barrettchase.com

barrettchase.com
obey the rules. often enter. organize your material.

Wed, 01 Jun 2011

Last week, the town I live in, Duluth, Minnesota, celebrated the 70th birthday of its most famous native-born one-time resident, Bob Dylan. I didn't attend any of the festivities. But that doesn't mean I don't like Bob Dylan. I really do.

Duluthians have two major attitudes toward Dylan, and both of them are embarrassing. The first attitude is the one that's officially sanctioned by the city government, all the community leaders, and most residents. This is: Bob Dylan We Love You And We Need You To Come Home. Please. We are begging. Literally begging. We'll do anything for you. Anything. You are the best thing that has ever happened to our little community and oh my god we are dying financially and culturally please help us please help please please please.

Toward this end, the city installed two commemorative manhole covers along Bob Dylan Way, which is not actually called Bob Dylan Way, but they put some signs up a few years ago indicating that a string of streets running through the tourist district may be called Bob Dylan Way if you are so inclined, even though the official street signs and names remain unchanged. There is no evidence to suggest that Bobby noticed.

The other attitude is one perpetuated by Duluth's hipsters and philistines, which goes something like this: Pfft. Bob Dylan. So overrated. Can't sing. Pfft. Not so special.

Anyway, like I said, Duluth did its thing last week, in the style that Duluth is good at, which is to install some public art, trot out a handful of our 86,000 musicians, prop them up on stage, pass a jar of smelling salts under their noses, hand them a Dylan song book and then pour cheap beer down everyone's throats until it's fun. Oh yeah, there was also a train ride during which all of these same things happened combined with the danger of everyone trying to publicly urinate off of said train, which is reportedly especially fun to watch when the public urinator is female. No one died, surprisingly, even though the event was titled "Blood on the Tracks," which is kind of like asking for tragedy to strike.

But like I said, I didn't go to any of this, which doesn't really matter because I grew up here and I could more or less script it without even having to change out of my sweatpants.

The first time I ever heard and loved Bob Dylan I was in 7th grade, watching Weird Al Yankovic as guest VJ on MTV (or AL-TV, as those segments were called). Al played the video for "Subterranean Homesick Blues," the one where Bob holds up all those homemade signs while Alan Ginsberg wanders around in the background. I can't realy say why, at age 13, I found this video to be so totally mint, except for the fact that it actually is totally mint. The only reason I don't think of it as totally mint at this point in time is that I've seen it so many times, and know it to be a culutural staple. And I guess back then, my mind was a cleaner slate, and I was experiencing it for the first time ever.

A few years later, INXS came out with their "Need You Tonight/Mediate" video which uses the same concept, and I got it.

Anyway, after I saw that video, I became somewhat of a Dylan fan, and set about gathering his albums over the years. Is there anything more insufferable than a young boy discovering Dylan for the first time? Listening to "Blowin' in the Wind" with fresh ears? Ugh. It's like reading The Catcher in the Rye or On the Road. Embarrassingly cliché.

But unlike fricken Kerouac, I still like and listen to Bob Dylan, probably because he has been so prolific over the years. There's still plenty of Dylan I've never heard. And it's still totally mint.

[filepath: /assessment/music]