I’m really fuckin’ rocking out here.

–

Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 00:29:54 -0800
From: Jarett Kobek
To: Arafat Kazi
Subject: Re: Dude Chinese Democracy

Dude, I am listening to it right now too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s really weirdly good, isn’t it?

–

Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 03:37:00 -0500
Subject: Re: Dude Chinese Democracy
From: Arafat Kazi
To: Jarett Kobek

Oh yes. It’s SO fucking good. It’s better than Use Your Illusion 1, as good as 2, and definitely better than Spaghetti Incident.

Did you get to check out any of the songs I sent you?

Also, I think “Shackler’s Revenge” is the only weak track in the album.

–

Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 00:49:35 -0800
From: Jarett Kobek
To: Arafat Kazi
Subject: Re: Dude Chinese Democracy

You know that I have issues with Use Your illusion 1/2– I don’t like either as an album. But for all the fan worship of Slash, the member that I’m missing is Izzy Stradlin. All the songs that I like from the Illusions were written by Izzy, and his imprint is pretty much what defines Appetite. Unlike you, I’m not addicted to Axl’s early ’90s vision, so I can’t stand 2. I would argue till I’m blue in the face that what Use Your Illusion represents, in retrospect, is Axl trying to get to the sound that he has found on Chinese Democracy. It’s more a transition point than a destination. Too bad it’s a shitty transition.

I agree though, Chinese Democracy is definitely better than either, but we’ve more or less known this for 7 years, when the tracks started being performed live– and how can you even talk about the Spaghetti Incident as a real album? Also, you know what I find sad? That “Oh My God” wasn’t included in some form or another. Fuck the haters, that’s an amazingly weird song. Kind of astounding it’s nine years old.

The question is: how do you feel Chinese Democracy compares to Appetite? I feel that they are totally incomparable, like apples and oranges.

–

Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 01:05:15 -0800
From: Jarett Kobek
To: Arafat Kazi
Subject: Re: Dude Chinese Democracy

Also, “Shackler’s Revenge” has grown on me. The only songs I can’t take are “Sorry” and “This I Love.” I’ll probably learn to like “Sorry” but I’ll never like “This I Love.”

–

Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 04:10:21 -0500
Subject: Re: Dude Chinese Democracy
From: Arafat Kazi
To: Jarett Kobek

Oh I agree with pretty much everything you say here. See, I always value shit that I liked when I was thirteen. I think that both Illusion 1 and 2 have songs that we both like, for whatever reason—”Get in the Ring,” “Back Off Bitch,” “Garden of Eden,” “Dust N Bones,” “Right Next Door to Hell,” “The Garden”—and that’s just the first album. (Also I really love the video for “November Rain” but I don’t think I have a legitimate reason for it except for legs at 13.) Looking at the tracklists on Wikipedia: “14 Years,” “Get in the Ring,” “Pretty Tied Up,” “Locomotive,” “You Could be Mine.” That’s not so bad. I like “Civil War” for the same reason I like Meatloaf, so I’ll keep this out of this list. But that’s still a lot of good songs.

But you’re right, Izzy was absolutely fucking essential. I also agree that Chinese Democracy seems to be the final destination that’s only half-reached on the Illusion albums, and both those albums are only good as containers for five or six good songs as opposed to working like an album like Appetite does, even now.

You’re also right in that I don’t think we can compare Chinese Democracy to Appetite. But dude, fucking hell, Appetite was the work of super-talented young dudes, but Chinese Democracy is the work of a man who knows sorrow and who has felt love and has also felt it slip away. I love this album so fucking much.

Also, they covered Soundgarden and Nazareth in Spaghetti Incident, hence saving grace. NOW YOU’RE MESSING WITH A SON OF A BITCH. Allah I was just thinking of that fucking song a week ago I fucking swear, too cool.

–

Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 04:13:15 -0500
Subject: Re: Dude Chinese Democracy
From: Arafat Kazi
To: Jarett Kobek

“This I Love” is what he sings to his wife after beating her. A low song, meant to show sorrow that was not felt. “Madagascar” is such a good song though. God, this album is so strangely worth it. I wonder what Axl will do now. Do you think he’ll be cool or an asshole? Also tell Elly I said happy birthday and sent love please. I will wish her on Facebook.

–

Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 02:37:25 -0800
From: Jarett Kobek
To: Arafat Kazi
Subject: Re: Dude Chinese Democracy

One of my problems with Use Your Illusion 1/2 has very little to do with anything that the guns n roses boys could control– basically, every major studio recording from about 1990 through 1995 sounds like absolute fucking shit. I don’t know what the technical reasons are for this, but the sound from that period is awful and inorganic. The other album I think about in these terms is Nirvana’s Nevermind, which has some fairly shitty song writing made a thousand times worse by disgusting, ugly production. In Utero is a little better, but not by much.

There’s something about the studio sound on Use Your Illusion which taints even the songs that I love– take “Pretty Tied Up,” as good a song as they ever did, and I say this not simply because I live down on Melrose. Had it been recorded during the sessions for Appetite, or even Lies, it would be classic, but as it stands, it sounds sort of “bleh.” There’s a dynamism missing from the material. I think this is why the albums have become such retroactive jokes that no one can explain– how do you describe a missing sound range, really?

Chinese Democracy works, in part, because it was clearly built as a response to this artificiality of sound– so rather than have it be an artefact of the recording process, Axl has fully embraced it. This distinguishes Chinese Democracy from other recent rock– a band like Fall Out Boy comes to mind– where there is an overarching pretense of a room full of proletariat morons playing in time, when the actuality is individual sessions, overdubs and Protools. By shedding the rest of GNR and making a solo project, Axl has, pardon the pun, lost any illusion of the album being a live recording. The effect is freeing himself from a sound which must emulate that of a live band. Chinese Democracy is a totally artificial, constructed product and is open about its nature.

In many ways, I’m echoing a point that Chuck Klosterman made in an Onion review: the album is better for the lack of Slash or Duff. Had those dudes been in the picture, there is no way this sound could have been achieved. This is also probably true of Izzy Stradlin, but I hate to admit it.

–

Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 14:44:58 -0800
From: Jarett Kobek
To: Arafat Kazi
Subject: Re: Dude Chinese Democracy

Also,

I think something should be said about the lyrics– I’ve read a few reviews suggesting that Axl is commenting on this and that, but no one has mentioned explicitly that these are the lyrics of a man who has spent about twenty years in constant therapy. There is a certain equivocation of feeling here– of trying to get to the root of why a person tells their self one thing and does another– and an acceptance of equal blame that I imagine can only be earned through couching surfing in the offices of therapists. Axl seems to have completely internalized the judgement-neutral vocabulary of the process. This is the best therapy album since Plastic Ono Band.

The only downside is that I have absolutely no idea what any of the songs are about, if one can speak to the meaning of songs in such concrete terms. But consider, oh, I dunno, “Mr. Brownstone.” I remember when you used to think that it was about an old man they liked to dance with– so did the Virginia Tech shooter, btw– but it was obviously about heroin. “Welcome to the Jungle,” “My Michelle”– each had a specific theme or subject. But what the hell is “Chinese Democracy” (the song) about? “Better”? “I.R.S.”? I couldn’t say.

My favorite example of Axl’s therapy speak is from “Shackler’s Revenge”:

“Don’t ever try to tell me how much you care for me
Don’t ever try to tell me how you were there for me”

This could be about anyone in particular– and I suspect it represents Axl attempting to express some of the primal anger associated with the G’N'F’N'R brand, but it’s been so filtered through the therapeutic process that it sounds more like someone in their 40s confronting their alcoholic parent about the role drink played in imbuing childhood inadequacy. This is remarkably different from the scum level lyrics of a dude who once sang, “You get nothin for nothin / if that’s what you do / turn around bitch / I got a use for you / and I’m bored.”

Just a thought, buddy!

Darcy Clay was the outsized alter ego unleashed on the music industry by 24-year-old unknown Daniel Robert Bolton, when he emerged from the bedroom of his Clarence St, Ponsonby flat having home-recorded the Great New Zealand Single.

Jesus I Was Evil - a raucous, playful and strikingly original ode to hedonism – was the strongest of a clutch of raw-boned songs he wrote and recorded on a four-track in late 1996. It got in your head like an earworm. It bulged with killer lines. “I used to crash parties and Maseratis and-uh / I was evil,” Clay howled. The maverick, transgressive spirit celebrated in the title helped win over many before they had even heard the opening power chords. “Just to write a song called Jesus I Was Evil is awesome,” says actor Joel Tobeck, who was drafted in as Clay’s guitarist for a couple of the few live shows he ever played…

…Then, on March 15, 1998… Clay’s girlfriend returned home from an exhibition in Christchurch and found him dead in her Grey Lynn flat. There was no note, no drugs found in his system. He was 25.

A nice overview of our man Darcy Clay’s brief, short career with previously unavailable biographical detail, plus some sad moments with Clay’s Pa. Like everything re: Clay, the article focuses on “Jesus I Was Evil,” the freak single, but I, for one, am a firm adherent of the other five tracks on Clay’s only studio release. (I write studio, but this is a misnomer– in this case, the studio was dude’s bedroom.)

Like countless other musical discoveries, I heard about Clay from the mouth of my old pal Andrew Harrison. This is dude’s radio show. This is the blog of dude’s show, which he never ever updates.

Monáe’s had a long Summer of being hyped by Diddy– many command performances hither and yon, a re-release of the aforementioned Metropolis Suite and now a new video for “Many Moons.”

The video is reasonably good but comes off a little sub-Kanye Glow in the Dark. Its major, tragic flaw is the one sin that Jesus called unforgivable: the use of quick-cuts and poor framing on an amazing dancer. There was, once, a Golden Age of dance on the silver screen, when cinematographers and DPs knew how to frame action. In those days, if by chance someone could dance then, by God, you would really see them dance.

Which is why amateur Youtube fixed-camera video of Monáe’s live performances is so infinitely preferable. Not to be missed, and wait till about the three minute mark:

–

A rough English translation is:

I will poot, I will poot
Once I poot, you will be destroyed
You will cook from beyond the grave

When I see a beautiful girl, my chest cries out with a Poot
My soul is taken over my an insane addictive daemon

I will poot, I will poot
Once I poot, you will be destroyed
I will reverse the hourglass of your life

I have eaten mangoes, berries, jackfruit, and lichees,
Every time I see a fruit I salivate

I will poot, I will poot
I will poot, I will poot.

There are two dominant cultural narratives of Danzig; the first is of the dumb rocker guy who sang “Mother,” a song that now resonates at sporting events coast-to-coast. The other, amongst those who care about such things, is that of the Punker Who Fell from Grace; the dude who wrote all of the Misfits’ music, invented at least two sub-genres and was the backbone of one of the most influential bands of the last 30 years (and now, given the prevalence of AFI and My Chemical Romance, might we not argue that Samhain has become as influential, if not more so, as the Misfits?) and then threw it all away to disappear in a haze of testosterone and strippers dressed like cats.

The curious thing is not the wrongness of these narratives. The curious thing is that they exist.

Pop quiz: name one American punk figure other than Henry Rollins who has immediate name recognition in the mass culture. A variation: name one post-1986 Metal Figure (and I do mean metal– no Axl, no Slash, no Marilyn) with an immediate brand recognition. Another pop quiz: when was the last time that you were able to leave the god damned house without seeing the Crimson Ghost on someone’s chest? Now, contrast and compare: how often do you see the Dead Kennedys logo, arguably the second most iconic image of American punk? Final question: how many people maintain a career in music for three years, let alone thirty?

These rhetorical questions hint at what has been a slowly dawning idea: that Danzig is best understood as a unique figure in American culture, with a remarkable persistence of musical prescence, and that, furthermore, his impact as a graphic designer and visual artist has been both considerable and virtually ignored. And it’s important, too, to realize that unlike Rollins (from the punk world) or even Ozzy (from the Grog Hall of Darkest Metal) Danzig’s recognition was achieved without ever transcending the various musical ghettos in which he dwells. There have been no spoken word tours and no shows on MTV or IFC.

The work itself (by which I mean: 85% of the Misfits catalog, Samhain and Danzig 1, 2, half of 3, 4p, Circle of Snakes and much of Lost Tracks) presents a surface level difficulty– the persistence of vision has revolved around a relatively simplistic musical approach (how many times can one man rewrite “Twist of Cain” and how many Misfits songs are reducible to Whoa-Oh-Whoah-Oh-Oh?) with an exceptionally thin lyrical palette. Put it this way: there are roughly 250 songs in total and 98% of them are about skulls, fire, demons, death and wicked, anthropomorphic she-beasts. Danzig’s easily dismissed personal appearance and choices only complicate matters. The dude who wrote “Attitude” was always going to be his own worst enemy, but something about the move to Los Angeles bloated his ego, and the New York/New Jersey visual edge of the Misfits/Samhain period became this:

In short: the man went Hollywood, and going Hollywood has always meant too much money.

The Misfits and Samhain were homegrown affairs, with Danzig designing the materials himself and never having the cash to afford a video, let alone one with a reasonably sized production budget. And thank God for that kindness, as we’ve seen exactly what we would have gotten: four dudes in black jeans invading Jumbo’s Clown Room and a red-headed ass show intercut with tight close-ups of Danzig’s own undulating face. (Note that he bears a odd resemblance to Paul Giamatti sporting the same haircut as one of my ex-girlfriends on her MySpace profile in 2006.)

By contrast, here are a few of the Misfits/Samhain fliers:

The last image– from the Die, Die, My Darling EP– is a less famous example of Danzig’s approach from the New York days, which revolved around a near-obsessive sampling of pulp media. The song is titled after the US release of a 1965 Hammer film; the band’s name comes from Monroe’s last film, and the EP features the best known Misfits logo– the letters of which were taken from Forest Ackerman’s Famous Monsters of Filmland. The central image of the cover was copied from Harvey Comics’ Chamber of Chills #19, which bears the not insignificant copy: “Here’s Looking at You Darling… On Our Happy Anniversary!”

Many will disagree, but I find no enormous disparity between the sound of the Misfits period and the early Danzig albums; there’s a certain amount of growth and slowing down, and The Voice becomes hugely apparent, but lyrically and musically the sound is not particularly changed. (Samhain is often considered the bridge between the two, but the issue of where Samhain ended and Danzig began is a non-starter. The final Samhain lineup was identical to the lineup of the first five Danzig releases. Different names, same band.)

I would argue that the perceived change had nothing to do with the music and everything to do with visual aesthetics; here are the original covers of the first four Danzig releases:

Let’s linger over the self-titled first release. Here’s the original gatefold LP all opened up:

Okay, so: this is a great piece of design, and it demonstrates just how completely bizarre Danzig was; 1988 may be known for many things, but two-tone minimalist cover art is not amongst them. This is, sadly, one of the last gasps of Danzig’s New York design sense; immediately after we move into (more!) weird close-ups and when your record label is giving you enough money to license the artwork of H.R. Giger for your third album, you know it’s gone to shit and then you’re getting Simon Bisley to draw big evil demons and there’s no point of return. (Except there was, sort of: Danzig 4p, the fifth release, had artwork designed by Danzig. It’s great but afterwards everything immediately goes to shit and never comes back.)

The lettering for the Danzig logo on this cover comes from another pulp source– the film poster for The Giant Gila Monster– and the Skull, also used for Samhain, and which seems so prototypically metal, was stolen from the most ridiculous source of all Danzig’s sampling: Michael Golden’s cover to an obscure Marvel comic called Crystar.

It’s the same damn thing. Musically, visually; it’s all the same until money corrupts the enterprise and gives the dude too many cameras and lick-whipping strippers. (The two most recent Danzig offerings– Circle of Snakes and Lost Tracks– were self-released. Both, musically anyway, are vastly superior to the previous 10 years of crap. It’s all come full circle.)

The “Evil Elvis” moniker becomes an enormously useful metric. While I’m in no way arguing that Danzig’s cultural position is any way commensurate with that of Presley in terms of influence or importance, it bears remembering that Presley was a major artist and musical force whose late career choices effectively destroyed his achievements.

Some of the best Presley songs were recorded in the early-to-mid 70s period, but they remain hard to hear. The visuals of the period– the sequins and the jumpsuits and the fat– are overpowering. By the end of the 70s, Elvis’s aesthetic choices had done enough damage that Greil Marcus had to write Mystery Train to remind people of the revolutionary music from the 50s and 60s.

Presley was and continues to be discussed like an idiot, as if the multi-decade career was a mistake into which a country bumpkin had wandered; replace Memphis with Lodi, New Jersey and you’ll see the same kind of dismissal of Danzig. But if the 20th Century taught us anything, it’s this: anyone can get a record deal, but the only people who survived were the ones that knew what they wanted and understood what they were doing.

In the year 2002 (or was it 3?), Arafat summered in Dhaka, and while there, he hunted down Azam Khan. From The Guru himself was procured the sole remaining cassette of the original recording of “Jibone.” This tape was brought to America. I borrowed it (never returned) and made an mp3 of the song in question:

azam khan – Jibone Kichu Pabonare.mp3

While I was looking through my External Hard Drive– a/k/a The Archives– I came across the saved cache of an article that appeared years ago on bangladeshinfo.com. Its subject: Azam Khan. Its author: unknown. Sadly, this masterpiece bears no byline, but is so incredibly overwrought, and thus awesome, that it must be reprinted in full :

–

AZAM KHAN: THE LIVING LEGEND

There are many bodily signs of greatness, but none is more consistently found cohabiting in the same body with greatness as plainness of appearance. In describing David Hume, the greatest Empiricist of all time, one of his contemporaries said, “Never before has genius been so uncouthly garbed in flesh”. You would feel the same way about Azam Khan too. Azam Khan is the first, and possibly, only, rock icon of Bangladesh, a true rebel, an honest rocker…but you can just walk by this strictly unassuming rock god without casting a second glance.

The whole tradition of band music owes its very existence to this one person and his charisma. Unlike his western counterparts, Azam Khan has not held onto his bad boy image just because of its marketability. We have seen many an erstwhile rockin’ rebel cast off their rebel image in favor of hipper and more financially viable images (do the names Ozzy and Metallica come to mind?) Azam Khan has failed to earn millions but has been able to keep for himself something more precious – his soul! He has successfully remained the perennial youth that so well befits a rock god and is so lamentably lacking today.

It all started back in 1974 with the formation of Azam’s band Uchharon. Within a very short time the young and restless of Dhaka were singing Uchharon tracks like “Jala jala”, “Abhimani”, “Alal o dulal” and were screaming for more. Uchharon’s music was a clear break away from the prevalent mainstream music. It was fresh, bold and innovative. Words of frustration, disillusionment and alienation were bored into the heart of the listeners by distortion- drenched monster guitar riffs played with abandon and angst. The band’s shows were charged with electricity and fans used to become almost idolatrous. Azam’s Dylanesque voice, propelled by Nayan Monshi’s heavy riffs, turned Uchharon into the Grateful Dead of Bangladesh.

Unfortunately, the band’s line-up changed shortly after this, as Nayan went away to Canada (Nayan died there a few years later in a car crash). But Azam found a worthy successor to his guitar hero in new-recruit Rocket. Azam’s music now flowed in a new direction; the next few albums had a definite spiritual tinge. Songs of this period were inspired by the untimely death of Nayan. Songs Like “Ami jare chaire”, “Eto sundar duniyae” were pregnant with mystical allusions to the temporal nature of life. His music also became more socially conscious. His classic hit “Bangladesh” was all about social inequities which he saw around him. But inspite of his huge popularity, Azam rarely appeared on TV and other entertainment media. Yes, a haircut and a toned down attitude would have made him the darling of the media, but Azam never condescended to doing something for the benefit of the media alone. But even with the minimal airplay his songs got from the media, his influence on the youth of that period was immense. Never before, nor since, has there been any other musician in Bangladesh who could draw his audience so wholly into the mood of the music.

During the 80′s, Azam took an extended break from music. Except for the release of a few compilation albums, the only major musical excursion was the 1987 Flood Aid Concert. Even in the absence of his original band (Ayub Bachhu had the privilege of playing guitar, while Tipu and Vishnu played bass and drums), Azam put on a highly-charged performance and rocked the arena, while 50,000 (it was the biggest concert till date) fans chanted “Azam, Azam.” In the early 90s, Azam and Uchharon became the first Bangladeshi band to perform in the US. The live album off that tour became the first live album in Bangladesh Rock history. After his US tour, Azam released his Anamika album, which showed that far from compromising his unique style to adapt to the music scenario of the 90s, Azam had remained true to his roots. Though the album was not as big a hit as his earlier works, it did receive much airplay and the title track became a hit. In the dying years of the last decade, the Bangladeshi music community recognized Azam’s contribution to rock music in the country. Sargam brought out an Azam Khan Tribute Album. All major Bangladeshi artists and bands covered a number of his hit songs for the album. It was one of the highest selling albums of the local recording industry. So, how does our king of pop keep himself busy these days? The Guru is a fitness freak, he swims and plays cricket and offers swimming lessons at the National Stadium swimming pool. However, there is no need to be disappointed, because the guru has not retired from the music scene. “We have to support the newcomers”, he says, “So that we can be proud of the next generation of band musicians and they can popularise our music outside the country as well.” With that goal in mind, Azam Khan is currently working with a number of upcoming bands and is planning to bring out an album soon. For the thousands of Azam Khan Fans, that is something worth anticipating.

Azam is not your politically correct rock star; in fact, he is not even a star, he is a rocker – a simple and unassuming rocker who pours his heart into every note he sings.

–

Special Bonus Material. A recent email exchange between me and Kazi.

–

from: Jarett Kobek
to: Arafat Kazi
date: Fri, May 16, 2008 at 10:42 PM
subject: jibonu kichu pabonare

dude what are the lyrics to jibone kichi pabonare

I mean all translated and stuff like they was done in English by the man instead of his native Bangla– like he was SPEAKING TO ME IN MY OWN TONGUE!

Many thanks,

“jarett”

–

from: Arafat Kazi
to: Jarett Kobek
date: Sun, May 18, 2008 at 2:03 AM
subject Re: jibonu kichu pabonare

I’ll never get anything out of this life
I haven’t forgotten that thought, HYUH!
I’ll never get anything out of this life
I haven’t forgotten that thought, HYUH!

Come back to me, say you’ll be my mate, and never leave me again!
Come back to me, say you’ll be my mate, and never leave me again!

If you want to go off into the unknown, don’t go alone
Think about what you do before you do it, don’t do it and then think
If you want to go off into the unknown, don’t go alone
Think about what you do before you do it, don’t do it and then think

No, no, no, think about it! Don’t go alone by yourself
If you want to go off into the unknown, don’t go alone

EEEEYAAAAH

I’ll never get anything out of this life
I haven’t forgotten that thought, HYUH!
I’ll never get anything out of this life
I haven’t forgotten that thought, HYUH!

I’m fascinated by early representations of mythology in American cartoons and comics– a reoccurring motif in the work of Kirby– but this story holds a special distinction, having served, apparently, as the partial inspiration for the lyrics of “Leave the Capitol,” a song by The Fall.

“Leave the Capitol” is on the Slates EP, released during the band’s early 78-83 period. This is when they were, indisputably!, the best band in the world. The lyrics in question come towards the end of a long historical ramble– who knows its meaning?– and are the proclamation of what sounds like a drunken Scotsman:

“I laughed at the great God Pan
I didnae! I didnae!
I laughed at the great god Pan
I didnae! I didnae! I didnae! I didnae! I didnae!”

This song follows on the lyrics of “2nd Dark Age,” a song found on Early Fall 77-79, the lyrics of which read, in part:

“I am Roman Totale XVII
the bastard offspring of
Charles I
and The Great God Pan”

]]> http://blog.kobek.com/2008/04/25/i-laughed-at-the-great-god-pan/feed/ 0 http://blog.kobek.com/2008/02/24/jinx-dawson-of-coven-interviewed-by-andrew-god-damned-harrison/ http://blog.kobek.com/2008/02/24/jinx-dawson-of-coven-interviewed-by-andrew-god-damned-harrison/#comments Sun, 24 Feb 2008 22:51:35 +0000 Jarett Kobek http://blog.kobek.com/2008/02/24/jinx-dawson-of-coven-interviewed-by-andrew-god-damned-harrison/ Continue reading →]]> Coven is one of the more obscure bands of the 1960s; a Chicago based outfit of quasi-Satanic occultists best known for a stage show incorporating wild antics, crucifixion, Black Masses and, one supposes, music. Their debut album, Witchcraft Destroys Minds and Reaps Souls, is the most regarded, but I prefer the subsequent releases that move away from the vague Satanic proto-metal into an early ’70s dark schmaltz. This puts me in a minority. I recommend Blood on the Snow.

Though I’ve loved Coven for years, I am nothing compared against my aspiring hetero life partner, Andrew god-damn-the-man Harrison. In his monomaniacal quest for Knowledge, he hosts about 13,000 prog rock/psych radio shows and recently scored an interview with Coven’s vocalist, the self-proclaimed Queen of Goth, Jinx Dawson. You can listen here– the interview is at the 1/3rd mark, give or take. Take or give. Your choice.

Jinx reveals many shocking things and Andrew vaguely scandalizes her, but the high point comes towards the end when she shouts me out by name. I am one of her Magick Friends. Obviously a favor pulled by Harrison. I’ve got the best god damned friends in the world.

–

Update: Harrison has his own blog dedicated to whatever obscure music is taking his whimsical fancy, both as a man and as a DJ. Douse yourself in his perfumed fineries at arcanaobscura.blogspot.com.

–

Update #2:  The lovely Jinx Dawson kindly commented on this post & pointed out my error. Hi, Jinx!

It’s hard to imagine a less necessary work. Dylan has long been a master of destroying his public persona through the medium of film. Remember: this is the man who gave us Eat the Document, Renaldo and Clara, Hearts of Fire and Masked and Anonymous. Rumor has it that Dylan kicked around the idea of an adaptation of “Rosemary, Lily, and the Jack of Hearts” and went so far to commission a screenplay. God. If only.

Anyway, the only significant thing to come from Haynes’s project is the commercial release of Dylan’s “I’m Not There (1956)” on the film’s soundtrack. This song was recorded by Dylan and The Hawkes/The Band during the so-called Basement Tapes sessions, and has been available previously only through bootlegging.

Having heard this news, I went looking for internet transcriptions of the song. Each one that I found was atrocious. As such, I’ve gone ahead and put together what I think is about the most reasonable and accurate rendering of the lyrics that can be found, along with explanations of the weirder lines. Words and phrases surrounded by double question marks indicate unresolved confusion on my part. Lines followed by asterisks indicate firm judgment as to what’s being said. Here:

“I’m Not There (1956)”
Bob Dylan

1 Ev’ry thing’s all right
2 And then she’s all the time
3 In my neighborhood
4 She cried both day and night
5 I know it because it was there

6 It’s a milestone but
7 She down on her luck
8 And she day makes her lone (*)
9 And but ??to make too hard to buck??
10 I be then (*)

11 I believe where she stopping
12 If she wants time to care
13 I believe that she’d
14 Look upon deciding to care
15 And I go by The Lord in ways (*)
16 She’s on my way
17 But I don’t belong there

18 No, I don’t belong to her
19 I don’t belong to ev’rybody (*)
20 She’s my prize-foresaken angel
21 But she don’t hear me cry
22 She’s a long hearted mystic
23 And she ??dare?? carry on
24 When I’m there she’s all right
25 But when she’s not when I’m gone

26 Heaven knows that the answer
27 She’s don’t calling no one
28 She’s the way, a sailing beauty
29 For she’s mine, for the one
30 And I lost her, hesitation (*)
31 By temptation less it runs
32 But she don’t holler me (*)
33 But I’m not there I’m gone

34 Now I’ve cried tonight
35 Like I cried the night before
36 And I’m leased on the highs
37 But I dream about the door
38 So long, she’s foresaken
39 By fate, worse to tell
40 It don’t hang ??proclamation??
41 She smiles fare thee well

42 Now I went out ??(undecipherable)??
43 I was born to love her
44 But she knows that the kingdom
45 Weighs so high above her
46 And I run, but I race
47 But it’s not to fast to ??slim??
48 But I don’t perceive her
49 I’m not there I’m gone

50 Well it’s all about diffusion (*)
51 As I cry for her veil
52 I don’t need anybody now
53 Beside me to tell
54 And it’s all affirmation (*)
55 I recede but it’s not (*)
56 She’s a ??lone hearted?? beauty
57 But she gone like the spot
58 And she want

59 Yes, she’s gone like the radio (*)
60 That shining yesterday
61 But now she’s a-home beside me
62 And I’d like to here to stay
63 She’s a bone forsaken beauty
64 And it’s dont trust anyone
65 And I wish I was beside her
66 But I’m not there I’m gone

67 Well it’s too hard to stake-in (*)
68 And I don’t far believe
69 It’s ??all bag?? for to musing
70 But she’s hard, too hard to leave
71 It’s alone, it’s a crime
72 The way she won’t be around
73 But she told for to hatred
74 But this ??long forsaken?? clown

75 Yes I believe that its rightful
76 Oh I believe it in my mind
77 I been told like I said
78 When I before carry on the grind
79 And she’s on bet to told her (*)
80 Like I said, carry on
81 I wish I was there to help her
82 But I’m not there I’m gone

Notes:

8. “makes her lone.” Lonely would be better, but alas, that ain’t what the man sang. The -ly suffix is dropped.
9. Fairly certain that “to make too hard to buck” is accurate but can’t be sure.
10. “I be then” is what’s sung. Given the structure of the other verses mostly ending with some variation of “I’m Not There,” it’s possible that this was improvisation gone awry.
15. 95% certain this line ends “in ways.”
19. Other transcriptions have Dylan singing “to anybody.” An accurate listen offers “ev’rybody,” a contraction used throughout his work in the 1960s and at the beginning of this song.
23. “dare” seems reasonable here, but isn’t the sound being made. Update: Sam Tregar suggests “deign.” It’s closer than dare, actually, but still not right.
30. I’m willing to render the final word as “hesitation” because this sounds more like a vocal stumble than a nonsense placeholder.
32. “Holler” sounds closest. Could be something else but I’m hard pressed to say what.
40. “Proclamation” is how everyone else transcribes this. I can’t tell.
42. Absolutely no idea.
47. Absolutely no idea, but it does sound a lot like “slim.”
50. A rare instance of a complex idea tracking from one line to the next. Dylan makes a sound a lot like “diffusion” and this makes logical sense, as the next line ends on “veil.”
54. “Affirmation” sounds right. Could be different. Makes sense with the following line.
55. “Recede.” Dylan starts singing “receive” and puts an “-ede” sound on the end.
56. Best guess.
59. Other renderings have this as “rainbow” instead of “radio.” Rainbow would be nice, as the next line would then inform this one, but sorry. He sings “radio.” Welcome to the world of Bob Dylan.
67. Definitely “stake-in.” No idea what it means.
69. Almost certain this line is as rendered. “All bag” is too difficult to say for sure, but “to musing” sounds right.
74. If anyone knows what kind of clown, please, please, please, email me.
79. An accurate rendering of ungrammatical English.

The more that I hear the Thin Wild Mercury, the more Dylan sounds like what he was: a callow jerk in his mid-twenties. Having recently been a callow jerk in his mid-twenties, it’s a little too familiar. I prefer the work surrounding the period. Perhaps in my mid 30s I’ll be down on Planet Waves. “I love you more than money!? I love you more than blood? A little touch of your love? I’m goin’ back to New Orleans and puttin’ on Another Side of, dammit!” says the Future Self of 2012, just before the Mayan Calendar blows up the world.

Anyway. Back in the late 90s, I had a laugh with my friend Sam Tregar, author of CPAN module HTML::Template and its companion book, the rivetingly titled Writing Perl Modules for CPAN. The joke was that one should break up with a woman at the exact moment when she informed you that she believed “Like a Rolling Stone” was about her life. The theory being that this association bespoke a deep psychological problem that no amount of Love & Companionship could ever make right. Why would anyone want to be the subject of such a hate filled song? Or willingly admit a narrative similarity between their life and the song’s (apparent) protagonist?

But hello, part of why people are so nuts over the song is its profound superiority to any other piece of music from the First Rock period. God knows it is the best song of its decade, with a quality that prefigures Blood on the Tracks, an album of songs & lyrics of such astonishing quality that one is tempted to believe that Dylan was being ghosted by God. As with any work of Real Art, “Like a Rolling Stone” bares no real traces of its creation; it feels as though it has always existed, like Dylan (in his own words) “pulled it out of the air” and laid it down.

(Fear not, aspiring artists–”Like a Rolling Stone” took a lot to laugh and a train to cry. There’s a very documented history of Dylan struggling in the studio. The Bootleg Series, Vol 1 has an outtake of the song in 3/4ths time & accompanied by a harpsichord. So. Masterpieces are always made.)

I think the confusion of “Like a Rolling Stone” comes from the often unrecognized fact that the song contains two narratives– there’s clearly the very familiar, but never better rendered, venom and bile of Bob Dylan towards an unknown woman who hasn’t lived up to his (impossible) expectations, which is the A Story of the verses, but then there’s also the B Story of the chorus. The writing here is incredibly tight; in five repeated lines, Dylan manages to achieve a story as consistent and well rendered as the first, but one that also bleeds into and seemingly informs the A Story. Which is to say: you can listen to the chorus and think it’s about the same person as the verses.

With that in mind, you start seeing why a lot of people think the song is about themselves. Informed by the A Story, the B Story can be read as a ballad of the open road, of the freedom of being out on your own; it’s almost as if the chorus functions as a counterpoint to the verses– okay, yeah, Miss Lonely, you had to make juice with it, but here you go, you’re away from that darkness now, you’re out living the hipster dream of 1964, and by the way, how does it feel? The inferred answer being: “Well, redemptive and pretty good, actually.”

I’d argue the opposite: that the B Story is, if anything, Bob Dylan’s address to himself. It’s a cry of pain in the existential mirror of the Chapter One in a first novel. It’s about the dark side of the American Dream– I don’t mean some HST fantasy where hobo midgets dry hump your leg while you’re on acid & cops beat you for daring, daring! to dream, but rather what happens when America shrugs and allows you to make it; when you push yourself so far into your own destiny that you’re forced to realize, oh snap, I done done it and it ain’t no different. There’s no direction home because there is no home, and not in some grand delusion of being a pilgrim on the expeditionary road to oblivion, but being so bored & lonely & lowdown that every possible option is exhausted and you can’t figure out where to go or what to do, because ain’t it gonna be the same anyway? And how does it feel?

Awful, apparently.

And where do you go?

To a basement, to upstate New York, where you hide out and reincarnate as a 19th Century Mystic, a slightly less gay Walt Whitman. One of the roughs while everyone’s dressed in ascots & paisley.

None of these are my favorite songs, nor even my favorite Bob Dylan songs. I am, and will always be, a bigger fan of imperfection. Especially when it comes to Bob Dylan, an artist whose mistakes and accidents are always as fascinating as his triumphs and conquests. The Basement Tapes, for instance, with all their glitches, false starts and nonsense lyrics speak more directly to my tastes; but I know well enough that my preferences are subjective and not the final arbiters of quality. It is impossible to deny the awesome and solemn power of the 4 Blood songs. It is as if, for a brief period, God decided that He would write lyrics directly and His instrument would be Bob Dylan.

The songs mark a significant shift in Dylan’s writing– gone is the singular phraseology, gone is the unique delivery, gone is the clever word play, gone is the possible social commentary, gone is the humor, gone is the Individual Viewpoint, gone is everything that distinguished Dylan throughout the 60s. And in its place is a vision of reality, a solid, explicable thing of itself, where the people and subjects under discussion as are real as Dylan or you or I. All those silly, one line characters from the long, tedious songs of the 1960s have been discarded and replaced by actual personages.

Dylan’s brilliance is in the economy with which he achieves this and in the fact that these Monumental Works are still, you know, killer as songs. They transcend their form without breaking it. When compared against Dylan’s earlier work, they also happen to be an excellent demonstration of the shift from the lyrical to epical that James Joyce writes about in the last part of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.

Today, while looking for something else entirely, I came across young men (always the men) distributing videos of themselves performing “Tangled up in Blue”. There’s a certain admirable arrogance to the idea of any joe with a guitar trying to master a song of which Dylan himself lost control immediately after it was recorded, and so I thought I’d share some of these videos, just to demonstrate that even though you might have the world’s hottest song, you still gotta be a certain hella kid of performer to pull off a line like, “Lord knows I’ve paid some dues gettin’ through.”

So here goes!