Blowing in the Wind

 
How many roads must a man walk down before they call him a man? Well, quite frankly who gives a damn? Bob Dylan got a lot of mileage out of asking impossible questions, which upon reflection don't really matter. It seems a cliché but American society, and by extension, the English speaking community at large recognises success to such an extent that unless one attains that success which is uniquely one's own, you are as they say, a nobody. Calling someone a nobody effectively nullifies the validity of a life. This is probably more a reflection on the moral qualities of the person doing the calling rather than the person being called. e e cumming's poem "anyone lived in a pretty how town" deals with this riddle of identity in the only way possible - by stretching the conventions of language itself. There are really no other roads to walk down except one's own and at one's own speed. One should take a good look around. We are not necessarily pushed by some dark mysterious force as Dylan wants us to believe in the song "Like a Rolling Stone" - unless - one is bedevilled by unfriendly inner demons.

In life, it appears that Bob Dylan has a great affection for popular music. His recent "Theme Time Radio Hour" series reveals a man with an encyclopedic knowledge of American musical styles. He confesses in the documentary "No Direction Home" that he was a 'musical expeditionary' who felt this was excuse enough to borrow rare records from his friends never to return them, until in one case he was threatened with a baseball bat! Now that's dedication. He also admits to having been a college drop-out. Instead of attending classes, he practised the guitar and singing. Early on he interpreted Woody Guthrie songs. In what he wanted to learn he was an assiduous student. He then wound his way around to the thriving New York folk music scene. He came, saw and conquered Tin Pan Alley.

David Van Ronk was a significant figure there at the time, a great unacknowledged influence to many with his laconic style, searching for meaning at the edge of his rustic vocal tone, singing from his inner depths. He even forgave Bob Dylan the temerity of flogging his rearrangement of "The House of Rising Sun" and putting it on his first album, before asking if that would be all right. By the time Van Ronk said no, the discs were already being cut. Who knows whether anything was strictly copyrighted in those days? Anyway it was a traditional song, apparently about a woman lamenting her fate in prison, that Woody Guthrie had performed in his usual straightforward style. Van Ronk added a new funk but, fate being such, the song ended up as a trademark tune for Eric Burden and the Animals who made the blues even more acrid. It became a sensational hit.

Some people have told me that they don't like Dylan songs because they can't stand his voice. No artist can please everyone. Perhaps if he had appeared later, say after the Beatles, his impact may not have been as great. Van Ronk knew that he'd missed an opportunity. Whatever energy there was in the New York scene, it was limited to a cult audience. No one had thought that there might be a 'market' for it. Dylan thought otherwise and met with the Columbia Records executives. His songs and his style were sought after like bread and water. Word got around that there was a new message. That message was complex but only the slogans got through. Dylan seemed to be telling everyone to leave the herd to find the individual. In reality conformism was merely rechanneled. He became a millionaire. People just couldn't get enough of the hope and the glory. Joan Baez mistakenly thought that Dylan was the new messiah. Dazzled by his wit she seemed to forget how she had once sung so sweetly for whom she called 'Saviour'. Later on when she became confused about the difference between art and politics, she couldn't work out why Dylan wouldn't take her by the hand all the way to the White House. It has been suggested that she put it down to laziness on Dylan's part. Perhaps she never considered the possibility that Dylan was only too aware of the limits of a poet's power. Poetry must be parsed to get the meaning in the way the single reader wants. Poetry is not a political tool. It is perforce anarchic. One day someone might agree that "Just Like a Woman" is a study of the feminine singing style and that the answers are really blowing in the wind.