Thursday, August 2, 2007

First, Dylan is a rocker...

…then everything else.
The world’s best worst voice.
…no one says it better, and as for that electric guitar he can’t play? I tell you, between that rare jewel and his magnificent once-in-mankind’s-existence voice, little musically is left to be desired; toss in that instantly recognizable harmonica coupled with the bittersweet, profound and sad/funny/true lyrics and his multi-talented musical sidekicks for the last nearly 40 years and you have arguably the single biggest musical phenomenon in history, The Beatles notwithstanding, and, ah, o…I should tell you…I’m getting drunk; no particular reason comes to mind to do so, but – it’s the mammal thing…
Dylan has played for everybody, Popes, Kings, Queens, Presidents, even me, Jill, Jeff & Ann, and everybody who is anybody has played for Dylan. Because of aforementioned JJ & A, not to mention T-Bone Wolk and Nick Branch, I once had the extraordinary privilege of being back stage with the Bob Dylan Band and met every member of it but one…the closest I got to Bob was 30 feet. Baron, his personal bodyguard, was there to see the hoi-polloi didn’t get too close. Hey, who wants to fight a 3rd generation kick-boxing karate teacher?
…did I mention I was drinking…o yes I see I did…well anyway…
In another life ‘Blood On The Tracks’ was playing when X jammed the pistol in my stomach and pulled the trigger for Cris’sakes on an empty chamber and I nearly threw up but somehow I managed to say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about…’ which was true and he believed me, at least that time and then…well…later, THAT happened…lemme decap another brew here, hold on…(Dylan discography sponsored/fueled by Guinness/Kahlua & faulty memory, with embellishments…)

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