Dylan on Dylan

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Dylan on Dylan Page 36

by Jeff Burger


  Mintz: Well, you’re saying it’s not true.

  Dylan: Just because it’s got my name on it, to me doesn’t mean that it was said by me. It could have been a misquote. It could have been pieced together. Well, let me take another tack at it. Let’s say it is exactly what came out of my mouth, and there’s really no reason to elaborate on it.

  Mintz: Well, had you said yes, I was going to say what’s intriguing to me is that on the Bootleg collection, we don’t hear that sound. The sound that comes off the Bootleg is something very fundamental. It is not “a wild, mercury sound, metallic and bright gold.”

  Dylan: Yeah, you know why? Because that sound, that’s unobtainable.

  Mintz: “Farewell, Angelina” was popularized by Joan Baez. Did you like her version of it?

  Dylan: Oh, it was wonderful.

  Mintz: How come that at the time you created such a beautiful song, did you choose not to record it?

  Dylan: Well, people have been asking me that for a long time. You can’t use them all.

  Mintz: So you’re saying basically there was no specific reason, that there was just no space on the disc for it, that there were other songs that you thought were better?

  Dylan: Well, on something like that, you’re really asking the wrong person, because at that time nobody had really given me that much control over my records, and what was on and what was off.

  Mintz: So somebody else, like a producer, maybe made the choices to what songs—

  Dylan: Yeah. In those days you just went in and you played whatever you had and you never knew how it was going to be used.

  * * *

  Dylan: [Referring to “Mama, You Been on My Mind.”] That was one of the California songs, Big Sur songs. There was a batch of them. Joan Baez could tell you probably more about that than me. She drove me once from the airport to her house, and that song might have been written during that trip in the backseat of her car.

  Mintz: There was one other person who you’ve talked about in interviews who you really admired, really loved, really respected, and never met, but just ran into in an elevator once—Johnnie Ray. What was it about Johnnie Ray that touched you that way, that affected you that way?

  Dylan: Do you remember Johnnie Ray?

  Mintz: Very, very well.

  Dylan: Well, yeah, he just had a lotta heart, didn’t he? He was hard of hearing, too.

  Mintz: Wore a hearing aid.

  Dylan: Yeah. He was a stylist before there was such a thing. Well, but you could say everybody was a stylist. Except not like him. He kinda carried that pathos thing. Didn’t he carry that thing kinda far? Just all of a sudden he’d break down and cry onstage.

  Mintz: He would break down onstage. Seems like he’d cry, cry, and cry.

  Dylan: How long’s it been since you seen someone break down and cry singing a song? Well, in Mexico they do it every night, really. If you go to South America, you’ll see it more often than you will in the States.

  Mintz: And Judy Garland did that, and Edith Piaf did that, too, and James Brown I think did that too. And I think Joe Cocker did that once or twice.

  Dylan: All right. Well, that’s something to reach for. The perfect teardrop.

  * * *

  Dylan: My role as an artist would be to stay true to my art.

  Mintz: I presume you would feel you have. If you were to listen to the Bootleg recordings around 1960–’61 through today, as we record this.

  Dylan: Well, who says it’s art, though? Who calls it art? Not me.

  Mintz: You don’t consider it art?

  Dylan: No. My stuff? No. Why should it be? My stuff don’t hang in museums.

  Mintz: What is it?

  Dylan: It’s performance. It’s like dance. It’s like anything else you go to a stage and you see. You see movement on the stage; it’s like a play. It’s a dance. It’s all that stuff that happens on the stage. That’s what makes the records; it’s not the other way around.

  * * *

  Mintz: Any thoughts about the song “Wallflower”?

  Dylan: No. Really, it’s just a sad song, sad experience, one of those pathetic situations in life that can be so overwhelming at times.

  * * *

  Mintz: [Regarding Blood on the Tracks.] An awful lot of people have commented on that album. I mean, that one seemed to stick with people for a very, very long time, and I think you once said that you were surprised about the number of people who were so moved and impressed and touched by that album, when for the most part, the album in many cases expresses such enormous sadness.

  Dylan: Well, look, people write better from rejection than acceptance. Like people say you can’t write good songs if you’re happy. Who wants to hear a happy song? A lot of people do.

  Mintz: “Tangled Up in Blue” and “If You See Her, Say Hello” from Blood on the Tracks . . . Did those songs represent a particular period for you?

  Dylan: Yeah. That was my painting period. That was my excursion into the world of art, learning how to paint on canvas. It was almost like the medium is the message type trip. It’s like they are paintings, those songs, or they appeared to be, or they seemed to try to be, or want to be. They have to be songs, anyway, so they have to be something, right. It’s kinda hard to explain but they’re more like a painter would paint a song as to compose it, more than a songwriter would write a song as to write it. It was like those songs were coming forth with just a burst of new insight.

  Yeah, painting’s cool. To see something, to be able to see it with your eye, to get it in your brain, to get it into your hands so you can transfer it from out there to over here, enjoy it.

  Mintz: Painting songs. I never heard that expression.

  Dylan: Painting, yeah. Well, maybe some other people have done it but that’s really doing it. That’s like taking a brush and painting those songs onto a canvas. They’re all painted. That’s what they are.

  * * *

  Dylan: “Foot of Pride,” that’s an outtake.

  Mintz: Does anything come to your mind about composing it?

  Dylan: Not about composing it. Composing it was all right. It had a bunch of extra verses that probably weren’t necessary. They should have been combined. But the reason why it was never used was because the tempo speeded up, but there wasn’t any drum machine used on that. The tempo just automatically took off, for some vague and curious reason.

  * * *

  Dylan: [Regarding Blind Willie McTell.] He was just a very smooth-operating bluesman. His songs always reminded me of trains, but that’s just my hang-up, trains. And his vocal style and his sound seems to fit right in with that lonesome sound. His ragtime kinda thing on a twelve-string guitar made everything he did sound . . . give it a little higher pitch. You could probably say he was the Van Gogh of country blues.

  Mintz: “When the Night Comes Falling from the Sky.” Does anything come to your mind about the composition, about where you were at when you were recording it, when you were composing it?

  Dylan: Composing it, yeah. It was bits and pieces of different places that went into writing that. Lines overheard here and there, strung together over a long period of time, resulted in that particular piece. It’s not that uncommon for someone who writes a song to just go somewhere and sit around for a long time where you’re going to throw yourself into the atmosphere of overhearing a lot of people talking to other people. If you’re ever hung up for things to say, you can always use that old trick. It works better sometimes than sitting in a room, staring at the wall and trying to compose there.

  Mintz: How concerned are you about the legacy you leave behind? I hope you live for another sixty to seventy years.

  Dylan: Yeah, legacy?

  Mintz: How history will remember you. Do you ever think about it?

  Dylan: Yeah, definitely.

  Mintz: Talk to us about it.

  Dylan: Well, legacy . . . that word is very similar to the word “legend,” which is also very similar to the word “legion.” OK, and in the
Bible, that’s the Devil’s name.

  Mintz: Legion?

  Dylan: So when you’re asking me about leaving a legacy, there’s nothing really that there’d be any great interest on my part in leaving because of the nature of the word itself.

  Mintz: Being synonymous with the Devil?

  Dylan: Yeah, to me that’s a little too close to “legion,” it’s the same word.

  Mintz: Let me find a different—

  Dylan: “Legend” is the same thing. We might be getting too heavy for a Westwood One show. We’re talking about the Devil.

  Mintz: Well, it’s a very heavy network.

  Dylan: They may censor that, but—

  Mintz: How would you like people to remember you a hundred years from now?

  Dylan: If they remember me at all, it’s devilish, because that means that there’s been a legacy left, and you don’t want to leave a legacy. If you try to attain some type of righteousness in this world, you don’t want to leave a legacy. A legacy of what? It’s all in the mind, anyway.

  Mintz: So, as part of your overall musical contribution, the kind of music that you have made, that’s an area that you own. Just nobody else messes with that. That’s the Bob Dylan experience. You take no pride or satisfaction in the fact that you have to some degree preserved that form of the American musical experience?

  Dylan: Yeah, it was mine to do, mine to give, mine to show up at the right time to do, and that’s just the way it all happened.

  Mintz: Was this a difficult experience? You have a history of resisting this kind of thing, the interview experience, taking about your songs—

  Dylan: No, this is enjoyable for me.

  Mintz: It is?

  Dylan: Oh, yeah . . . this is OK for me.

  Mintz: Some people upon hearing the past three hours that we’ve shared here together—and I thank you for your time and your honesty with all of this stuff—some of them might have come away saying, “Gosh, I don’t know why he just isn’t more proud of what he’s done, what he’s written, what he’s contributed. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just give himself a little pat on the shoulder at the very least.”

  Dylan: Pride? No, pride goes before a big downfall. You’ve heard that, we’ve all heard that.

  Mintz: Some degree of satisfaction?

  Dylan: No, not unless you were expecting some kind of downfall. No, pride . . . what is there to be proud about? That we made another record? Is that something to be proud about? Is it something to be proud of that you built another building? That you built another highway? That you have a new automobile on the road? Is it something to be proud about that you’ve invented a new fertilizer?

  Mintz: What about having created this enormous body of work that has touched, inspired, influenced so many millions of people all over the world? Does somebody not take some degree of joy in that?

  Dylan: Not really. You can’t do that. There’s too many other people that have done far superior things than me, in the same field.

  Mintz: Your overall relationship with the press, the Bootleg series covers a thirty-year period, thirty years of public awareness . . .

  Dylan: Well, my struggle with the press isn’t necessarily with the press. Certain publications at certain times tend to take liberties with you . . . by promising something they didn’t deliver or having something come out in a way that the person who was involved never was told about. People don’t like that kinda stuff. They don’t mind being interviewed and having some kind of slant on whatever it is you’re doing. You can let that wash off—that just rolls away. But the other stuff don’t. But they are specific people that would do something like that. So there’s no problem with the press for me. It’s just liars and hypocritical people and ambitious people that wanna step over you.

  * * *

  Mintz: Do you ever view those [evangelical records] as being any different to the records that came before them or since them?

  Dylan: Well, yeah, they’re all different.

  Mintz: How so?

  Dylan: In many, many ways.

  Mintz: Give me an example.

  Dylan: Well, the content of the songs was much different, had a different vibe.

  Mintz: The vibe could be called spiritual.

  Dylan: Yeah, religious vibe.

  Mintz: The song “Every Grain of Sand” seems to suggest, especially on the Bootleg collection, that you believe that this is a directed, purposeful universe where “every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.” Am I reading too much into it?

  Dylan: No!

  Mintz: Or is that an honest depiction of how you see the world?

  Dylan: Yeah. You can say that.

  Mintz: There are no accidents?

  Dylan: Accidents?

  Mintz: No accidents in the world—that everything happens because it’s supposed to happen.

  Dylan: Yeah, but that’s not what the song says. The song’s talking about coincidences, not accidents.

  Mintz: Coincidences?

  Dylan: Yeah, yeah. Forget about accidents. Accidents can happen but coincidences are bound to happen.

  Mintz: Do you believe literally that—taking your words again—“every hair is numbered like every grain of sand”? That someone, some entity, something has put all of this in order for some special—

  Dylan: Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

  Mintz: You do?

  Dylan: Oh, yeah, yeah.

  Mintz: This song suggests that you wrestle with that one a little.

  Dylan: Not really. Just because it’s got an order and a purpose doesn’t mean the way it’s coming down is written in stone. Everything changes—have to leave room for something to change. I like to give things enough space so I can change when I feel.

  * * *

  Dylan: None of my songs are that good. It’s the way they’re performed, that’s what it is. Hoagy Carmichael songs are much better than mine. So are George Gershwin’s and Irving Berlin.

  Mintz: You just said, “None of my songs are that good,” and then you talked about the others.

  Dylan: My songs are simple. They’re very simple to do. That doesn’t mean they’re any better.

  Mintz: You don’t believe the statement that you just made that none of your songs are any good. That’s not an accurate description.

  Dylan: Hank Williams’s songs are all better than mine.

  Mintz: What makes you so special then? What is this whole experience thing if it’s not the songwriting?

  Dylan: It’s the performing of that song. You’re not going to get nowhere with just a good song. You’ve got to be able to perform it, too.

  Mintz: And you would acknowledge that the way you perform your material is exceptional or unique?

  Dylan: To the material itself, only to that. Nothing about me is exceptional.

  Mintz: How has the imposition of success made it more difficult for you? I mean, presumably people think, well, his success made it easier for him, made it better for him, made it happier for him, made it more rewarding for him.

  Dylan: Success! Well, it depends. Someone might look at my life and think of it as being a great success but maybe from my point of view, that wouldn’t necessarily be true.

  Mintz: Is it? Do you view yourself as a success?

  Dylan: It’s not for me to view myself. That’s arrogant. It’s arrogant for people to view themselves in any kind of way. It’s a kind of arrogance. Where’s arrogance going to get you, really?

  Mintz: Let me phrase it differently. You’ve received so many public accolades over the years, and you’ve received obviously the approval not only of the public but of your peers, people who you respect, musicians who count.

  Dylan: Very true.

  Mintz: Do you view that as some kind of demarcation of success? Does that touch you in a way of saying, “I guess I did good, I guess I did right, I guess I made some kind of musical contribution”? Or do you say, “Well, none of that stuff has anything to do with me and I’m really indifferent to it”?
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  Dylan: Well, you say both things. There’s no sense to limit yourself and put yourself in a box to say one thing and to be held account for that. A person can fall in a trap by doing that to himself. There’s no reason to be extreme like that, especially if you’re dealing with the limitations of success in America.

  Mintz: Do you feel fulfilled with your work to date?

  Dylan: Well, my work fulfills me, but that’s all it has to do. That’s not saying a lot.

  Mintz: But the question is, you do feel that you’re living up to your creative potential?

  Dylan: Well . . . no . . . sometimes.

  Mintz: There are, I think, about eleven million people listening to us tonight.

  Dylan: There better be.

  Mintz: There are a lot of people listening, and I assume that a number of them would have liked to have been in this chair, asking you these questions, and I’m sure that I overlooked a couple that they would like to have asked.

  Dylan: They could be, someday.

  Mintz: And I hope next time around it will be one of them. The thing that I would like to ask you: Is there anything that I have not asked you? Is there anything that you’d like to say to them? Just an open platform to the people who have been with you now on this odyssey for thirty years, the people who presumably are going to go out and buy this amazing collection of songs. You’ve been asked all the questions. Anything you just want to say to them about you or anything? Take the microphone, talk to them. Any thought you want to communicate to them?

  Dylan: Well . . . don’t forget to look over their shoulder, you know. Something might be coming.

  Mintz: Like what, Bob?

  Dylan: Like a train.

  INTERVIEW

  Paul Zollo | November 1991 | SongTalk

  Paul Zollo first requested an interview with Dylan in 1987, when he became editor of SongTalk, the journal of the National Academy of Songwriters. About four years later, on May 8, 1991, he received a phone message from Dylan spokesman Elliot Mintz, whose own interview with the artist precedes this one in these pages. “Mr. Dylan appreciated your magazine,” Mintz said. “He will be in touch.”

 

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