Bob Dylan's voice on the radio this morning...'the answer my friend...is blowing in the wind...' still gives me a chill. Cutting, hard-edged, midwestern...the young prophet standing on the corner.
Bob says he was just doing his 'job.' The label: 'voice of a generation,' was a burden, a stone he carried around with him that had nothing to do with the man. It's just that the songs said so much, to so many. "Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me...I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to...'
He soaked it all up and gave it back in such a unique and powerful way. 'God said to Abraham, kill me a son, Abe said man, you must be putting me on...' OR 'The man standing next to me, his head was exploding, I was praying the pieces wouldn't fall on me...'
The words, the voice, unlike any other. A prophet, a poet, a walking contradiction... yes sir, Bob Dylan, that skinny little dude from Hibbing, Minnesota a conjurer, an inspirer. 'I can't help it, if I'm lucky...'