Donna Tessitore wrote this article.On April 7th, Bob Dylan won a Pulitzer Prize, the first rock and roll artist to receive this coveted award.
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Somewhere along my journey, I've had a disconnect with Dylan, the man who moved a generation and secured a rock solid spot in the history of music.
I get Woodie Guthrie, Chuck Berry, Joan Baez, Elvis, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and a slew of highly underrated musical artists. It would take too long for me to explain why I connect with these various musicians and not Bob Dylan.
In a few sentences, these aforementioned performers and their songs move me, capture my imagination, and take me to amazing places. I want to be transported with them wherever they are going.
Sorry, Mr. Dylan. I'm not going anywhere with you!
I don't seek to dislike Bob Dylan. He has spoken and continues to speak for many people. He just hasn't spoken to me, personally.
Perhaps it's my sporadic, poorly-timed history with Bob Dylan that has much to do with my perception:
My first exposure to Bob Dylan occurred when I was a young lass. I can't recall the exact age.
I heard Lay, Lady, Lay sitting in the back of my father's VW Fastback. I thought to myself, "God, please don't let any man ever sing that song to me!" That song made my skin crawl. It still does.
I have no way of explaining the queasy feeling that comes over me when that song hits the airwaves.
My next brush with Dylan -- like so many people -- was through Blowin' in the Wind. I discovered this song rather late. I was around fourteen, and this was a fairly simple ditty to sing and play on guitar.
I admit that Dylan almost had me at hello with those strong interrogative verses. However, he lost me at the flimsy chorus. Great questions, Mr. Dylan. Lousy answer!
Yet Blowin' in the Wind remains a classic song and has been covered by dozens of musical artists. Folks are still playing this song.
I'm just not sure anybody's listening!
The next time I ran into Dylan was around 1980 when he won a Grammy for Gotta Serve Somebody. At seventeen, I was not interested in serving anyone.
The spooky voice of Bob Dylan was not going to change that!
Now as a social worker, wife, and mother, I'm serving a whole lot of people. I just don't want to be reminded of that!
I had another unexpected encounter with Dylan during my first year at college. I was assigned a project about the sixties for an art history class. Of course, Dylan's name came up in my research of the period.
So I immediately went to the public library and checked out the only record of his left in the stacks. I brought the record home and excitedly placed it on the turntable. I listened to a live version of Maggie's Farm through loud, clunky speakers. I was baffled as Dylan sang, We're going to Maggie's Farm over and over again.
It was neither profound nor poetic.
Since I do pride myself on being an open-minded lady, I was still willing to give Dylan a shot decades later.
I bought his Modern Times CD last year right around the time he won a Grammy for it.
I listened to the opening song, Thunder Road. That song sounded so much like Chuck Berry's Johnny B. Goode that it tainted the entire experience for me. I also found the mention of R & B songstress Alicia Keys in the lyrics to that song -- a reference that everyone was talking about -- not at all interesting and quite transparent.
I nonetheless moved onto the next song on the CD and experienced deja vu once again.
It has taken me over a year to figure this one out. With a faster tempo, Spirit on the Water sounds like Santa Baby. I can almost hear Eartha Kitt singing Dylan's song.
Strange, I know!
In brief, I was not impressed with Modern Times and found the music familiar, repetitive, and undeserving of all the praise.
Still, I like that Bob Dylan is keeping busy. He's a senior citizen, a grandfather, and on a continuous world tour.
The AARP should give him something for that!
I admit that I am likely unprepared for the onslaught of folks who take in the word of Bob Dylan much like it is manna from heaven, and who will likely come to his defense.
I can only say that I have dabbled here and there with Dylan. I've sought out and sampled the so-called masterpieces. I've seen the interviews and documentaries.
Nothing about him or his music makes me long for more.
I do, however, enjoy a good biography.
Dylan's memoir is touted as poetic and one of the best in its genre. So I finally snagged a hard copy of Chronicles: Volume I at my local used bookstore for eight dollars.
Dylan does a fantastic job of throwing out names and places in his chronicles, but poetry never entered my mind.
When Chronicles: Volume II comes out, I will pull out my torn and tattered Pocket Book of Modern Verse and remind myself who the great poets really are: Dickinson, Rossetti, Whitman, Cummings, and Frost to name but a few.
To borrow a line from the wonderful singer-songwriter, Carly Simon: I haven't got time for the pain. That is, I haven't got time for the pain of listening to Bob Dylan and all the hype that surrounds him.
Now Carly Simon. There's a girl who's all about the poetry.
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