I must admit, I'm a bit biased. The composer, James P. Johnson, was my grandfather.
James P. Johnson
via the Internet
An Oldie but a Goodie
In his review and analysis of Bob Dylan's recent Denver appearances (Feedback, June 10), Michael Roberts displayed a critical misapprehension of Dylan as a vital performing artist. Roberts asserted that in recent televised appearances, Dylan has been "plain old incoherent--and America loves him for it." To which appearances is Mr. Roberts referring?
Could he be referring to the 1998 appearance at the Grammys in which Dylan performed a heartfelt rendition of "Lovesick" before picking up his Album of the Year award? In his acceptance speech, Dylan quoted Robert Johnson and recalled making eye contact with Buddy Holly at the latter's final show. That moment obviously had tremendous significance for Dylan; he went on to assert that the spirit of Buddy Holly was present throughout the recording of Time Out of Mind.
More recently, at the Johnny Cash tribute concert, Dylan offered a few words to the ailing legend before performing a wonderfully reworked version of "Train of Love." Dylan confided: "I want to sing you one of your songs about trains. I used to sing this song before I ever wrote a song. And I also want to thank you for standing up for me way back when."
To anyone with a sense of history in regard to the music of the twentieth century, Bob Dylan's reflections tell personal stories of identification and inspiration. "I used to sing this song before I ever wrote a song," Dylan said. Can you see it in your mind's eye? A teenaged Bob Dylan identifying with a song about human longing. A teenaged Bob Dylan making eye contact with a soon-to-be-deceased legend. These are the events indelibly marked in Dylan's own personal development, and he chose to share these candid reflections with a vast audience. The symbolism of these stories would be lost only on a person with no understanding of Dylan's undeniable role in redefining the vocabulary and landscape of the popular song.
Admittedly, Dylan's Grammy appearance of 1991 was incoherent. Since then, however, he's played in excess of 1,000 concerts and has taken his live act to a "whole other level." How many of these shows have you seen, Mr. Roberts? Two?
Finally, Mr. Roberts's assertion that America loves Dylan because of his incoherence really broadens the vast realm of crappy journalism. It's not his songs (in excess of 500). It's not his tireless touring schedule (over 130 shows a year, eleven years running). It's his incoherence that endears him so deeply to so many. It's his incoherence that has earned him his place in cultures throughout the world. That's brilliant, Mr. Roberts!
On your way to the Ralph J. Gleason awards ceremony for excellence in music journalism, do yourself a favor: Listen to "Ballad of a Thin Man." You could learn a lot from that one.
Jeremy Schildcrout
Denver
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