Saturday, October 22, 2011

Bob Dylan's Dream

About two months ago I got a new (used) car, and it has temporarily changed my lifestyle. The reason being is that it does not have a CD player so that I have been listening to the radio. It's probably a good cultural experience, listening to what people are talking about, and to the music that is airing these days after ten years of audio books.

One thing I noticed the other day while listening to a music station, there aren't a lot of song writers with the lyrical pen Dylan brought to the music scene five decades ago. That's probably harsh, but one song during yesterday's morning commute just made me cringe with its predictability and lack of originality. The song's only real value was the offering up of a simple tune with modern high-tech production values. It was sung by a guy whose name people know, and he's probably made money singing so he's happy. But what a yawner compared to the depth and melancholy connection that a Dylan transfusion offers.

This example may appear simple, but there is more to the song as it unfolds, and the endgame is a real payoff.

Bob Dylan's Dream

While riding on a train goin’ west
I fell asleep for to take my rest
I dreamed a dream that made me sad
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had

With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon
Where we together weathered many a storm
Laughin’ and singin’ till the early hours of the morn

By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung
Our words were told, our songs were sung
Where we longed for nothin’ and were quite satisfied
Talkin’ and a-jokin’ about the world outside

With haunted hearts through the heat and cold
We never thought we could ever get old
We thought we could sit forever in fun
But our chances really was a million to one

As easy it was to tell black from white
It was all that easy to tell wrong from right
And our choices were few and the thought never hit
That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split

How many a year has passed and gone
And many a gamble has been lost and won
And many a road taken by many a friend
And each one I’ve never seen again

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
That we could sit simply in that room again
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat
I’d give it all gladly if our lives could be like that

Copyright © 1963, 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1991, 1992 by Special Rider Music

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

couldn't agree more. Dylan's music put words to the melancholy and general malaise i feel from time to time. the man's early work is sublime.