65 Revisited

This film is a bonus disc of outtakes from D.A. Pennebaker's classic film Don't Look Back. I have had two different editions of the film for a couple of years (including the deluxe set pictured below) but have only just gotten around to watching this bonus disc. It is very similar in style to Don't Look Back with its black and white cinema verite style. The camera can actually be heard whirring and clicking through much of this footage. This is a great little slice of life recording Dylan's 1965 tour of England just before the 1966 world tour that saw him shock the folk purists by plugging in and rocking out with the Hawks. It is more than a collection of disconnected outtakes but a film in its own right. Think of it as another witnesses version of the same events. It was actually released in cinemas in 2007. Bob is charmingly friendly to his fans which is in stark contrast to his withering contempt and merciless sending up of journalists. In one scene he is standing around with a few spotty teenagers who are clearly overawed to be with their idol. After a little small talk, a long awkward pause is broken by an embarrased fan blurting out, "I dunno wot to say." Bob replies in all sincerity, "Neither do I." If you have never imagjned Bob Dylan in a suit and tie you need to see the scene in this film where he buys himself a new suit coat and gets very enthusiastic about the pink tie he chooses to go with it. (How can Dylan still be the coolest man on the planet 44 years later?)

There are some great musical moments. Unlike Don't Look Back, here you will get full length concert performances of classic songs such as It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) and To Ramona. There are also plenty of interesting moments tinkering around back stage including a piano-based It takes a Lot to Laugh (It Takes a Train to Cry). In one odd moment Bob can only remember the tune to Let Me Die in My Footsteps and cannot for the life of him remember the words, or even the title. It's hard to believe that he recorded this great song only about two years earlier and now it's only a vague memory. I guess it's a testament to just how prolific he was at the time and to his strangely cavalier attitude toward his own material, an attitude that has remaiend within him throughout his career. The film ends with an alternative version of the famous cue cards film clip of Subterranean Homesick Blues, on a rooftop instead of an alley, and with his record producer Tom Wilson standing in for Alan Ginsberg. This is a classic rock documentary not to be missed, but make sure you see Don't Look Back first.

Here's Bob buying that pink tie:



If you liked this entry you might also enjoy some of my other Dylan posts. Dylan in Melbourne 1966, Don't Look Back, Dylan in Melbourne (2007)

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Dylan in Melbourne

I enjoyed my seventh Dylan concert on Sunday night. Tragic, I know. Dylan is known to play the occasional bad show but I can honestly say I've never been disappointed and Sunday was no exception. The Frames were a good support act, and obviously chuffed to be invited to tour with his Bobness. I can only describe them as a kind of Irish Wilco (who by the way I saw with the Boy Wonder at the Palais earlier this year but never got around to reviewing. Suffice to say it was a brilliant show). I thought it was very cool they way the Frames wove a Van Morrison lyric into one of their original songs. They played only four or five songs. We were here, after all, to hear Bob and no support act is ever asked to give an encore.

Bob took the stage in his usual black with a broad brimmed cowboy hat which he never took off looking for all the world like a gunfighter from a B grade western totin' a guitar instead of a gun. The band kicked into a ragged version of "Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat," a little out of tune and pretty loosey goosey. They seemed to take a few numbers to really tighten up, and were at their best on the new songs from Modern Times. When they were good they were very, very good, with moments of real rock 'n roll brilliance. Dylan played three numbers on guitar and then stood at the keyboard / Hammond organ thingy for "Just Like A Woman" and stayed there for the duration. This annoyed me at the Melbourne International Music Festival a few years back but this time it seemed right. After all, Bob started on piano in his high school band playing Bobby Vee and Buddy Holly covers, and plays piano on piano based songs sprinkled here and there over the whole body of his work. Anyway, even behind the keyboard he still has the rock 'n roll gunslinger moves.

I can undertand why some people, just don't "get" Dylan and leave one of his concerts scratching their heads or even feeling ripped off. If they don't know his body of work well, they are certainly not going to understand the words he growls, spits out, grunts, and distorts with his strange vocal gymnastics, even when his voice is WAY up at the top of the sound mix as it was last night. And then he has that strange way of leaving it to the very last part of the measure before throwing in all the lyrics all at once without a moment to spare. A teenager behind me during the demand for an encore called, out "Play a Bob Dylan song!" Apparently he hadn't recognised any of the songs in the set, even though it contained such Dylan standards as "Just Like a Woman," "Don't Think Twice It's Alright," and "Highway 61 Revisited." (For those who want the complete set list click here.) In a way this is a real tragedy because it means that people miss out on moments of genuine lyrical brilliance. In "Spirit on the Water," the frailty and elusiveness of love is expressed so well in the lines, "I'm pale as a ghost holding a blossom on a stem. You ever seen a ghost? No. But you have heard of them." Whether he's frowning on those who are "sucking the blood out of the genius of generosity" or bragging about himself having "sucked the milk out of a thousand cows," this is poetry not be missed.

I guess it is this familiarity with Dylan's work that gives fans at his concerts (no doubt the vast majority in attendance alongside of those in the minority who may simply be there to "check out the legend") a certain satisfaction in their esoteric knowledge. In "Spirit on the Water" when Bob sang, "Ya think I'm over the hill," the crowd yelled back, "Nooooo!". Then, "think I'm past my prime," and again, "Nooooo!" Finally, "Let me see what you got / we can have a whoppin' good time." Crowd: "Yeeaaahhh!!" Priceless. They knew those words were coming and they were ready for them.

The highlight for me was "I Believe in You" from his Gospel album Slow Train Coming, the last song at the end of the set before the encore, and sung with so much passion. It's the song of a loner who stands apart, or is ejected, from the crowd because of his personal faith in Jesus. He ended the song in an interesting way, repeating the opening lines of the verse, "they ask me how I feel and if my love is real"...and then it just ended abruptly, the final word being spat out with what sounded like venom and disgust. "How dare they ask if my love for God is 'real'!" I'm probably reading too much into it but I couldn't help but think of the Christians who need Dylan's faith to fit into a conventional mould they can approve.

Then there was a long, long wait before the two-song encore. At the end, a touching moment when the lights came back up and the band were all huddled in the centre free of their instruments, Bob at the front, as they received a standing ovation from the capacity crowd. Bob reciprocated with a single hand uprised in salute, then both arms upraised as he basked in the glow of adoration for a second or two then they turned and walked off, Bob 66 yrs. old, frail, skinny, and somehow vulnerable but a giant and a legend still.















Dylan fashion watch: Bob wore this hat at the Melbourne concert but with a black coat.

Here's a live TV performance of "Cry Awhile" from about 5 years back. This song wasn't performed at the concert but it still gives a bit of a taste of what Bob is like live.

Don't Look Back

Here's Bob Dylan behaving very badly indeed at a press conference. From the cinema verite classic Don't Look Back (1967), D. A. Pennebaker's take on the 1965 tour of England. Spare a thought for the poor bloke trying to do the interview! Megan may wish to differ from Dylan's opinion of himself as a singer, stated about 20 seconds from the close of the interview.

If you enjoyed this post you might also like Thunder On the Mountain, Bob Dylan in Melbourne 1966, The Concert for Bangladesh, The Magic of the Black Disc, and iPod Therefore I Am.

Thunder on the Mountain

Here's Dylan's great new video of the opening song from Modern Times. There's no new footage here but it's a great montage of video from across most of his career. Enjoy! That means you too Megan!

The Concert for Bangladesh

On Sunday afternoon I sat down and watched the 1971 "Concert for Bangladesh" on DVD. Afterwards I wrote this review for the Bigpond movies site.

This a wonderful slice of rock history with some really fine performances. The band is tight and George Harrison's gentle presence anchors the band as it stages a free concert to raise money for famine-stricken Bangladesh. And what a band! Ringo Starr AND Jim Keltner on drums, Eric Clapton on guitar, Leon Russell and Billy Preston on keyboards. Preston's performance of "That's the Way God Planned It" is an absolute revelation as his gospel roots take hold of him and he starts to shimmy and strutt across the stage like a pentecostal holy roller. It's great to hear Harrison perform Beatles tunes of his own composition such as "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," "Something," and "Here Comes the Sun" as well as his classic solo numbers such as "My Sweet Lord." Bob Dylan comes on at the end for a four-song set including "A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall," "Blowin' in the Wind" and "Just Like a Woman." He's in fine form in his denim jacket and his 1971 "country Bob" vocal stylings. I even enjoyed Ravi Shankar's Indian music set (though admittedly I skipped it at first and then went back after I'd viewed the rest of the concert). If you're old enough to remember the cinema release of the concert this will be a nostalgia trip for you. If not, here's a chance to get educated on the first ever "Make Poverty History" style benefit concert.

The Magic of the Black Disc

A friend emailed me recently and said that he had just purchased Bob Dylan's Planet Waves. It just so happened that I had been listening to a track from it that morning on my iPod ("Tough Mama"). I told him how those lines "Dark beauty / with a long night's journey in your eyes" and "with the badge of the lonesome road written on your sleeve" get me every time, and the way he sings them! There's something visceral about Bob's songs. In some kind of sub-rational way they just hit ya where ya live! My friend is doing Masters work in multi-modal therapy at the moment, liked my use of "visceral" and told me how his studies were moving him away from "the rational only [not irrational]...to a total experiencing...visceral is a good word...so descriptive....so...visceral...I havent got into ipods and probably wont....love my cd collection too much...love the fussing around with the cd's and ancient cd technology...so visceral." Well the use of an iPod hasn't superceded my use of and love for CDs. (Man, I still use vinyl!) Both CDs and vinyl records are objects of beauty in themselves and things I could never replace in my life. It's just that the iPod gives me portability and I love the shuffle function which keeps me guessing about what's coming up next. I've come to the realization that I love these objects because they are magic. When as a child I took a solid black vinyl disc and placed it on a spinning turntable, music came out of it for no reason that I could explain. I didn't understand or need or want to understand the technology behind the magic. The wonder of the music carried its own explanation. The CD revolution gave me the same experience without lessening my love for the magic of the black disc. Ditto for the iPod and the CD.

iPod Therefore I Am

Apologies to Dylan Jones for the use of his inspired book title. What has been on my iTunes list this past year and (at least since October) on my iPod shuffle?

Wilco's A Ghost is Born continues to convince me of Jeff Tweedy's genius. Though the most experimental of Wilco's albums to date this album is still brimful of startlingly good melodic hooks and inspired instrumentation. It's just that none of it follows a standard song format. (No verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus, close here). "I'm A Wheel" has incredible drive and for some reason reminds me of trips to the Speedway at the Sydney showgrounds when I was a kid. Something to do with the sheer rock and roll energy of the thing. Anyone with enough audacity to rhyme "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9" with "one time someone in Germany said 'Nein!'" and pull it off as though it makes some kind of sense has to have something going for him. In "Theologians," Tweedy sings, "Theologians, they don't know nothin' 'bout my soul." This has a tendency to put one in one's place. Then again, he goes on to sing, "I'm an ocean of emotion / I'm a cherry ghost,' so maybe theologians could tell Tweedy a thing or two.

It's good news that there is now finally an ITunes Australia store. However, for Dylan fans it's a big disappointment as there's virtually no Dylan to be had. One little gem I did discover was Dylan's cover of Jason Wade's "You Belong To Me" from the Natural Born Killers soundtrack. The vocal style and instrumentation sounds like Dylan's World Gone Wrong and Good As I Been To You but the song itself is better than most of the songs to be had on those mediocre outings. Also Dylan's cover of "I Can't Get You Off Of My Mind" from the Hank Williams tribute album Timeless is a wonderful little slice of rockabilly.

I found a CD single in an OP Shop of Tom Waits' "Make It Rain" from the 2004 album Real Gone. It's a tortured prayer from a broken heart, a desperate cry to the heavens.

I want to believe
In the mercy of the world again
Make it rain, make it rain!

I'm not Able, I'm just Cain
Open up the heavens
Make it rain!

I'm close to heaven
Crushed at the gate
They sharpen their knives
On my mistakes

What she done, you can't give it a name
You gotta make it rain
Make it rain, yeah!

The portrait of Waits shown here is from Heidi Baracks' Red Series You can read an interesting review of this album by Zeth Lundy on Pop Matters.

The Diary of Alicia Keys has confirmed Alicia's status as the new Aretha Franklin. Revisiting Joni Mitchell's Blue after a 20 year absence has been a revelation. Gillian Welch has still not topped Time the Revelator. Two albums from Frank Sinatra (In the Wee Small Hours and Songs for Swingin' Lovers) have helped me "get" what Time magazine meant by announcing him the entertainer of the century. Johnny Cash's American IV The Man Comes Around, including his version of Trent Reznor's "Hurt" was a magnificent swansong album for "Johnny of the Cross." Next blog entry: Best films of 2005.

Bob Dylan in Melbourne 1966

I received Martin Scorsese's Bob Dylan film No Direction Home as a birthday gift back in October. It chronicles Dylan's remarkable career up until the world tour in 1966. A few years ago I presented a paper at Deakin University's Go! Melbourne in the 60s Conference entitled "Antipodean Apocalpytic: Bob Dylan in Melbourne 1966." This resulted in an invitation to present the paper again, this time to a pub crowd at the Cornish Arms in Brunswick (at the Dylan tribute night Bob's Birthday Bash) as well as to perform a few songs with my friend Clive Doak (Jokerman, Blind Wille MacTell, She Belongs to Me and another one I can't remember). It was great to read the paper under a single spotlight to such an appreciative crowd. Here are a few excerpts from the paper:

'In 1966, Robert Menzies resigned, Harold Holt instituted conscription for the Vietnam War effort, and assured the American President that Australia would "go all the way with LBJ," Australia switched to decimal currency, the White Australia policy was abandoned, 6 o'clock closing was extended to 10pm, and Bob Dylan toured Donald Horne's "luck country" on an amphetamine-driven wave of success. The press didn't quite know what to make of him (he wasn't a cute mop-top Beatle like the last rock icons to tour). The cultural wasteland of Australia in the 60s was brought face to face with a singer who broke all the rules of vocal delivery, looked like he was from some other planet, and wrote stream-of-consciousness lines such as "jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule," and "praise be to Nero's Neptune; the Titanic sails at dawn." This was apocalytic discourse, revelatory messages mediated from a seemingly otherworldly being to startled recipients. Like all apocalyptic discourse it was "disclosing a transcendent reality...both temporal, insofar as it envisage[d] eschatological salvation, and spatial insofar as it involve[d] another, supernatural world." (J. J. Collins, "Apocalypse: The Morphology of a Genre," Semeia 14 [1979], p. 9.) . Apocalypse had come to the antipodes.'

'In 1966, Dylan was performing "poetry you could dance to," a formula for "reinventing music" that Dylan and Richard Farina had first talked about with Eric von Schmidt on the beach at Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1961 (David Hadju, Positively Fourth Street [London Bloomsbury, 2001], p. 158) . Bob Geldof remembers seeing Dylan perform in Dublin in 1964. "Dylan had scooped the whole of American folk music (folk, blues, country) and married it to the Psalms, the poets, the Old Testament, and hurled it at my head, articulating the inchoate urge I was feeling. Bob moved my head. Mick and Keith [of the Rolling Stones] my hips." (Bob Geldof, "Turn the Bleedin' Noise Down Bobbo!" in Uncut [June 2002], p. 46)

'The English word "apocalpyse" comes from the Greek New Testament word meaning "a revealing" or an "uncovering." It has since developed the additional meaning of the catastrophic end of the world as we know it. Dylan was involved in both. He was blowing the lid off a world that wasn't ready for him, uncovering more than people were often wiling to see. Rock music was meant to be all about sex, violence and teenage angst. Now it had pretensions to art. He had "grown up pop" and "given it brains." (Nik Cohn, Awopbopaloobop Alopbamboom: Pop from the Beginning [London: Minerva, 1996 reprint of 1969 original], p. 168). The old world of tin-pan alley and "I wanna hold your hand," had to give way to the new world, and none of us would ever be quite the same again. '

'During Bob's mysterious hiatus [after his motorcycle accident at the end of the '66 word tour] the Beatles released Sergeant Pepper, and the whole hippy-trippy, flower power phenomenon reached its height. With baited breath the public waited for what psychedelic offering the "Great White Wonder" would produce as the follow up to the "thin, mercury sound" of Blonde on Blonde. When John Wesley Harding was finally released, in 1967, it was not what anyone had expected. Gone was the frenetic rock of the 1966 tour that a Manchester fan had described as "an apocalyptic roar like a squadron of B52s in a cathedral...wicked, crackling guitar over a vortex of sheer noise." (Mojo [Nov. 1998]: 60), p. 61) Now, sparse acoustic backings underlay an album of mystic Americana, that carried a gentle, reflective country feel, only thinly masking the continuing apocalyptic. "Even with its overtones of Nashville, hoedown and Grand Ole Opry, it was grim." [Cohn, 169) Though apocalyptic literature is meant to reveal, it also hides, behind cryptic symbols understood only to the initiated. In The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest, the gambler Frankie Lee dies of thirst, in the arms of his friend Judas Priest, after sixteen days and nights foaming at the mouth in a multi-storied whorehouse. An anonymous little neighbour boy, perhaps Dylan himself, looks on and records the whole saga, yet hiding behind the cryptic imagery so that ultimately, as in the final words of the song "nothing is revealed."

'Dylan's much publicised conversion to Christianity in 1979 did not see him take an entirely new approach to his art, though it was a personal renewal. The entire body of his work has been preachy, finger-pointing, biblical, and scathingly prophetic, in the best tradition of the Hebrew Bible and of the New Testament. (See Michael J. Gilmour, "They Refused Jesus Too: A Biblical Paradigm in the Writings of Bob Dylan," Journal of Religion and Popular Culture (vol. 1, Spring 2002), www.usack.ca/relst/jrpc/article-dylan.html). The drugs, thankfully, would go, the excesses would reced, the jangling pace and the fury of 1966 would fadse, but the voice of the little Jewish neighbour boy still croaks at us. '

'For a little while, in the Australian Spring of 1966, Dylan gave Melbourne a glimpse of the apocalypse. Amazingly, he has survived. Now an old blues singer, on his latest album, Love and Theft, his ancient voice warns us, that he is still, like a black crow in a pulpit, preaching the Word of God to us and putting out our eyes."

Keep preaching Bob!