Just like Corina; where ‘he’ been so long?Laying mortar on the Village folk scene he morphed, Dylan took the click and clank of the typewriter, the cheap street speed and burned cigarettes; one song to the immortal next. This, ‘The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan’. Let’s start with the tongue and cheek and work to the thicker meat.
‘Bob Dylan’s Blues’ talks its way to the times and mores of a cultures fiction and non. ‘Talkin’ World War Three Blues’ talks its way through pinkos, paranoia and the ignorance and judgement of McCarthyism at its strongest stench. Right on time. ‘I Shall Be Free’, a ramble of lyrics, juvenile yet dealing with adult matters.
Now the girth of the matter. ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’, an epic treaty with man’s consciousness between reality and the ideal. Unsettled treaty at best, if I may. ‘Masters of War’ singes the skin of the political and finances behind the spill of war blood. The speaker refuses to even have a child knowing the wolves will always be at the window. Moreover songs like ‘Oxford Town’ uncover the perils of racism as songs like ‘Don’t Think Twice’ uncover the perils of a relationship down the ditch.
Once again blindsiding the ears of his contemporaries, Dylan steps out in boots and steps on the toes of modern pop music. Elevating the song to reach the mind and the air of spirit; to cry to laugh. Last mention, button your shirt, hold back your heart and look for the ‘Girl From the North Country.” If you see her say hello; Dylan did and shook our hand with this album. A promise to be a shepard of verse and thought.
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