One who sings with his tongue on fire...

Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.

There is a link on bobdylan.com to an essay about the oral tradition of literature and the beauty of Bob Dylan's voice. It is a very interesting piece - badly written in parts - but expressing what those of us who are moved by Dylan have known for so long. Check it out by following the 'Links' thread on the official website.

I may have mentioned in an earlier post that I have friends who do not like Dylan. They say they don't 'get' him (what's not to get?!!) and that his voice is terrible. Some say they 'don't understand what he is saying' and I want to howl at the moon in despair!

What I would say in response to those people is that Dylan's diction is darn near perfect on his studio recordings. End of story. Any mistakes (usually left in purposefully) only add to the poignancy of the recordings - the fun, the human lack of perfection, the spontaneity.

I really do not understand why anyone would have difficulty with that. Perhaps what they mean is that his voice is not computer-generated smooth. Perhaps they mean that the lyrics are not superficial or instantly understandable and need some thought. Who knows what they mean? They make no sense to me...

Bob Dylan - and I am going to nail my colours to the mast quite firmly here - has a most beautiful voice. In the oral tradition of story-telling, the multiplicitous semi-autobiographical masking of reality in role-playing and reinvention... Dylan crosses genres with ease and his voice is the key. As I once said in this blog, you cannot just read Dylan's lyrics. His performance art needs to be heard and experienced. It transcends the page and written word.

Dylan shifts rhythm and cadence; he emphasises different words, stresses syllables, lilts and falls, even completely misses notes or forgets words in his live performances... and yet, those mistakes can be the moments of the greatest feeling.

There is a fire and power in the way Dylan sings that really makes a person connect. In the absence of him being there in person, his voice puts us in his presence. I think that is why, probably to Dylan's own frustration, people feel like they know him when they don't. We all have a role to interpret the versions of truth and multiple personalities we are presented with - the confusion of pronouns and the variety of masks. That gives the listener a vested interest in the music. We are no longer passive. And it is the power of the voice that keeps us involved - it keeps us guessing and questioning our understanding.

In later years, Dylan's voice is aged and broken, but still containing the deep beauty maturity brings. It rolls across the apocolyptic wasteland of Ain't Talkin' with the gravitas and dignity of a world-weary elder statesman of the damned.

I have yet to hear a performer whose voice can more perfectly understand and convey regret and pain, fun and sarcasm, speculation and knowledge, truth and fiction... the value of a silence and the meaning in a sigh or breath.

That is where his true level of 'genius' shines through. The world will never see a performer like him again.

Oh, and Bob Dylan has a great ability to sing in tune. Gee, the guy can cough, sneeze and laugh in tune!

If you listen to his duet with Johnny Cash on Girl From the North Country there is a case in point. I have always loved Johnny Cash's voice - it is rich and warm and he was also one of the greatest performers. However, in my opinion Dylan's voice is far more emotive. He is also far more able to improvise a tune and experiment. Their voices actually compliment each other really well in a duet, but the difference is so obvious. Johnny Cash's voice might be more 'easy' to listen to, and have a more mainstream appeal, but I back Dylan on versatility and expression every time.

And yes, I know I am a sychophant and hero-worshipper! I can't help it - the man moves me.

Trouble...

I had to fly into town last week. The weather was terrible and it was a real white-knuckle ride. Anyone who has had a bumpy trip on an Otter plane will know what I mean. The pilot was excellent, but it was pure mind-over-matter when it came to me not losing my lunch!

I kept myself together by listening to my iPod. I was listening to 'Trouble' from Shot of Love. Boy, that's not a song to listen to when on a dodgy plane trip over the Pacific Ocean:

Trouble in the water
Trouble in the air
Go all the way to the other side of the world
You'll find trouble there...

I have to fly again tomorrow, then fly home again next week. I have my Gravol. I have my iPod recharged. I heard that Bob Dylan has a pilot's licence. I wonder whether he can fly an Otter or a Beaver? Anyway, he will be with me in spirit as I take to the skies. However, I think I might choose something a little more upbeat for the next flight. It might be time to rehash New Morning or Nashville Skyline. I might even challenge the world with a gritty turn at Modern Times (parts of that album are the musical equivalent of a two-fingered salute to the universe!).

I'm not ready to try to get to heaven quite yet...

New Morning

Was there ever such hope and promise? 'So happy just to see you smile underneath this sky of blue'...

Well, no blue skies here today. Today the rain has washed away the morning frost and I am hoping the wind holds off as I am due to take the float plane to town tomorrow...

New Morning is a lovely album. If you have never heard it, give it a try. I have been listening to it a lot lately. I need the hope and promise it brings. If I had the time, I would give you a run-down of the songs... I think there is a good case for just listening and absorbing without preconceptions. All I can say is that this album calms a raging soul and gives optimism in the darkest times.

I must just point out that you haven't lived (!) until you hear the way Dylan delivers the lyrics of 'If Dogs Run Free' :

My mind weaves a symphony and tapestry of rhyme.
Oh, winds which rush my tale to thee
So it may flow and be,
To each his own, it's all unknown,
If dogs run free.

Take the time to breathe and enjoy the best of life.

Girl From The North Country

I may have been quiet these past few months, but I have not forsaken Mr. Dylan - or is it that unwittingly he has not forsaken me?

I have moved. Moved country. Moved job. Moved life. Been moved. Moved on. Moved over. Motion and more motion in the midst of this standing still.

I have fulfilled my dream in one sense - I am no longer a city girl. I am a Girl of the North Country. My short hair is beginning to lengthen and curl. The snowflakes fall and fall and fall, the winds hit heavy and I am wearing my coat so warm...

And still Bob Dylan is with me. I find comfort in his words and music. There is turmoil and there is isolation. There is change and there is consistency. My husband is consistent and strong beside me. Dylan is my constant other.

I was listening to Nashville Skyline on my iPod yesterday. Then my husband put Street Legal on the stereo in the evening. It might have been the juxtaposition of those two albums that set my mind reeling and thinking... but I will save my thoughts.

In the meantime, I will allow the snow to smother my senses and paint my darkest worries a clean white.