Bob Dylan's 70th Birthday or My Life with Bob Dylan

My autographed copy of The Times They Are a-Changin'

Initially, I was too young to be a Bob Dylan fan. I was four-years-old when "Blowin' In The Wind" was recorded. Bob protested, went electric, crashed his motorcycle and went country before I was twelve years old. I missed it. My mother used to say I was born a decade too late and it's probably true.

I discovered Bob Dylan sometime around 1971, just about the time he was written off as a faded meteor from the previous decade. While he fought with his record company and stayed mostly out of the studio for the next two years, his older music was changing my life as I entered adolescence.

My first, battered copy of Writings and Drawings

I'd grown up in George Wallace's Alabama, though I was too young to understand a Governor who stood in the door of the University of Alabama to bar the first black student or to fathom German Shepherds turned loose on black citizens in Birmingham. In my little Baptist Church we sang "Jesus loves the little children. All the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world." Outside the church it wasn't true and many of those same people had no interest in seeing it change.

Vietnam was on the television. The prevailing view was fatalistic. No one felt there was a choice but to do what the government said, but somehow the adults were convinced we weren't really trying to win, else we would and in short order. There was little tolerance for dissenting voices. Hippies were drug-addled hedonists. We listened to country music: Loretta Lynn, Conway Twitty and Buck Owens.

When I started listening to Bob Dylan I didn't understand some of what I heard. Like a prophetic voice speaking in the wilderness of my youth, it sounded to my ears like riddles, like some encrypted language. I remember when I realized what he was talking about in "Oxford Town" when he said he that with his face blackened he had to sit in the back. I learned about Emmett Till, Hattie Carrol and Hurricane Carter and the scales fell from my eyes about the culture in which I was so immersed that even now I struggle to come clean.

Front Cover of Blood on the Tracks

Rare, original back cover of Blood on the Tracks

Bob saved me from disco. Isn't that enough to inspire eternal gratitude? By 1974 I followed Bob in the newspaper and in Rolling Stone. I cut out every article about his tour with the Band. I longed to see him, but it seemed like an impossible dream. Disco took over my friends and with the demise of "underground radio," I felt like a musical outcast. When Blood on the Tracks became a huge hit, I thought there might be hope for the world. At fifteen years old, I didn't understand divorce or the pain of adult relationships, but I felt his pain and understood the difference between pop music and art born of agony. I listened to "Shelter from the Storm" a thousand times in the darkness of my room.

In 1976, with Desire high on the charts, with my seventeen-year-old self attempting to decipher "Isis" and longing for a "Sara" of my own, the Rolling Thunder review announced two shows in one night in Mobile, Alabama. I was stunned both at the opportunity to see him in person and at the ticket price, which at $8.75 was nearly three dollars more than I had paid to see anyone else. My only regret is that I chose one show instead of doing the rational thing and stealing money to go to both. It was transcendent. He was with Joan Baez and Roger McGuin and I could pretend I wasn't born a decade too late.

My favorite Bob Dylan album (most days)

I loved the "Hard Rain" television special and didn't understand why people made fun of his ragged voice and bedraggled looks. I guess they were enjoying the Bee Gees and Donna Summer. "Street-Legal" soon followed and it remains one of my favorite Dylan albums of all time. I saw him in 1978, again in Mobile, doing his "Vegas" show and I thought it was great. It was late in the tour, over six months after "Bob Dylan At Budokan" was recorded, and the music was much better than the album.

I got married in 1979, just a couple of weeks before "Slow Train Coming" came out. It baffled me. it was then that I realized his voice was changing into his old man blues weapon. Small wonder, given the shouting style vocals he used in the latter part of the Rolling Thunder Tour. I cringed to think how it would be received. I was stunned when it was a hit. My wife and I are still transported in time back to south Alabama and that small house trailer with holes in the floor whenever we hear a song from that album. It became the soundtrack to our young marriage.

We lived in Gainesville, Florida when Saved and Shot of Love came out. I saw Bob in Tampa in 1981 and stood at his feet during the most awesome acoustic version of "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)" I'll ever hope to hear. We got literature that night from the Jews for Jesus. I enjoyed his religious music, but I was glad by then he had returned to performing the old songs. I was protesting the U.S. involvement in central America and I needed to hear the early songs filled with righteous anger.

Infidels came out within days of the birth of our daughter. We were living in a tiny, ramshackle house in Knoxville, Tennessee and though we didn't have heat when she was born, we had a stereo and that was the first music she heard. I'd read T.H. Lawrence beside her crib then play "Jokerman." I never hoped she would become a fan. I was ten years too young and she missed it by a generation.

As the eighties passed and Bob struggled, so did we. I wondered if any of us would break through to the other side. Then came "Oh Mercy." I finally started making a little money. I saw Bob three times in 1988, in Nashville, Atlanta and Knoxville. He was doing better and so were we. I caught him in 1991 in Virginia and took my eight year old daughter. She enjoyed dancing, but was otherwise not impressed. Seeing Bob take the stage with nothing but a harmonica is an image I'll always cherish. I know he does it, now, but it was stunning that first time. When he played "Everything Is Broken" fireworks exploded in the distance and he laughed.

I continued to catch him when I could, wherever I could. In one memorable concert for me, at the Tennessee Theater when Bob sang the bridge to "Just Like A Woman," I understood I had to leave my profession. It was as if everyone left the room but Mr. Dylan and myself and he called me over to the stage and said, "Hey man, this is what you need to say to those people at work: 'It was raining from the first and I was dying there of thirst, so I came in here. And your long time curse hurts, but what's worse is this pain in here. I can't stay in here. Ain't it clear that I don't fit? I believe it's time for us to quit and when we meet again, introduced as friends, please don't let on that you knew me when I was hungry and it was your world.'" I cried and started the slow march toward a different career.

In 1996, my daughter gave me an amazing and completely unexpected present for her thirteenth birthday: She said all she wanted was to go wherever Bob was and see him, again, with me. We saw him in Chattanooga and swayed to the left of the stage having taken our often uncanny connection to a place where the only words that resonate are Bob's. We saw him at least once, often two or three times each year for the next ten years. We've seen him with Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard, stood for hours in the freezing cold and stood through torrential rains. We've planned concerts for months in advance and taken to the road spontaneously. These are among the best times of my life.

As the years have passed, I've come to think of my life as a sometimes difficult, often amazingly swift journey in which Bob leads me, just a little farther down the path, shining a light for me to find my footing. "Time Out Of Mind" came out as I entered my fortieth year. "Trying To Get To Heaven" and "Not Dark Yet" gave me the words to the emotions I had begun to feel about the passing of time and my own mortality. My daughter and I bought "Love And Theft" just after midnight on September 11, 2001, just hours before the twin towers were hit. Like many people, I couldn't listen to music for days or weeks. I could only read and listen to the news as we learned about a man named Osama Bin Laden. When I returned to the CD, I was stunned to hear how much of the album could be seen as commentary on something that had not happened when the songs were written.

In 2007 my daughter was married and Bob helpfully included "When The Deal Goes Down" on Modern Times so we could have a waltz for the father/daughter dance. Thank you, Bob. 2009 brought "Together Through Life." Could there be a better title for my story? My granddaughter was born a few weeks later. It's her story, too. We're bringing her along slowly.

Now Mr. Dylan is seventy and the rest of us aren't as young as we once were, despite what the song might say. I feel so fortunate to have had his help to understand my world, learning to both challenge its injustice cling to its beauty. I'm forever grateful to have his light guiding my paths through the tempestuous early years, through the dark times and into my own old age. His music helped make me who I am and it still startles me with its insight when I least suspect it. Someone said living in the same era with Bob Dylan is like living at the same time as Shakespeare. I believe this to be true.

So, happy birthday, Bob. And many more. Please. We need you now, more than ever.

Knoxville Urban Guy
May 24, 2011

*Knoxville and WDVX will host its seventh annual Bob Dylan Birthday Bash on first Friday at the Market Square Stage, June 3. Local bands will perform Dylan songs in their own style ranging from bluegrass to jazz and hard rock. The evening will culminate with Tim O'Brien doing songs from his album of Bob Dylan bluegrass styled covers, "Red On Blonde." The entire event is free.

Bob Dylan's Birthday Eve: 70 songs for 70 years

This is a post for which some of you may want your money back because it has little, if anything, to do with Knoxville. I'll gladly process your requests.

Tomorrow is Bob Dylan's seventieth birthday. Those of you who have followed this blog no doubt aren't surprised to see some mention of it here. Tomorrow I will discuss why this man is so important to me and why I chose to name this blog after one of his songs. Attempts at naming the greatest or most important Dylan songs are doomed from the outset because it is all personal, so I'm giving you the seventy songs which are most meaningful to me. Of course, ask me tomorrow and the list will change.

Image via Wikipedia

Bob and Joan at the March on Washington, 1963

Still, what other artist could you name whose top seventy most meaningful songs would leave off some that you love? I'll link and give comments to all the songs that time allows. If you click a link it will take you to Amazon where you can hear thirty seconds of the song and/or make a purchase for your itunes - which I highly recommend.

70. Seven Days (1980's)
69. Positively 4th Street (1960's) The best farewell to a friend who betrayed you. "You've got a lot of nerve to say you were my friend. When I was down, you just stood there grinning."

68. When The Night Comes Falling From The Sky (1980's)

67. Make You Feel My Love (1990's) No, he did not cover Garth Brooks.

66. What Can I Do For You? (1980's) Bob's best studio recorded harmonica solo.

65. To Ramona (1960's)
64. Is Your Love In Vain? (1970's)

63. If Not For You (1960's) Does anyone know that Dylan writes amazing love songs?

62. I And I (1980's)

61. Watching The River Flow (1970's) Zen to go with your born again.

60. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right (1960's) One of the best kiss-off songs to a lover ever. Break up and listen to these words and start to heal, "I'm not saying you treated me unkind. You could have done better, but I don't mind. You just kind of wasted my precious time, but don't think twice, it's alright."

59. Baby, Stop Crying (1970's)
58. Heart Of Mine (1980's)
57. Don't Fall Apart On Me Tonight(1980's)
56. Farewell, Angelina (1960's)
55. Girl From The North Country (1960's)
54. Sweetheart Like You (1980's)

53. If You See Her, Say Hello (1970's) If this song doesn't break your heart, you may need to see a cardiologist.

52. Changing Of The Guards (1970's)


51. When He Returns (1970's) His most specific religious, apocalyptic song. Just Bob, a piano and vocals delivered straight from the bottom of his soul.

50. Political World (1980's)
49. Caribbean Wind (1980's)
48. Tomorrow Is A Long Time(1970's)
47. One More Cup Of Coffee (1970's)
46. Blind Willie McTell (1980's)
45. When I Paint My Masterpiece (1960's)
44. Love Minus Zero/No Limit (1960's)
43. Sara (1970's)
42. Beyond Here Lies Nothin'(2000's)
41. Groom's Still Waiting At The Altar (1980's)
40. Simple Twist Of Fate (1970's)
39. Dark Eyes (1980's)
38. Buckets Of Rain (1970's)
37. I Want You (1960's)
36. Man In The Long Black Coat (1980's)

35. Silvio (1980's) I heard Dylan do this live probably a dozen or more times live and I never got tired of it. I know the eighties are felt to be Dylan's weakest decade, but these lines are among his best, "I can tell you fancy, I can tell you plain: You give something up for everything you gain. Since every pleasure's got an edge of pain, pay for your ticket and don't complain."


34. Shooting Star (1980's) Alone and thinking of lost love? This song says what you can't articulate.

33. Series Of Dreams (1980's)
32. Workingman's Blues #2 (2000's)
31. Jokerman (1980's)
30. My Back Pages (1960's)
29. Standing In The Doorway (1990's)
28. Tangled Up In Blue (1970's)
27. Things Have Changed (1990's)
26. Tears Of Rage (1960's)

25. When The Deal Goes Down (2000's) Who knew Dylan could waltz? I'll never hear it the same again after dancing the father/daughter dance with Urban Girl at her wedding. "We eat and we drink, we feel and we think, far down the street we stray. I laugh and I cry and I'm haunted by things I never meant nor wished to say. The midnight rain follows the train, we all wear the same thorny crown. Soul to soul, our shadows roll, and I'll be with you when the deal goes down."

24. Every Grain Of Sand (1980's) I love this song. It's from the "born again" period, but I love this version the most. It's a home demo with Dylan on piano, Carole Bayer Sager on harmony vocals and Bob's dogs barking occasionally in the background. As sincere a gospel song as was ever written.

23. Ballad Of A Thin Man (1960's)

22. Mr. Tambourine Man (1960's) If this song only had one verse, it would be one of the best songs ever written. I generally fall into the camp that says Bob is a songwriter, not a poet, but then there are these lines, "Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind, down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves, the haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach, far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow. Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands, with all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves. Let me forget about today until tomorrow"

21. All Along The Watchtower (1960's) Bob did not cover Jimi Hendrix. Have twelve lines ever conveyed more foreboding? I don't think so.

20. A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall (1960's)
19. Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues (1960's)

18. Mississippi (2000's) - Released on September 11, 2001. I bought it at midnight and didn't understand that Bob was telling in this song everything that would happen in the following hours. I know I sound crazy. Listen to the song and think about it.

17. Trying To Get To Heaven (1990's) Funny and chilling. How do you do that? "I'm just trying to get to heaven before they close the door."

16. Knockin' On Heaven's Door (1970's) Bob did not cover Gun's N Roses.

15. Señor (Tales Of Yankee Power) (1970's) - A haunting from possibly my favorite Bob Dylan album, Street-Legal. While not generally thought of as among his best, I felt he created an entirely new and different musical world. As for this song, is it about the U.S. and Central America? Is it about the end of the world? Probably, yes.

14. Queen Jane Approximately (1960's)

13. Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again (1960's) - This is the song that inspired the title of the blog. I grew up in Mobile and took the song for its longing for escape from the conservative mores that drowned me there, but never took the song as an insult to the city. I never get tired of hearing this song.

12. It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) (1960's) - Probably the most quotable Dylan song ever, which is a large statement. Look up the lyrics if you doubt me. My favorite memory of this song is hearing Dylan do it solo acoustic in 1981 in Tampa, Florida. I stood literally at his feet in open wonder. Here is one stunning verse among many, "Disillusioned words like bullets bark as human gods aim for their mark, make everything from toy guns that spark, to flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark. It’s easy to see without looking too far that not much is really sacred."

11. I Shall Be Released (1970's)

10. Blowin' In The Wind (1960's) - This song has meant so much to so many from the Civil Rights Era onward, that it becomes difficult to hear it with fresh ears. Simple, poignant and stunning to have been written by a twenty-one year old, though we now know he has an ancient soul. If you accomplish this song by twenty-one, what do yo do with the rest of your life? My favorite memory of this song is hearing a small child in Gainesville, Florida in 1981 sing the song as he meandered down a grassy hillside. I thought there might be hope for the world.

9. Just Like A Woman (1960's) - This song changed my life. I loved it for many years, but one night in the mid-nineties in the Tennessee Theater, Bob sang the bridge for me and I was never the same, " It was raining from the first and I was dying there of thirst, so I came in here. And your long-time curse hurts, but what’s worse is this pain in here. I can’t stay in here. Ain’t it clear that I just can’t fit? Yes, I believe it’s time for us to quit. When we meet again, introduced as friends, please don’t let on that you knew me when I was hungry and it was your world."

8. Forever Young (1970's) Written for his son, Jacob, this song has meaning for anyone for whom you mourn, love and long to have comfort, safety and a righteous life. "May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung. And may you stay Forever Young."

7. Shelter From The Storm (1970's) A stunning song from a stunning album, Blood On The Tracks. I love its quite, intense mystery. Who is this woman offering shelter? Is she a woman at all? Can you trust her? I also love the raw live version from Hard Rain. This, like so many of his songs is teeming with gorgeous images, like those in these lines, "Suddenly I turned around and she was standin’ there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair. She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns. “Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”"

6. Dignity (1990's) - I love the jaunty rhythm of this song as Bob explains there is absolutely no dignity to be found anywhere in this world. Check out these lines, "Wise man lookin’ in a blade of grass, young man lookin’ in the shadows that pass, poor man lookin’ through painted glass, for dignity," and the conclusion, "So many roads, so much at stake, so many dead ends, I’m at the edge of the lake. Sometimes I wonder what it’s gonna take to find dignity." Bob's not trying to make you feel better.

5. Visions Of Johanna (1960's) One of his longest and most complicated songs, but one of his most rewarding. I don't know what it's all about, but some of the lines are stunning and the cumulative emotional impact is immeasurable. This song has so many quotable lines it should be illegal. Here's how it opens, "Ain’t it just like the night to play tricks when you’re tryin' to be so quiet? We sit here stranded, though we’re all doin’ our best to deny it. And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin’ you to defy it." And my favorite, "Inside the museums, infinity goes up on trial. Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while." Think about that for a while.

4. Ring Them Bells (1980's) - Perhaps the best of his many incredible apocalyptic songs. Jesus wept, Bob weeps, we all weep for a lost cause. Every line is a good one, here's a taste: " Ring them bells St. Peter where the four winds blow. Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know. Oh it’s rush hour now on the wheel and the plow and the sun is going down upon the sacred cow."

3. Not Dark Yet (1990's) - "It's not dark yet, but it's getting there." Not the most hopeful of sentiments, but so true in so many ways when you consider popular culture or some facet of your own life. Ultimately, it carries the story of our mortality. As powerful as anything he wrote thirty-five years earlier.

2. Desolation Row (1960's) - I always come back to this hodge-podge of characters and jumbled words when I need to find the missing key. It's sum is greater than its parts. Yes, I've spent some time on Desolation Row, haven't you? Great lines: "And though her eyes are fixed upon Noah’s great rainbow,
She spends her time peeking Into Desolation Row."

1. Like A Rolling Stone (1960's) - I thought I would rank this one lower because I don't get to it that often, having heard it so many times, but it is just to stunning, especially when you put it in the context of the silly rock songs that came before it. Besides, who hasn't felt "like a complete unknown?"

So, there you go. Not a definitive list for anyone else, but mine for the moment. Tomorrow it could be an entirely different story. There's a Bob Dylan song for every situation, need and emotion. But that's what I'll talk about in the next post. Happy Birthday Eve, Bob.