Don’t Think Twice

 

In the run up to Bob Dylan’s 80^th birthday, there have been dozens of articles offering praise, trivia and insights.  As a fan, of course I read them.

 

One of the more interesting tidbits I picked up was the notion that Dylan’s songs are paintings.  You don’t have to understand them.  You don’t even have to like them.  You only have to know whether they speak to you.

 

Speaking for myself, they do.  Yeah, they do.

Three Chords and the Truth

All I’ve got is a red guitar, three chords and the truth

All I’ve got is a red guitar, the rest is up to you

The above lyric, inserted into U2’s rendition of Dylan’s All Along the Watchtower, got me thinking about the power of music and art to rise above simple entertainment and get us worked up about serious issues.

OK, I’m as guilty as the next person as far as not wanting to be lectured, and sometimes musicians, actors, etc. can get a bit too full of themselves.  But I’ve never subscribed to the notion that artists should just shut up and perform.  As Neil Young would say, “What?  Just because I’m a singer means I’m not entitled to an opinion?”

Anyway, if art is a reflection of life, how can art not be making a statement?

So here’s to Bono, and Dylan, and Lennon, and Springsteen, and Young, and Woody, and Marley, and all the other cats that have the courage to tell it like it is.

The rest is up to us.

When I Paint My Masterpiece

Gibson’s list of 10 Iconic Album Covers reminds us of perhaps the best thing about vinyl. 

Here’s the list:

The Beatles, Abbey Road

The Clash, London Callling

Green Day, Dookie

Guns N’ Roses, Appetite for Destruction

Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin

Michael Jackson, Thriller

Nirvana, Nevermind

Pearl Jam, Ten

Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon

OK, I know CD’s ruled by the time Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Green Day came along, but you get my point.  Album art – and it was art – had such a bigger impact when the real estate was, well, bigger.

Great album covers don’t just inform or appeal, they make a statement.  So all of the ones on the list are deserving.  As the article says, whittling it down to a list of only 10 is a tall order.  Sgt. Pepper, Rubber Soul or With the Beatles were also super icons, and Zep 4 easily rivals Zep 1, but let’s not quibble.  Great album art made great albums even better, providing another way to enjoy, to savour, to immerse oneself.

I know we have videos and websites and tweets and all that, but it’s not the same as a 12-x12 piece of cardboard you can hold in your hands.  It’s not as personal.

Let’s Dance

The professors will tell you that performing arts  - music, dance, theatre – all have their origins in religious ritual.

I can’t make a direct connection with theatre, but with music and dance I think it’s less about story-telling and more about timeless, primal forces that come from within.

Can anything express emotion as succinctly as a song?  And when it comes to joy, can anything top dancing?  But which is the chicken and which is the egg?

It struck me a few weeks ago during a gig when I was enjoying watching the crowd dance the night away.  I realized these people weren’t dancing because they were happy, they were happy because they were dancing. 

Sure, alcohol and maybe other substances were involved – but it wasn’t mindless goofiness.  These people were disconnected from their everyday worries, but they were also connected to something more basic, more powerful.  The dancing took them there.  And their smiles were louder than the band.  Then again  …  they were momentarily carefree, and the happiness caused them to dance.  Maybe dancing and happiness are the same thing.

However it works, it’s a powerful, life-affirming force.  No wonder the shamans got involved.

The Agony and the Ecstasy

A few months ago I was outside enjoying a sunset. I thought came into my head.  “Oh,” I said to myself.  “That’s a cool idea for a song.”

Immediately, and I mean right then, a melody popped into my head.  I went inside, went to the piano, and a complete song rolled off my fingers.  Wow!  Now all I needed were the lyrics.

That was three months ago.  I still have no lyrics, despite hours of effort.

You see, the words that came to me sound cool, but I don’t know what they mean.  I know they mean something, but I can’t figure out where to start.  I’ve pushed in a bunch of different directions – love, philosophy, history, religion, nature, all kinds of ideas from the sacred to the profane - but no go.

I feel like Michelangelo trying to free the figures slumbering in the stone.  I know those words are in there somewhere, but so far my hands haven’t broken the spell.  Sigh.

I’ll just keep fussing with it until the right words reveal themselves.  I have to.  It’s a catchy tune.

What About Now?

Well, that’s all there is, right?

As Robbie Robertson sings: forget about tomorrow, don’t talk of yesterday; it’s too far away.

And does anything snap us into the moment as quickly, as forcefully, as completely, as music?  Not for me.

Ya, the big goal, the killer homerun, the nail-biting election; they’re pretty intense.  And all successful art makes you stop and think – and feel.  But music reigns supreme.  It takes you out of time and puts you in the moment.

You can feel energy you didn’t know you had in you, experience a dormant emotion, or get deep into an idea you didn’t care about.

You dance; you sing along, you listen.  Music is immediate, overpowering, total.  There’s nothing like it.

Music is right now.

What Pilate Said

John Lennon famously said, " Say what you mean, make it rhyme, and give it a backbeat."

And I agree. I also agree in "three chords and the truth," wherever that quote came from.

But what is truth? And which truth? One single truth? Multiple truths hidden in multiple layers? A vague truth anyone can relate to? A personal truth? A universal truth? A cliche?

It's been said that great art makes you say, "ya, that's how I feel." Sometimes, say in a straightforward protest or love song, the point is obvious. Sometimes, though, not so much.

And maybe it's not clear to the songwriter either. I know when the words for one of my songs started coming to me, I thought it was about unrequited love. By the time I'd written it all down, I decided it was more about loss of faith. By the time I'd recorded it, I was wondering if it was some kind of commentary on the futility of hero worship.

The lyrics work on all three levels, but who knows what I meant? Not me.

Maybe that's a good thing, because it frees the listener to infer his/her own meaning, and make his/her own emotional connection to the song.

I know that some of the songs I have the strongest reactions to defy explanation. Lots of songs tighten my chest and open my tear ducts. Happy tears? Remorseful tears? Bitter tears? I never know. If you were to ask me why I'm reacting, all can explain is, "this song just gets to me."

So maybe truth isn't enough. Truth is meaningless without audience participation.