Friday, December 23, 2022

Excerpt Dylan Tells Wall St Journal

Excerpt Dylan Tells Wall St Journal - I first heard most of the songs in my book: on the radio, portable record players, jukeboxes. The songs were simple, easy to understand. They’d come to you directly, let you see into the future.

I recently binged: “Coronation Street,” “Father Brown,” and some early “Twilight Zones.” I know they’re old-fashioned, but they make me feel at home. I’m no fan of packaged programs or news shows. I never watch anything foul-smelling or evil. Nothing disgusting, nothing dog ass.
When you hear a great song: you get a gut reaction and an emotional one. It follows the logic of the heart and stays in your head long after you’ve heard it. You don’t have to be a great singer to sing it. It’s bell, book and candle. It touches you in secret places, strikes your innermost being.
I do love the sound of old vinyl, especially on a tube record player from back in the day. I bought three in an antique store in Oregon about 30 years ago. The tone quality is so powerful and miraculous, has so much depth. It always takes me back to the days when life was different and unpredictable.
Lockdown was: a very surrealistic time. Like being visited by another planet or by some mythical monster. But it was beneficial, too. It eliminated a lot of hassles and personal needs; it was good having no clock. I changed the door panels on an old ’56 Chevy, made some landscape paintings, wrote a song called “You Don’t Say.” I listened to Peggy Lee records. I reread “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” a few times over. What a story that is! I listened to The Mothers of Invention record “Freak Out!,” which I hadn’t heard in a long, long time. Frank Zappa was light years ahead of his time. If there’d been any opium laying around, I probably would have been down for a while.
Technology is like: sorcery. It’s a magic show, conjures up spirits, it is an extension of our body, like the wheel is an extension of our foot. But it might be the final nail driven into the coffin of civilization; we just don’t know.

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