Bennyboy wrote:
You know - this morning on the way to work, I listened to 'Early Roman Kings' (I keep wanting to type Early Morning Rain for some reason! Ha.) back to back with 'Meet Me In the Morning' (there we go - its a morning thing) and aside from the singing quality differential, the thing that struck me like a lightning bolt was this:
The Dylan of 'Meet Me In The Morning' is in a dynamic subject-object relationship throughout the song. He is singing to the 'honey' he had, who he lost, who still lives in his every pore. He is supplicant to his desire for reunification, for the heat of that relationship to be rekindled. And even though this song is very simple, lyrically, he manages to say more and touch me more in one simple double line repeated verse than he does in the whole of 'Early Morning Kings'.
Meet me in the morning 56th and Wabasha
Meet me in the morning 56th and Wabasha
Honey we could be in Kansas
By time the snow begins to thaw.
They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn
They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn
But you wouldn't know it by me
Every day's been darkness since you been gone.
Little rooster crowing there must be something on his mind
Little rooster crowing there must be something on his mind
Well I feel just like that rooster
Honey ya treat me so unkind.
Well I struggled through barbed wire felt the hail fall from above
Well I struggled through barbed wire felt the hail fall from above
Well you know I even outran the hound dogs
Honey you know I've earned your love.
Look at the sun sinking like a ship
Look at the sun sinking like a ship
Ain't that just like my heart babe
When you kissed my lips?
Even reading the lyrics you get a sense of the despair and - here's a word that strikes me as emininently suitable - truth to the narrator's pleas. We've all been there, right?
Whereas, by contrast, 'Early Roman Kings' uses a lot of words to say, well, who knows? Not much, if you ask me. Certainly not much I can personally relate to. I mean, what does distributing corn, destroying cities, sending people to the house of death have to do with me getting up and going to work every day and struggling to juggle my dreams against the grim reality of paying the rent and eating food to stay alive? Or to my relationship with the beautiful woman who lives with me? I'm not interested in knowing more about cruel people stamping on others - its there everytime I walk outside or switch on TV. What I want is the light and shade of the inner life, something that isn't reductively mean and selfish (in the negative sense), communion with a larger organism of consciousness that is striving towards the light - a prospect, if you like, of healing in the darkness.
Dont get me wrong - I think 'ERK' is a better blues song than he has produced in a while, and the singing and lyrics are a notch above the last couple of albums. But its pretty much a song that is about two perspectives on cruel/benevolent dictatorship welded together in the middle that ultimately doesnt really offer any hooks to hang my emotional coats on.
It's a glib metaphor I know, but like a tempest itself, could the song finally be full of sound and fury, yet signifying nothing?
Pretty much the opposite of 'Meet Me In The Morning' then.
And that, gentlefolk, is the rub, I feel.
Vulnerability is what's missing from most Dylan songs now.
I'll keep this brief. Kurt Cobain represents what counts for vulnerability for the pop and most art culture of white, educated, liberal men. But it's not a real vulnerability. It's self-loathing whose main form is irony. That is, it is not vulnerable. It is a closed thing. What is vulnerable is itself to its own attack. Love and all the terrible exposure that comes from it isn't really possible in that stance for a lot of reasons. You all know them.
The kind of vulnerability that Dylan was capable of 40 years ago is no longer a viable form. It would seem schmaltzy. Camp. Or it would until recently when there has been a reversal to a kind of sincerity in literature, etc.
Some (not all) of Dylan's songs draw on the bravado of a strain of the blues (and rap) that play on the social position of the people who invented it. But that bravado was always cut by the obvious vulnerability of the actual social position. It feels like a protest. It doesn't with Dylan.
In the kind of songs BennyBoy is addressing, Dylan is drawing on the bragging in that strain of music, but doing it in the service of his dark and cynical take on human life: perverted, debased souls, who, at best, are trying not to totally succumb to their base instincts. That's what Benny is marking. IT does not give the feeling of a protest. It feels like pessimism. Because it is.
When Dylan does address vulnerability, it can sound weird and nostalgic (When the Deal Goes Down, which is a treacly, existential love song -- is the "deal" death or the final judgment?).
Does Mississippi fit either? Maybe a little campy. It certainly lacks the pathos and vulnerability of the most heart-wrenching and simple of Dylans songs, totally straight-ahead lyrics: I Threw it All Away, You're A Big Girl Now. Both of those songs feel like pain every time.
Just some provisional thoughts anyway.
Thanks BennyBoy.
Login
Register
FAQ
