Sunday, May 2, 2010

The Albums of Bob Dylan, Part Two

By Russell Shortt

If that is the case, it is all the more impressive, how could somebody maintain such a dedicated following since 1962, without having major talent, simple answer, they couldn't. Criticising Dylan as simplistic, is maddeningly myopic, Dylan is an icon, in the proper meaning of the term, he is America, as Cadillac is, as Fitzgerald's Gatsby is, as Bellow's Augie March is, as Sinatra is, as Jimmy Dean is, as John Wayne is, as Coca-Cola is, as the Hollywood sign is, as Kentucky Fried Chicken is, as Wendy's is, as Tarantino is, as Wall-Mart is; the point is like him or loathe him, he defines America.

The thing is, Dylan himself would probably side with the dissenters. Admittingly, he contrived his past, moulding some type of Twain like upbringing, a wandering Tom Joad, but it created his future, to live that desired future, he required such a base.

Remarkably, Dylan's life became what he really wanted, he did in fact change his past, he became the backwoodsman, the seer of the dustbowl, the compelling enigma, the bard of shrouded Lost America. He trudged out to the near asylum that Woody Guthrie was unfairly housed in, taking the breath of the wandering soul, the prince at the ailing King's bedside, being granted the keys of the kingdom (which he shirked, bizarrely the gatekeeper of a babysitter preventing him) but he caught the most important thing - the link - the link was his.

After signing his first song publishing contract with Lou Levy, he had his celebratory meal in Jack Dempsey's restaurant, shooting the breeze with the Champ. Again a link, Dempsey first won the World Heavyweight Title in 1919, his parents had smudges of Choctaw and Cherokee in them.

Russell Shortt is a travel consultant with Exploring Ireland, the leading specialists in customised, private escorted tours, escorted coach tours and independent self drive tours of Ireland. Article source Russell Shortt,

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