Other than the prior-mentioned line about being free, the lyrics do little to glorify William H. Bonney (aka Billy the Kid), in the fashion that Bob Dylan does for another 19th century western outlaw, John Wesley Hardin, on his 1967 song and album of ~ the same name (Dylan adds a ‘g’ to the last name). As with Pat Garrett, there’s a compromised man lurking in those lyrics, which include a line about killing a woman in El Paso, another line about people making advances on Billy the Kid’s spirit and soul, and the repeated Prodigal-Son-like refrain “Billy, you’re so far away from home”. “Billy 1” (& 4 & 7) makes me curious as to what the lyrics would have been if Dylan had written a song about the man hunting him down (the closest we get is the instrumental “Cantina Theme – Workin’ for the Law”). It would have made for an interesting compare/contrast.
Speaking of Pat Garrett (again), I believe it’s no mistake that his name preceded Billy the Kid’s in the title of the movie. Garrett’s role and character flaws are scoped out more than The Kid’s. We see him getting angrier as the movie unwinds, not so much at Billy the Kid, but at himself. Right, wrong, good, bad, abiding, not abiding, obedience, disobedience, truth, consequence….it all plays out in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. These are themes which never get dated, at least for as long as we humans struggle with our humanity.
Which brings me back to that work-lot bumper sticker. It’s been stirring up all sorts of thoughts this week. For example, people who are saying these sorts of things in the United States these days are generally left leaning. They are angry, and as I see it, rightfully so. Yet only eight years ago it was the newly formed rightwing “Tea Party” that was rattling cages with comparable sentiments. In Texas, as recently as 2 years ago, right-leaning common folk and GOP legislators were even initiating petitions and floor votes to succeed from the Union. Along the same vein, the same type of crowd has been protesting confederate statues being removed from Southern campuses and parks; those depicted on the statues being the last ones who were successful at succession back in the 1860s. Now that the shoe is on the other foot, those of right-leaning ideology shout ‘unpatriotic’ when, for example, football players kneel during the National Anthem. Succession one day, patriotism the next. Food for thought, ehh?
Anyhow, from this multi-pronged point of view, that bumper sticker is politically neutral. You kinda gotta take it a bit further with that core statement to make your allegiances clear. You also kinda gotta know your current events when reading such sentiments to put it all into proper context.
One historical fact that hovers over Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid is the settling of the West. There was no longer room for free-roaming spirits like Billy the Kid in the late 19th century. Fences were being erected to make the case for large expanses of private property. The government was asked to intervene for the property owners and to do so with force if necessary. They obliged. It’s a big reason why the civil service grew exponentially in the late 19th and early 20th centuries: The property owners demanded it (not only to defend their land, but to map it, survey it, and connect it with a road network). Side Note: Today 96% of Texas is privately owned, and there’s an insistence by many that the government now stay out of their faces. More shoes switching feet.
Since I had movie-watching on the brain this week, I began thinking of characters who defied the law on the big screen. The first one who came to mind was Steve McQueen as Hilts (aka “The Cooler King”) in the classic World War II prison-camp movie, The Great Escape. Here is a defiant, law-breaking (albeit Nazi prison camp law) role that seems to transcend political affiliation. “The Cooler King” representing common ground? Gotta start somewhere I suppose. Billy the Kid on the other hand? Now there’s a tricky one. With all those shoes switching feet back and forth in the past 100-plus years, it’s hard to discern who if anyone would have his back if he were defying the law in the southwest today (unless perhaps if he was taking over federal buildings on public land).
The thought I found myself lingering on the most this week in relation to that bumper sticker is the position of many in the religious right, who adhere to a strict interpretation of the Bible in abiding to the law (i.e. Romans 13:1). That is of course, unless the law is in contradiction to God’s will. I can understand this to some degree. The problem however then becomes your own interpretation of God’s will. Getting it wrong has gotten a lot of civilizations into big trouble over the centuries. That’s where conscience must kick in. We all intuitively know right from wrong and hopefully we all know somebody with integrity who can help guide us when a touch of grey insidiously seeping its way in. It can mean the difference between an act of kindness vs. self- centeredness. On the bigger picture, it can mean the difference between peace and war. What truly amazes me about the religious-right is its acceptance of leaders with all sorts of serious human faults if those leaders connect with their own personal agenda That’s how the grey seeps in. Hey, I admit, this happens with any ideology, left or right. But isn’t faith supposed to rise above the fray?
I’m not sure of the political affiliations of that parking lot pickup truck owner (we keep these sorts of opinions to ourselves, at least with each other), but based on the presence of that bumper sticker during the current events we are living right now, I have a pretty good idea. Regardless, that quote brought out the politics in me this week, a topic I typically avoid, as I do try to keep this blog site generally upbeat and positive. And yet, I’m fine with scoping out these thoughts this week, because they are fundamental to the story that is Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. Bob Dylan typically avoids such subject matter as well, but I think he knew all along what he was getting himself into when he signed up to act and produce the music for this early 70’s flick.
The original version of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” clocks in at 2 ½ minutes, unusual brevity for a Bob Dylan song. However, in that brief span of time, it packs a wallop with straight-forward lyrics. It’s the inevitable end game of a song when black and white turns an ugly shade of grey. As is the case of the bumper sticker, there’s plenty of grey in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, resulting in scene after scene of heavy, sad scenarios playing out. It’s a good movie and soundtrack that gets you thinking, but in the end… all that grey is my take-home message.
- Pete
Song: “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”
Album: Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid
Release Date: July 1973
Pulling into the work parking lot this past Monday after my standard 40-minute commute, I slipped into a vacant spot next to a familiar pickup truck. After shutting off the car, grabbing my laptop, and briefly collecting my new-workweek thoughts, I stepped out into a warm summer breeze and started walking into the office. As I passed the rear of that truck, however, I suddenly found myself uncharacteristically stopping in my tracks. I did this to read the fine print on a bumper sticker that, for whatever reason, caught my eye with large bold print which declared “Don’t Obey!”. With my full attention, the fine print then went on to read “- more hideous crimes have been committed in the name of obedience than have ever been committed in the name of rebellion (C.P. Snow).”
Now, I’ve walked past this truck quite often on my way in and out of the office, seeing as it was purchased at least a few years ago by a colleague. However, with my mind typically elsewhere, I’d not taken in this bumper sticker – bold print, fine print, none of it - until that moment. Considering the circumstances, which I will get to soon enough, I found this out-of-the-box moment rather fascinating. Anyhow, after reading and mulling over some, I continued into the office and set up shop. But even after logging into the laptop and jotting down a few notes to put my priorities in proper order for the workday ahead, I could not get that quote out of my head. And so, I went back outside to the back of that truck, notepad and pen in hand, and proceeded to write it all down – verbatim - for this blog entry.
What was it that had me so fixated on that Charles Percy (C.P.) Snow quote? Yes, it’s an intriguing declaration to ponder, but it was more about the entire set of circumstances that hit me. This was primarily because, on my way into work that morning I had made my choice on what album I was going to listen to in search of this week’s Master Blueprint inspiration: Bob Dylan’s 1973 soundtrack album Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, which was produced for the Sam Peckinpah movie of the same name. I then commenced to listen to it from beginning to end as I drove in. And the central theme to that movie? You got it: It’s captured in a nutshell on that bumper sticker.
It was the 3rd time in a week that this general thought was thrust in my face. The first was a Facebook video clip of a recent speech given by actor Matt Damon, whereby he made a very similar statement, noting among other key points that this was what our Founding Fathers did (these are after all interesting times, are they not?) The second of course was in reflecting on the movie Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid on my drive into work. The based-on-actual-events film portrays the lawman, Pat Garrett (James Colburn), struggling with his conscience while hunting down his old friend, now adversary, Billy the Kid (Kris Kristofferson), who is portrayed in contrast as a free-spirit of-a-man (“Billy, they don’t like you to be so free” as Bob Dylan sings it). Obedient compromise vs. lawless integrity? Yeah, that’s the general idea. But after listening and contemplating all week, I’m now thinking…. not so fast.
Spoiler alert: Skip the following paragraph if you wish to watch the movie before knowing the ending.
The movie ends symbolically with Pat Garrett shooting at his own reflection in the mirror after the successful bounty killing of Billy the Kid. Also symbolic is a boy throwing rocks at Garrett as he rides off on his horse, hinting at a younger, more innocent version of himself now disgusted with the older, compromised person he has become. Side Note: Watching the movie now, it reminds me of Clint Eastwood’s excellent 1992 film Unforgiven, but in that Academy Award winner (Best Picture), Eastwood would flip the roles around; the outlaw heavy with guilty conscience, not so the ‘lawful’ sheriff.
Bob Dylan acts in the movie as the quirky sidekick character “Alias”, which is a tiny bit of comic relief for such a depressing movie. But it’s his score that he will be best remembered for in relation to Peckinpah’s film, particularly one classic original song, “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bWzyiU-S_w ), which strums along in the background as one of the lawman characters, played by Slim Pickens, comes to the realization he is dying from a bullet wound, his wife sobbing by his side. The scene humanizes this Western in a way that few scenes in the genre do.
Only one other song in the soundtrack has lyrics, “Billy”, which is performed in several incarnations (Billy 1, 4 and 7). The remainder of the songs are Tex-Mex-style instrumentals with names that evoke wild west scenes, such as “Turkey Chase”, “River Theme” and “Bunkhouse Theme” (the latter sounding very much as the inspirational guitar chords for Pete Townshend’s “God Speaks, Of Marty Robbins” off The Who album, Endless Wire). This works like alchemy for a film with such powerful visual effect. It’s an ideal album to play in the car as you make your way through beautiful open vistas, especially in the southwest.
“Billy 1” (& 4 & 7) is an interesting song that complicates the general narrative of the film in a good way. Other than the prior-mentioned line about being free, the lyrics do little to glorify William H. Bonney (aka Billy the Kid), in the fashion that Bob Dylan does for another 19th century western outlaw, John Wesley Hardin, on his 1967 song and album of ~ the same name (Dylan adds a ‘g’ to the last name). As with Pat Garrett, there’s a compromised man lurking in those lyrics, which include a line about killing a woman in El Paso, another line about people making advances on Billy the Kid’s spirit and soul, and the repeated Prodigal-Son-like refrain “Billy, you’re so far away from home”. “Billy 1” (& 4 & 7) makes me curious as to what the lyrics would have been if Dylan had written a song about the man hunting him down (the closest we get is the instrumental “Cantina Theme – Workin’ for the Law”). It would have made for an interesting compare/contrast.
Speaking of Pat Garrett (again), I believe it’s no mistake that his name preceded Billy the Kid’s in the title of the movie. Garrett’s role and character flaws are scoped out more than The Kid’s. We see him getting angrier as the movie unwinds, not so much at Billy the Kid, but at himself. Right, wrong, good, bad, abiding, not abiding, obedience, disobedience, truth, consequence….it all plays out in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. These are themes which never get dated, at least for as long as we humans struggle with our humanity.
Which brings me back to that work-lot bumper sticker. It’s been stirring up all sorts of thoughts this week. For example, people who are saying these sorts of things in the United States these days are generally left leaning. They are angry, and as I see it, rightfully so. Yet only eight years ago it was the newly formed rightwing “Tea Party” that was rattling cages with comparable sentiments. In Texas, as recently as 2 years ago, right-leaning common folk and GOP legislators were even initiating petitions and floor votes to succeed from the Union. Along the same vein, the same type of crowd has been protesting confederate statues being removed from Southern campuses and parks; those depicted on the statues being the last ones who were successful at succession back in the 1860s. Now that the shoe is on the other foot, those of right-leaning ideology shout ‘unpatriotic’ when, for example, football players kneel during the National Anthem. Succession one day, patriotism the next. Food for thought, ehh?
Anyhow, from this multi-pronged point of view, that bumper sticker is politically neutral. You kinda gotta take it a bit further with that core statement to make your allegiances clear. You also kinda gotta know your current events when reading such sentiments to put it all into proper context.
One historical fact that hovers over Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid is the settling of the West. There was no longer room for free-roaming spirits like Billy the Kid in the late 19th century. Fences were being erected to make the case for large expanses of private property. The government was asked to intervene for the property owners and to do so with force if necessary. They obliged. It’s a big reason why the civil service grew exponentially in the late 19th and early 20th centuries: The property owners demanded it (not only to defend their land, but to map it, survey it, and connect it with a road network). Side Note: Today 96% of Texas is privately owned, and there’s an insistence by many that the government now stay out of their faces. More shoes switching feet.
Since I had movie-watching on the brain this week, I began thinking of characters who defied the law on the big screen. The first one who came to mind was Steve McQueen as Hilts (aka “The Cooler King”) in the classic World War II prison-camp movie, The Great Escape. Here is a defiant, law-breaking (albeit Nazi prison camp law) role that seems to transcend political affiliation. “The Cooler King” representing common ground? Gotta start somewhere I suppose. Billy the Kid on the other hand? Now there’s a tricky one. With all those shoes switching feet back and forth in the past 100-plus years, it’s hard to discern who if anyone would have his back if he were defying the law in the southwest today (unless perhaps if he was taking over federal buildings on public land).
The thought I found myself lingering on the most this week in relation to that bumper sticker is the position of many in the religious right, who adhere to a strict interpretation of the Bible in abiding to the law (i.e. Romans 13:1). That is of course, unless the law is in contradiction to God’s will. I can understand this to some degree. The problem however then becomes your own interpretation of God’s will. Getting it wrong has gotten a lot of civilizations into big trouble over the centuries. That’s where conscience must kick in. We all intuitively know right from wrong and hopefully we all know somebody with integrity who can help guide us when a touch of grey insidiously seeping its way in. It can mean the difference between an act of kindness vs. self- centeredness. On the bigger picture, it can mean the difference between peace and war. What truly amazes me about the religious-right is its acceptance of leaders with all sorts of serious human faults if those leaders connect with their own personal agenda That’s how the grey seeps in. Hey, I admit, this happens with any ideology, left or right. But isn’t faith supposed to rise above the fray?
I’m not sure of the political affiliations of that parking lot pickup truck owner (we keep these sorts of opinions to ourselves, at least with each other), but based on the presence of that bumper sticker during the current events we are living right now, I have a pretty good idea. Regardless, that quote brought out the politics in me this week, a topic I typically avoid, as I do try to keep this blog site generally upbeat and positive. And yet, I’m fine with scoping out these thoughts this week, because they are fundamental to the story that is Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. Bob Dylan typically avoids such subject matter as well, but I think he knew all along what he was getting himself into when he signed up to act and produce the music for this early 70’s flick.
The original version of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” clocks in at 2 ½ minutes, unusual brevity for a Bob Dylan song. However, in that brief span of time, it packs a wallop with straight-forward lyrics. It’s the inevitable end game of a song when black and white turns an ugly shade of grey. As is the case of the bumper sticker, there’s plenty of grey in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, resulting in scene after scene of heavy, sad scenarios playing out. It’s a good movie and soundtrack that gets you thinking, but in the end… all that grey is my take-home message.
- Pete
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