BOB DYLAN Part II

by Cesare-Augusto Syjuco

Published in: Jingle Chordbook • Magazine, 1972

INTRODUCTION

IN ORDER to fully grasp the QUESTION OF SUCCESSION, a consideration of two things is necessary: (1) a general understanding of the direction contemporary topical songs (or “message songs”) have taken since the release of Dylan’s “John Wesley Harding” and (2) the critical study of that comparison of direction in the light of relevance to the present time.

In the light of this particular study, the possibilities are NOT exhausted here. The writer has merely drawn defined lines across the various types that have stemmed from the topical songs of protest which Dylan had established in the late 60’s.

I. THE OLD SCHOOL

UP UNTIL the later part of the 60’s, Donovan had in fact been more than merely a successor-in-waiting to Dylan’s coveted title. He had rivalled Dylan time and again for the position of “poet laureate” (although from a somewhat different standpoint) and had on many occasions taken the role of universal spokesman himself.

As almost the direct opposite of Dylan and his high-strung “the world is going to pieces—everything’s all wrong—there’s nothing we can do about it” songs of protest, Donovan (baptized Donovan Leitch) came as the only sane answer, the only clean break from the tension and anxiety stemming from everyday realities. If Dylan had indeed painted a true-to-life picture of cyclical disaster—a portrait of humanity in a state of irretrievable deterioration and helpless despair—Donovan seemed to present a formidable solution in mutual love and the recognition of individual dignity. His songs sought their themes in this, as in “Sunnygoodge Street”:

The magician, he sparkles in satin
and velvet
You gaze at his splendor with eyes
you’ve not used yet
I tell you his name is love, love, love...

and in more unabstracted true-to-life terms that depicted the common plight of thousands of the same young people who were yet unaware of their common identity as the "Rock Generation", as in "To Try For The Sun":

We stood in the windy city the
gypsy boy and I
We huddled in the breeze in the
midnight with the raindrop and
tears in our eyes.
We huddled in the dead of winter and
when he thought I was asleep
He wrapped his fur coat ’round my
shoulders and shivered there
beside me in a heap.
And who’s gonna be the one to say
’twas no good what we done?
I dare a man to say I’m goin’ to try
for the sun.

Where Dylan strove to catch the detailed ugliness of present-day existence, Donovan sang of a release from that mere existence. Where Dylan had succeeded in weaving his songs around an atmosphere of animal hostility and metallic coldness, Donovan spelled gentility and warmth, and sands of hope in his soft lyrical music. Where the former brought fear into the open, the latter offered consolation. And yet, both shared the same height of awareness, possessed almost the same high calibre of expressional artistry, saw the world from the same eyes of a new budding generation, and sang their own songs with the same musical and lyrical eloquence.

Should one of the two have possessed a musical and symbolical essence of considerably weaker stock than the other, he surely would not have survived long enough to gain recognition in his own right. Whereas the record buying public of today has achieved a much-welcomed state of receptability to varying styles and modes, such was not the case then. In 1965, there was no such receptability, no open-mindedness, no ready acceptance for anything that differentiated itself from the standard norm. In those days, anyone who had wanted to be a pop star HAD to sing and look like the Beatles; and even then, anyone who made it big as a pop star by looking like the Beatles had to play second-fiddle to the Beatles, if only because the latter had been there before them. Likewise, anyone who had dreams of hitting it big in the newly revived Folk Music World had to be a spitting image of Bob Dylan. It is to Donovan's credit that he had established a firm footage on the then-contemporary Folk scene without having first molded himself in Dylan's image and likeness. As Albert Grossman (Dylan's Manager) had himself said, "You'd have to be pretty damned much of something to be different and not get swept-up in the Dylan flood."

JOAN BAEZ, who is Dylan's close friend and associate, has herself never claimed to be a topical songwriter. At best, her relative importance in the Folk Music World (or in the Music World as a whole) is limited to that of a performer and exponent of Folk. Her renditions are often composed of traditional folk ballads (in which strain she has written her small collection of songs) as well as the more-sentimental pieces penned by a good number of her contemporaries, Sarstedt, Donovan and especially Dylan.

As of late, however, Miss Baez (now Mrs. something-or-other) has related herself to something other than a musical field - that of the Peace movement in the United States. Although her involvement here is somewhat minimal, the essential elements of her symbolical representation to the Rock Generation - if at all we are to assign her one — is rooted here. But again, universality of symbolical essence is absent in her particular case, and Miss Baez will undoubtedly fall short of the standard if we are to assess her in the light of what we had drawn in the previous chapter.

ARLO GUTHRIE, who made his sensational entrance into the contemporary scene by virtue of his best-selling record album, "Alice's Restaurant", is but another of the group of topical songwriters who have individually been rumored to possess the distinctive qualities of a would-be successor to Dylan's title. Son of the late Woody Guthrie, primary influence of such contemporary greats as Donovan and Bob Dylan himself, the younger Guthrie has thus a marked advantage, should the question of succession be placed in the light of open assessment of symbolical value. A present-generation Guthrie would of course relate more readily to present-generation young, if only because father Woody is venerated as having been the greatest topical songwriter ever to sing of the problems of the last generation.

Arlo's sound is distinctly adherent to family musical influence, often making use of his father's now-famous style of folk rendition, "talkin' blues", wherein lyrics are recited or chanted (not sung) with musical accompaniment. This he makes effective use of in "Alice's Restaurant", a 23-minute original recorded live on one side of the album bearing the same title, which humorously protests a great number of things – among them, "blind" justice, the Vietnam War, the draft board, de-humanization of humanity, etc.

Humor is still another musical trait common to the two Guthries. Like Bob Dylan, Arlo sings of the nauseating realities of existence; like his father, however, Arlo hides the element of nausea in humour. In a way, this is perhaps often the more effective way in communicating one's ideas or impressions, since "people are sick of sick ways of tellin' them sick things." On the other hand, close adherents to the Dylan-type of lyrical expression may tend to argue that Arlo fails in "telling things the way they really are."

Arlo's lyrics are often abstracted, making use of the simplest words (almost in nursery rhyme fashion) to spell-out a profoundly deep, but likewise simple message. In "Motorcycle Song", a 2-2 piece of protest stressing the common desire among the youth of America for non-involvement with the problems of the old, Guthrie sings:

I don't want a pickle
Just wanna ride on my motorcycle
I don't want a tickle
Just let me go ride on my motorcycle
And I don't wanna die
Just wanna ride on my motorcy'. . ."

Perhaps the difference in interpretation of one and the same theme, lies more in the difference in age between Arlo and the older school of present-day songwriters like Dylan. It could well be the old problem of substituting words with the same meaning; where Dylan would say "trouble" for example, Arlo might say "hassle". Relevance however, is dependent more upon what is being said than in how it is being said.

Still another consideration in a Dylan-Guthrie comparison would be scope. Whereas Dylan speaks of the troubled world, Arlo tends to speak more of YOUTH in relation to that world. A collection of his songs therefore, though limited to that particular scope, reads somewhat like a chronicle of what it was like to live in this decade. Although some will cite this as a perfect example of relevance to this generation, others will argue that a "poet laureate" should speak for the generation, and thus should be a spokesman, not a historian. But on many occasions, Arlo seems to be playing both roles, as in one song:

'Comin' in to Los Angeles from
over the border on a big airliner
Comin' in to Los Angeles bringin' in
a couple of ki's
Don't look in my bags if you please,
Mr. Customs Man.

If Arlo Guthrie is to make it however, he must indeed show more of himself than his mediocre side. This generation may not be in dire need of either spokesman nor historian, but a comedian is even less in demand at the present time.

II. MIDDLEMEN

The middlemen, among them John Lennon, Paul Simon, Paul McCartney, and John Sebastian (who are to be included in our discussion), form a distinct school of songwriters whose roots are still imbedded in the old school and yet have evolved apart from that school.

PAUL SIMON, PhD,, is undoubtedly a product of the old school of topical songwriters, although his songs have always been almost completely in their own class altogether. Simon's perception is acute (as can be seen in all and any of the songs he has penned for the now-defunct "Simon & Garfunkel"), catching every conceivable detail, harnessing not only meaningfulness but atmosphere, vividness, and eloquence in both music and lyrics. Simon, in almost every occasion, transcends the boundaries of contemporary music, transforming his "songs" into an interwoven tapestry of sight and sound; music and poetry, not merely song and lyrics, words and tune.

Old friends sat on their parkbench
like bookends
A newspaper blown by the breeze
falls on the round toes and the
high shoes of the old men.
Can you imagine us years from today
sharing a parkbench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy...

It is thus doubtful that anyone will contest the genius of Paul Simon, the poet and composer, not merely the songwriter. In his music lies the hidden fears, the terrible alienation and confusion, the joys and moments of sorrow and anguish of humanity, as in:

It's a still-life watercolor
of a late afternoon
As the sun shines through the
curtain lace and shadows
wash the room
And we sit and drink our coffee
conched in our indifference
Like shells upon the shore you
can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation and
the superficial sigh the borders
of our lives . . .

and

I am just a poor boy though my
story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance for
a pocketful of mumbles, such are
promises all lies and jest!
Still a man hears what he wants to
hear and disregards the rest...

and

Time it was and what a time it was …
a time of innocence
A time of confidences.
Long ago it must be I have a
photograph
Preserve your memories they're all
that's left of you.

The mastery with which Simon brings his art-works to life, however, has brought on criticism as well as praise. From the more progressive factions of contemporary music have come denouncements, ranging from "seeing the world through rose-colored glasses" to "adhering to the classical form of music". Whether such accusations are true or false cannot really matter. The unanswered question lies in whether or not his transcendence from the boundaries of contemporary music have transcended his universality beyond a generation.

JOHN B. SEBASTIAN (of former "Lovin' Spoonful" fame) can probably be credited with having bridged the gap between the old and new schools of topical songwriters. After the Spoonful's breakup before the turn of the last decade, Sebastian sought cover from public view for almost two years, spending the time touring the width and breadth of the vast American continent by road, writing a new collection of songs that were somewhat more fresh and free-flowing than those he had written during the days of the group.

Sebastian's sound has, and always will be Sebastian's sound. Often carefree, somewhat driving and punctuated, a little soothing and jolly on the side. Sebastian's songs were written on a wide assortment of topics during his groupie days — mostly on young fancies, little everyday occurrences, and the seemingly-unending generation gap problem. They were never songs of protest in the true meaning of the term, but rather were soft heartfelt ballads full of meaning and emotion, but devoid of anger. In "Didn't Wanna Have To Do It", a song by a son to his father, he sings:

Didn't wanna have to do it I kept
a-hopin' there'd be somethin'
to delay it again.
But you kept on tryin' and I knew
you'd end up cryin'
But no, I didn't wanna have to do it
at all.

In "Daydream", he sings:

What a day for a daydream
What a day for a daydreamin' boy
I'm lost in a daydream
Dreamin' of my bundle of joy . . .

Today, John Sebastian's songs are somewhat deeper and more profound, although in themselves, they contain the same basic ingredients. We see this in "You're A Big Boy Now":

You know there's things
You never thought before
That have to do with walkin' out
old doors
You've been prepared as long as
time allows
Well I don't know how but you're a
big boy now.

and, again in comparison with his older songs, this bit from "She's A Lady":

She's a lady
And I chanced to meet her in my
scufflin' days
She's a lady
Hypnotized me there that day
I came to play in my usual way . . .

Sebastian's chief concern is the seemingly-insignificant little occurrences that make up a portion of our lives. Happy times to him are of great importance because they make up the memories that see us through dark times. His philosophy rests on his belief that even the sad things in life hold the promise of better things to come. As in a boy's leaving home, (both in "Didn't Wanna Have To Do It" and "You're A Big Boy Now") the pain and anguish that marks the riff between the child and the parent are only the prelude to the boy's finding himself. Sebastian is a dreamer, a gay philosopher, a bearer of good news above all else.

His symbolical influence upon the young cannot however be relegated to merely that. As we have seen in Woodstock, where 100,000 people rose to give John Sebastian a standing ovation after two years of abstencia, he is perhaps one of the most important figureheads of the Rock Generation.

The breakup of the Beatles saw both JOHN LENNON and PAUL McCARTNEY likewise shunning public view in an attempt to individually get themselves together. (A "Big Pink", or a temporary withdrawal from public life, is common among members of defunct Rock Groups.) Both had claimed to have had their music stunted and harnessed by their association with the Beatles, and each had promised to show their true wares in due time.

LENNON had failed to make a show at first encounter. His albums with what he had called "The Plastic Ono Band" were disheartening examples of a bad, hurried start. He had managed to save the day however, after first having submitted himself to the age-old process of maturization, with a solo-album — "John Lennon: Imagine". The album contained a tidy collection of erstwhile songs, a good number of them bordering topical protest and a hint of universality, which by themselves, might have been capable of catapulting him back into the ranks of the more-important present-day songwriters. All Lennon needed however, was a "ticket" to enable him to make his return-bout. The symbolical importance he inevitably wielded as an ex-Beatle would take care of the rest.

As it had quite predictably turned out "Imagine" gave Lennon the start that he had needed. The individual cuts, most notably "Working Class Hero", "Imagine", and "How", were in fact down-to-earth Chuck-Berryish soulful soliloquies, rather shallow perhaps, but relevant enough to make a much-desired impression. Lennon's knack for publicity, his flair for controversy, his stunning candid pronouncements, and his revitalized image, will take over from here, no doubt. Lennon's image is universal defiance in the midst of confusion and chaos, and it is hard to deny the saleability of such an image.

McCARTNEY, on the other hand, plays the retiree from another side of the coin. Having established himself with the release of his very first post-Beatle album, he has since cast himself in the role of the ex-roughie turned family man. His songs recall hard times, drawing vivid pictures of a life that was as meaningless and cold as it was wanton and aimless. Now, McCartney has settled down, found himself and his purpose, and relays this through his songs. The image he springs before us is not one of surrender and resignation, but rather, one of having gone out in search of truth, having found it, and now living it. His is no less a younger sound than Lennon's. If anything at all, it is undoubtedly more refreshing, hopeful, and yes, FREE. His is not defining but understanding, something more mature, mellow and closer to self-realization.

But as opposed to Lennon, McCartney does not play the role of spokesman. In fact, he has given us serious reason to believe that he has no conscious intentions of ever again playing that part. McCartney has grown and offers to share growth. Like Dylan before him, he has matured beyond anger, musical gripes, and lyrical anarchy. The question of his relevance to the present state of the young therefore, hinges on whether or not the latter have matured enough to substitute understanding for open contempt. The fact that Dylan no longer relates to the present situation though, in his shunning of topical songs of protest, implies that such a time is not yet, if ever at all it will be, fully at hand.

III. THE NEW SCHOOL

THE NEW SCHOOL OF TOPICAL SONGWRITERS is composed of another unique breed of contemporary lyricists. Emerging AFTER the traditional phase from the various schools of music into what is now distinctly termed "Folk-Rock", the roots of their music are basically detached from the older forms, although a number of them display considerable traces of such attachments from past musical activity.

Although such a pronouncement will merit a highly negative reaction from various sectors,

JAMES TAYLOR (like NEIL YOUNG) can best be classified as a modern-day lamenter, NOT a topical songwriter or, even less, a writer of topical songs of protest. His songs represent at their very best, an abrupt return to romanticism and personalism, the two characteristic features of the "New Rock" sound. The aforementioned qualities however, are thoroughly disregarded in any analysis dealing with the positive (or commendable) qualities that can be credited to both the writer and his songs, since it is only natural for us to conclude beforehand that such qualities can be written-off as being merely elemental and/or structural in nature for both the songs under critical study as well as the form of music under which said songs are classified.

Taken out of context, Taylor's songs maintain a two-fold identity, to be more specific: PERSONALISM (which automatically graduates any song possessing this quality into the category of "New Rock) and ENVIRONMENTAL DETACHMENT (which disqualifies his songs from a more-or-less "topical" classification). A third feature of the Taylor sound, which is a general preoccupation with (or intentional priority given for) sad events directly related to the PAST, makes Taylor a LAMENTER above all else.

Taylor creates an atmosphere that depicts sad memories of times gone by; tearful experiences and the like. His themes travel constantly (at times, monotonously) along the safest possible road - that of romantic relevance. Heartbreaks, disappointments, hard-luck times are age-old as well as ageless themes. Taylor capitalizes on this almost readily. Not everyone may share Lennon's view on the radical change of values or Donovan's mental utopia, but everyone DOES experience heartbreaks and bad times. As such however, Taylor bears as little significance to the actual situation of the times as do Ricky Nelson or Frank Sinatra. His themes are neither relevant nor irrelevant in their timelessness, appealing to all and everyone because of their essential shallowness. Taylor is stagnant, viewed in this light.

In every Taylor song, he seems to say only one thing: “I have a lot of awfully sad stories to tell you. Sit down and listen.” Should such stories more, inspire or influence the reader or listener, however, it is not the result of intellectual appeasement or reflective imagery.

NEIL YOUNG on the other hand, is a lamenter of tragedies, not love stories. He has himself defined his music as “modern-day lamentation” (thus beating his critics to the punch), equating himself to the minstrels of many days gone by; which does not say much for either him or his music, by the way. His songs delve on the mourning of human tragedies, tragic occurrences (most of them not worth mentioning), and the like. Altogether dependent upon musical backing to get himself across to his audiences, he is perhaps the best replacement for Tagalog tear-jerking movies. At times, his lyrics are totally meaningless:

Oh, to live on Sugar Mountain with
the Barkers and the colored balloons
You can't be twenty on Sugar
Mountain ‘cuz you’re thinking
that you’re leaving there
too soon . . .

unless the meaning is entangled in between the verses, which does not say too much for his expressional virtues either.

In contrast to Taylor and Young, is:

CAT STEVENS. Around the charismatic sound that is Cat Stevens’, is a universality that encompasses not only theme (as Taylor's songs do), but structure as well. Stevens’ songs are an extraordinary blend of fiery protest-inspired anger and soft poeticness - a reconciliation of opposing concepts, a merging together of two completely unrelated schools, a splicing-together of clashing colours into one distinctly beautiful hue. In simplicity, Stevens has weaved a masterpiece in complex structuralism, painting with the most basic colours, a portrait of awesome magnitude.

Contact with everyday realities is not lacking in Stevens - it is the essence of his artistic expression. Reality is what gives his songs life. On his musical canvas, the characters move, talk, cry, laugh, breath, relate. With Stevens, anger is no less anger because there is no screaming to be heard, no outraged face to be seen. Emotion is communicated from within, as an inseparable part of his humanity and his being, not merely as an outward expression, a glance or a frown. This perhaps is the highest level of musical maturity attainable, a realization of boundlessness, a freedom to flow as one with one's music.

The pressure of everyday living weighs upon Stevens as heavily as it does on the ordinary individual. His awareness however, of all that surrounds him, achieves a pitch of poetic magnitude by its stunning clarity and depth. Stevens does not only see - like a small number of his contemporaries, he understands. In understanding however, one must communicate one's self and to others in abstractions or in symbolical representations. Images are no longer images in such a case, but possess their own identity, their own infinitely complex meanings that find common ground only in universality.

Like Dylan, he is sensitive enough to be angered, frightened, saddened, touched by all that goes on around him. He is directly concerned with the present - the world as seen from the eyes of a small, perhaps insignificant individual, looking out from his own small enclosure. Unlike Dylan however, the edges and jagged corners have been smoothed out; there is beauty and symmetry and soft poeticness in all that is Cat Stevens' music - lyrics and tune from one continuous flow at all times.

BY WAY OF CONCLUSION

We have gone through a more-or-less comprehensive resumé of the three distinct schools of topical songwriters, citing examples from each in order to facilitate the differentiation of types.

In the Old School, among Dylan’s contemporaries, the form that was strictly adhered to was the basic FOLK. Of these, three further subdivisions draw their own individual lines: Donovan’s positive outlook (subscribers to which were other Dylan contemporaries like Sarstedt, Payne, etc.) and the negativistic writers, typified in our exposition by Arlo Guthrie. (Other negativists are of course, P.F. Sloan, Noel McCormick, etc.) Baez, Seeger, and other neutralists form another distinct category which is classified as irrelevant in our study.

The Middlemen, mostly stragglers from defunct big-name groups are divided into those whose music is of primary importance, and those whose symbolical essence is of greater importance than their music. To illustrate this, we have contrasted Paul Simon and John Sebastian. A further division is drawn between the group whose primary importance is symbolical essence: those who subscribe to passive understanding, and those who exemplify a somewhat violent drive for tangible change. This is strikingly illustrated in John Lennon and Paul McCartney, both ex-Beatles.

The New School offers both extremes in the question of relevance. The musical norm being “Folk-Rock”, which

is a cross-section of various musical fields (in contrast with the Old School's hardline Folk, and the Middlemen's free-form music), the New School invariably has the widest range of types. However, these types can be loosely classified under two headings: lamentation and philosophical types.

In Part III, JINGLE's concluding portion of this study, the writer will closely examine the question previously posed, and attempt to answer it by tracing the line of present relevance with the various types of songwriters. From these types, one will stand to outshadow the rest.

(Conclusion Next Issue)

* * *

BOB DYLAN Part II

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ART LAB: The Syjuco Museum