Dylan Explores Philosophy of Song

By ROB PATTERSON

Bob Dylan is the gift that keeps on giving us a bounty of brilliance. That’s why his recent book “The Philosophy of Modern Song” is more than just a tome to maybe check out from the library and read, or even enjoy as an eBook. It’s a treasure to be owned and cherished in analog printed book form.

The core reason to own and read this book is his wisdom about and appreciation of the art of the song – something he understands as well as any man alive (as Bob’s Nobel Prize and stunning catalog of compositions attests). And then there’s his keen, clever, playful, and witty way with the language alongside a broad and deep cultural sensibility. In short, “The Philosophy of Modern Song” is a delightful read. To put it mildly.

What Dylan says about the broad swath of songs he addresses – from Stephen Foster’s “Nelly Was a Lady” done by country-blues seer Alvin Youngblood Hart to Elvis Costello’s “Pump It Up” to master pop tunesmith Jimmy Webb’s own take on his “By the Time I Get to Phoenix” to The Grateful Dead’s “Truckin’” to Dean Martin crooning the Rodgers and Hart gem “Blue Moon” to The Who’s “My Generation,” and much in between – makes me think of the key phrase in Bob’s “Like a Rolling Stone:” “How does it feel ...?” Interestingly, I’d frequently invoke that line as an editor with my writers as what I want to read in their music reviews.

Though, yeah, the book may be short on actual philosophy of song (no matter), what you largely get is ruminations on and evocations from the songs Dylan writes about. For instance. Bob nails the primal aching in Eddy Arnold’s 1956 hit “You Don’t Know Me:” “You’ve got a great yearning and a hunger, a mad crush on someone, but she doesn’t know you.”

He notes how Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti” and its “A-wop-bop-a-lou-bop-a-wop” line “took speaking in tongues right out of the sweaty canvas tent and put it on the mainstream radio, even screamed like a holy preacher – which is what he was.” And in the same paragraph surmises that the women Little Richard mentions, Daisy and Sue, are transvestites, and the “Frutti” in the title alludes to him being, in the parlance of the day, “fruity” or gay. (Shhh! Don’t tell the anti-LGBTQ+ GOP right-wing haters. They’ll probably try to ban the seminal rock’n’roll rave-up 68 years after it was first released.)

Dylan opens his essay on Johnny Cash’s “Big River” with the observation that “Well-meaning people can suffocate you with praise,” something he could write a thick Masters thesis if not entire book about from his own personal experience. When he addresses “Truckin’” by The Grateful Dead, he observes that they are “essentially a dance band.

Every essay is loaded with smart observations, delightful wordplay and engaging observations. Epiphanies abound throughout. He gets down into such meat of the matters such as context, intent, meaning and effect, along with various contextual, historical and biographical elements. It all adds up to demonstrate the profound effect that great songs can have on heart, soul and imagination of listeners. An alternate title of this tome could easily be the “The Power of Modern Song,” a phenomenon that wooed me into its sway back when I got my first transistor radio at the juncture of 1958 and ‘59.

Another key reason to own this book is the lively and quite artful graphics that grace every page. The pictures accompanying most songs are not tied in any literal way to the number itself or its singers and writers, but instead are allusive and evocative representations that attest to the magic within songs that summons up emotions and imagery in one’s mind.

Yet again, Dylan proves his impressive artistry not only as, at 81 years old, a highly active recording and performing artist of the highest order – as I like to say, when it comes to songwriting, there’s Bob Dylan, and then there’s everyone else – but a canny, literate, entertaining and informative author and a prolific and gifted painter.

He is the greatest American seer of our modern times, and anyone who appreciates great songs and recordings should get, read and savor “The Philosophy of Modern Song.” To adapt a quote from Neil Young, one of the few musical songsmiths and artists whose accumulated greatness approaches Dylan’s, long may he continue to run.

Movie: “Cocaine Bear” – If gore, blood and violence don’t repel you, this absurdist romp loosely based on a true story is utterly delightful and a source of deep and frequent laughs. If you’ve known people who were “blowhounds,” as the slang goes, or have yourself snorted or even smoked it – guilty as charged here, in my younger, wilder years – the black bear “gacked up” on smuggled bricks of coke thrown from a plane into a national forest and its rampage against humans abounds with the known effects of the potent power. With such superb thespians as Keri Russell, Margo Martindale and the late Ray Liotta (in his last film role), this wild and wacky bit of entertainment also boasts cinematic and dramatic merit.

DOCUMENTARY: “Pretty Baby: Brooke Shields” – The realm of young actors who find fame as children or teens is littered with casualties. Shields has a history and filmography that could easily have felled lesser souls: Starring as a youngster in highly-sexualized movies like “Pretty Baby” and “The Blue Lagoon” as well as racy Calvin Klein jeans adds and a all-but-umbilically-linked show-biz mother and manager who was an alcoholic control-freak, she could have flamed out. But her natural smarts and grounding helped her earn a Princeton degree and mature into a wise, classy insightful woman at peace with her past.

Rob Patterson is a music and entertainment writer in Austin, Texas. Email robpatterson054@gmail.com.

From The Progressive Populist, July 1-15, 2023

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