Waist Deep in the Media Swamp

Dylan was the first major artist I saw in concert – Winter, 1966, I believe – after Highway 61 Revisited was released. Because I was only 13, my Dad kindly drove me and my buddy Larry Lindsey about 30 miles to see him at the Westchester Community  Center’s 200-300 seat auditorium. Sopworth Camel (a one-hit wonder) opened, followed by the Loving Spoonful. Dylan did an acoustic set, followed by an electric set. I was awed. I will always remember him there – having fun, and ROCKING OUT!

Who knew I’d still be listening to him after all this time, and, more importantly, that he would continue to write amazing songs. Thanks, Bob.

But time goes on and he’s now 70. Damn.

And to keep things in perspective, my buddy Jimmy Z, legendary blue musician,  has blogged about being with Tom Petty at Live Aid and playing a prank on ol’ Bob:

There where we were after our Live Aid show safely done, the pres­sure is off and every­one is con­grat­u­lat­ing us.  The party was just start­ing to heat up as the after­noon wound its way toward evening.  At one point I was stand­ing with some peo­ple, talk­ing and laugh­ing when all of a sud­den every­one went quiet and I looked up and noticed that Bob Dylan was walk­ing by us and every­one just turned so rev­er­ent.  I half expected the heav­ens to part and vio­lins to start play­ing the way some of these peo­ple were behav­ing.  They were say­ing things like “ssshhh…its Bob Dylan…he’s get­ting a drink.”  Or “ooohhh.….its Bob Dylan…he’s going to the toi­let!”  Now don’t get me wrong, Bob Dylan as a writer and inno­va­tor is tops in my book.  But Jeez…come on people…he’s just one of us.…isn’t he?

Well that’s what I thought that day and still do.  There were three porta-potties set up in the back stage area right next to these giant para­chute tents which had been set up to pro­tect us from the heat.  As Dylan is head­ing towards the porta­bles, the peo­ple around me were say­ing, “Bob’s gotta take a leak” So right then I decide to saunter on over to the out­houses myself.  As I got there, Bob was already inside and I could hear him pee­ing.  I looked back over my shoul­der at the expec­tant back­stage crowd and them at me, then back at Bob’s out­house.  I grabbed it with both hands and gave it a good four sec­ond shake.  Every­one else back­stage could hear Bob yelling, “Hey! Hey!! Hey!!!”   I was laugh­ing so hard and when I turned around I was greeted by a sight I won’t soon for­get.  There was Tom Petty, man­age­ment and prob­a­bly at least thirty of the biggest rock stars of the day with their jaws on the ground look­ing utterly aghast at what I had just done.  I walked around back to Tom Petty and he laid into me.  All that slow south­ern drawl and laid back humor was gone.  He said, “I can’t believe you just did that…I can’t believe it …that was Bob, fuckin’, Dylan!  Are you out of your mind?”  To be hon­est I didn’t see what the big deal was.  I was still try­ing not to laugh.

What I do remem­ber is the sight of Bob Dylan com­ing out of that portable out­house with a piss stain trail right down the left leg of his Levi’s, look­ing to see who did this to him, like any other mor­tal would.  And in my mind look­ing pissed off and humored all at the same time.  Any way Bob, I’d just like to say I think you’re a good sport and you han­dled your­self with grace and aplomb in an awk­ward situation…I wish you could have seen it from where I was because it was fuckin’ funny…

Read the whole post on Confessions of of a Glorified Sideman.

My favorite Dylan song? Hard to say. Though many of his words and songs changed me and helped me grow intellectually and politically  in ways I still can’t completely grasp, probably his one of his shortest is one my favorites – All The Tired Horses, from his much-maligned Self Portrait. It’s not sung by Bob, it has female singers and overly-lush orchestrated, mawkishly sentimental strings. I first heard it while I was on the road and it drowns me in nostalgia, for whatever reason. Kinda like his You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere.

For the first time, on a birthday tribute today, I heard him reading Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie – could be the best thing he ever wrote.