conal0102 wrote:
Something Clever wrote:
What does it mean to be "Cold Irons Bound"? Seriously. At first I thought he was namechecking some obscure blues-song town or phrase, then I figured he meant jail cell bars or shackles 'cause he was gonna off the woman who done him wrong...
Never really gave it enough investigation to decide for myself.
To me, being bound in cold iron suggests being shackled and chained. He is like a prisoner to the love he has for her. Trapped on the outside (20 miles outside in fact!), but unable to escape.
I went to church on Sunday and she passed by
My love for her is taking such a long time to dieIt's almost like, almost like I don't exist
I'm twenty miles out of town, in cold irons boundShe passes him by, she is over him. And yet he longs for her. To him she is unobtainable and just one look can send him out of control.
Well, the road is rocky and the hillside's mud
Up over my head nothing but clouds of blood
Oh, the winds in Chicago have torn me to shreds
Reality has always had too many heads
During a discussion of Idiot Wind, I said that "the reason (some of) Bob's love songs are so incredibly powerful is because they feel like a place... Full of mountainous terrain, endless plains and dirt roads. They have there own weather, black clouds rolling in on the horizon. The people, the places, the events all come together to create something incredible... something that seams at first to be just out of reach, like being held at arms length... and yet, at the same time something that resonates so personally.
In my eyes, no one else could have written Idiot Wind... It's something from another time... or perhaps another word. I'm just glad that when Dylan caught a glimpse he managed to take a photo and was kind enough to share it."
While I don't think CIB measures up to Idiot Wind, he does employ some of the same techniques. Of course the clouds are not really full a blood, it's an emotional landscape. And a darkly beautiful one at that.
"Clouds of blood" is one of Bob's most striking lines IMHO. That whole song has a great, clattering deathly sound, all right. And Lanois deserves a lot of credit for that, despite all the opprobrium he has to endure from some of Dylan's fans - the puritanical Michael Gray not least among them.
Conal0102, you make some great points here. I don't know that the use of landscape as metaphor has ever been systematically explored in Dylan's work. It's an ancient poetic device, of course, but one he deploys supremely well. Think of "frozen leaves...haunted frightened trees...diamond sky..." all delivered in a single burst.
Bob's ultimate excursion into the correspondence of landscape and emotional condition may, of all things, be "Tell Ol' Bill," especially in the wonderfully ominous (and spectacularly sung) version on
Tell Tale Signs. (For the life of me, I'll never know why he chose the banal rockabilly version for official release. It deprives the song of all its drama, not to mention that great rolling piano line). Check out how the correspondences run systematically through the tune:
The river whispers in my earI've hardly a penny to my name
The heavens have never seemed so near
All my body glows with flame.
The tempest struggles in the airAnd to myself alone I sing
It could sink me then and there
I can hear the echoes ring.
I tried to find one smilin' face
To drive the shadow from my head
I'm stranded in this nameless placeLyin' restless in a heavy bed.
Tell me straight out if you will
Why must you torture me within?
Why must you come down off your high hill?
Throw my fate to the clouds and wind.
Far away in a silent landSecret thoughts are hard to bear
Remember me you'll understand
Emotions we can never share.
You
trampled on me as you passedLeft the coldest kiss upon my brow
All my doubts and fears have gone at last
I've nothing more to tell you now.
I walk by tranquil lakes and streams
As each new season's dawn awaits
I lay awake at night with troubled dreams
The enemy is at the gate.
Beneath the thunder-blasted trees
The words are ringin' off your tongue
The ground is hard in times like these
Stars are cold, the night is young.
The rocks are bleak, the trees are bare
Iron clouds go floatin' by
Snowflakes falling in my hair
Beneath the gray and stormy sky.The evenin' sun is sinking low
The woods are dark, the town is tooThey''ll drag you down, they run the show
Ain't no tellin' what they'll do.
Tell Ol' Bill when he comes home
Anything is worth a try
Tell him that I'm not alone
That the hour has come to do or die.
All the world I would defy
Let me make it plain as day
I look at you now and I sigh
How could it be any other way?