Why he won

She lit a burner on the stove
And offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello" she said
"You look like the silent type"
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burning coal
Pouring off of every page
Like it was written in my soul
From me to you
Tangled up in blue

People tell me it's a sin
To know and feel too much within
I still believe she was my twin
But I lost the ring
She was born in spring
But I was born too late
Blame it on a simple twist of fate

Life is sad
Life is a bust
All you can do is do what you must
You do what you must do and you do it well
I’ll do it for you, honey baby
Can’t you tell?

Praise be to Nero’s Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
Everybody’s shouting
“Which side are you on?”
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain’s tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row

We carried you in our arms
On Independence Day
And now you'd throw us all aside
And put us on our way
Oh, what dear daughter 'neath the sun
Would treat a father so
To wait upon him hand and foot
And always tell him "No?"

Tears of rage, tears of grief
Why am I the one who must be the thief ?
Come to me now, you know
We're so alone
And life is brief.

We pointed out the way to go
And scratched your name in sand
Though you just thought that it was nothing more
Than a place for you to stand
Now I want you to know that while you watched
You discover there was no one true
Must everybody really thought
It was a childish thing to do

Tears of rage, tears of grief
Why am I the one who must be the thief ?
Come to me now, you know
We're so alone
And life is brief.

It was all very painless
When you went out to receive
All that false instruction
Which we never could believe
And now the heart is filled with gold
As if it was a purse
But oh, what kind of love is this
Which goes from bad to worse ?

Tears of rage, tears of grief
Why am I the one who must be the thief ?
Come to me now, you know
We're so alone
And life is brief.

[Verse 1]
"There must be some way out of here"
Said the joker to the thief
"There's too much confusion
I can't get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine
Plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line
Know what any of it is worth"

[Verse 2]
"No reason to get excited"
The thief, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely, now
The hour is getting late"

[Verse 3]
All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants, too
Outside, in the distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
The wind began to howl

I get that he has a very methodical and distinctive style, and greatly influenced American music, but some of his lyrics are honestly godawful. I prefer Tom Waits and Neil Young before Dylan, most any day.

This is amazing

Not even the best verse in the song desu

So now I'm goin' back again
Gotta get to her somehow
All the people we used to know
They're illusions to me now
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives
Don't how it all got started
Don't know what they're doing with their lives
Me, I'm still on the road
Headed for another joint
We always did feel the same
We just saw from a different point of view
Tangled up in blue

This really isn't that great. So I guess this is why he won

>She a coal burner on the stove
what did he mean by this?

Not sure if OP is trolling or not, but this is now a post good Dylan stuff thread.

"
You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun
Look out the saints are comin’ through
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense
Take what you have gathered from coincidence
The empty-handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets
This sky, too, is folding under you
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home
All your reindeer armies, are all going home
The lover who just walked out your door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor
The carpet, too, is moving under you
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you
Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who’s rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start anew
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue
"

"
My love she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence
She doesn’t have to say she’s faithful
Yet she’s true, like ice, like fire
People carry roses
Make promises by the hours
My love she laughs like the flowers
Valentines can’t buy her

In the dime stores and bus stations
People talk of situations
Read books, repeat quotations
Draw conclusions on the wall
Some speak of the future
My love she speaks softly
She knows there’s no success like failure
And that failure’s no success at all

The cloak and dagger dangles
Madams light the candles
In ceremonies of the horsemen
Even the pawn must hold a grudge
Statues made of matchsticks
Crumble into one another
My love winks, she does not bother
She knows too much to argue or to judge

The bridge at midnight trembles
The country doctor rambles
Bankers’ nieces seek perfection
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring
The wind howls like a hammer
The night blows cold and rainy
My love she’s like some raven
At my window with a broken wing
"

Main reason he won is Hendrix's guitar solo on 'There Must Be Some Kind Of Way Out Of Here'

No matter how much bad stuff Dylan has written, he solidly earned his place in poetic history by writing some of the most hallucinatorily vivid verse this side of The Iliad.

For example:

"I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard"

Or:

"
In the city’s melted furnace unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowing rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
"

He also had a talent for social/psychological criticism:

"
Advertising signs they con
You into thinking you’re the one
That can do what’s never been done
That can win what’s never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you
"

And he was also capable of writing direct, heartfelt lyrics (or at least ones that did a great job of seeming direct and heartfelt):

"
Well, if you’re traveling in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine

Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm
To keep her from the howling winds

Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
If it rolls and flows all down her breast.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
That’s the way I remember her best.

I’m wondering if she remembers me at all
Many times I’ve often prayed
In the darkness of my night
In the brightness of my day

So if you’re traveling in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
"

Great post user. His oeuvre covers the whole range of human experiences. I just wish everyone would dig a little deeper than 'muh surreal lyrics'

both great as well

>I just wish everyone would dig a little deeper than 'muh surreal lyrics'
Agreed. The man wrote some striking, inspired stuff. And, while probably most of his work is significantly weaker without musical accompaniment, there are enough exceptions that he can fairly be considered a significant poet.
He also had the rare talent of being able to write stuff that seems like it's been around for hundreds of years. There are a number of songs that could be mis-identified as traditional were it not known that Dylan wrote them.

my favorite meme

>be 17
>love bob dylan very much
>write "Bob Dylan" on white Tshirt and wear around Washington DC while on vacation
>in natural history museum or something
>just sort of looking around on my own, room full of cool rocks and crystals
>qt3.14 blonde girl comes up to me and shoves my arm playfully
>i think she mistook me for someone that she knows
>she says "i love your shirt"
>dont understand then remember im wearing the ol Bob D Tee
>i mutter oh thanks or something
>she says "yeah i love Bob Dylan so much"
>looks at me expectantly, i dont know what to do, stand for several seconds of tense silence sweatingman.jpeg
>say W-well t-thanks aha and speedwalk away
>still feel the glow of her touch on my arm, think of her the rest of the day
>listen to Blood On the Tracks on the car ride home
>whenever i hear Tangled Up in Blue it reminds me of that moment, the highlight of my life
>tfw had something truly miraculous happen
>tfw blew it cause khv sperg
>tfw still khv 5 yrs later
>still like Bob Dylan but not as much as i used to

The only time you can be brave is when you're afraid, you should've said something, redeem your worthless life and go talk to every girl you see, fuck your way back to her

>used to date Joan Baez
>always avoiding journalist's answers
He's actually the man behind the Pynch

“Shelter from the Storm”
>Suddenly I turned around and she was standin’ there
>With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
>She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
>”Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm”

“Tangled Up in Blue”
>Then she opened up a book of poems
>And handed it to me
>Written by an Italian poet
>From the thirteenth century
>And every one of them words rang true
>And glowed like burnin’ coal
>Pourin’ off of every page
>Like it was written in my soul from me to you

“I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine” reminds me of this

“Boots of Spanish Leather” is one of the most timeless songs I’ve ever heard.

Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean
I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss
For that’s all I’m wishin’ to be ownin’
That I might be gone a long time
And it’s only that I’m askin’
Is there something I can send you to remember me by
To make your time more easy passin’

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again
It only brings me sorrow
The same thing I want from you today
I would want again tomorrow

Bob didn’t actually care about the Nobel, you can tell from his speech which was mostly plagiarized from Sparknotes.

He knows awards like this are empty, and that the only true measure of greatness is what lasts as time passes. Maybe he even was disappointed to be recognized because most of the Nobel winners do not actually end up being the greats of their time.

Bob was well versed in literature, he obsessively read and reread the KJV Bible, as well as Dante, Vergil, Chaucer, and Shakespeare. If you search his lyrics you will find it abounding with literary references.

His whole life has been about creating a “myth” of himself. That’s why he changed his name, made up stories about where he came from, how stories were written, he wanted to create a mythical idea of himself because he realized that’s part of what made people like Vergil and Shakespeare immortal. Chronicles is probably half a lie but it’s a good mythical story of a legend.

"
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
"

good greentext

Love this song, but what the heck is he getting at? Is there an interpretive key?

reminder that the bands version of this is the second greatest song of all time

many people say that it's about the vietnam war and the general progressive movements in the late 60's. He's saying that he feels his generation didn't achieve what the past generation laid down for them to achieve. It's pretty bleak that he'd write something like that at that time. I think the spark for the song was China getting the bomb.

According to Jules Siegel, when Pynchon learned Siegel was going to interview Dylan, he told him he should interview the Beach Boys instead

yeah their version is pretty amazing. I like the basement version as well. Dylan sounds heartbroken. You can hear his voice cracking on certain lines. The band took it to a whole different level tho.

Yeah, I remember that. But honestly, it's quite possible that Dylan and Pynchon at least frequented the same circles, considering Pynchon lived with Fariña, who married Dylan's gf sister.
I doubt Pynchon likes him though. Hell, he's one of my favourite musicians but Iwould absolutely not want to hang out with Bob.

k, that's something to mull over. thanks.

>Written by an Italian poet
>From the thirteenth century

boccaccio a shit

>But honestly, it's quite possible that Dylan and Pynchon at least frequented the same circles, considering Pynchon lived with Fariña, who married Dylan's gf sister.

Reminds me -- the (nonfiction) book Positively Fourth Street by Hadju is a treat for Dylan fans. It's like cake and ice cream. It's absolutely delicious.

And the first volume of Dylan's memoirs - name escapes me - is a pleasure to read. No ghost writer here. This is the man's voice in all its peculiarity and distinctness. Volume two when?

Sorry but that is shit

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle like a gypsy queen
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle all dressed in green
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle ’til the moon is blue
Wiggle ’til the moon sees you

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle in your boots and shoes
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, you got nothing to lose
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle like a swarm of bees
Wiggle on your hands and knees

Wiggle to the front, wiggle to the rear
Wiggle ’til you wiggle right out of here
Wiggle ’til it opens, wiggle ’til it shuts
Wiggle ’til it bites, wiggle ’til it cuts

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle like a bowl of soup
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle like a rolling hoop
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle like a ton of lead
Wiggle—you can raise the dead

Wiggle ’til you’re high, wiggle ’til you’re higher
Wiggle ’til you vomit fire
Wiggle ’til it whispers, wiggle ’til it hums
Wiggle ’til it answers, wiggle ’til it comes

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle like satin and silk
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle like a pail of milk
Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, rattle and shake
Wiggle like a big fat snake

>He doesn't get it

Don't worry brainlet, you will soon xD

Same here.
The guy seems to never really have been all that comfortable with being "Bob Dylan" until he hit his 60s-70s and realized that he didn't have to take it all that seriously even if lots of other people did. Before that, he just took out all his shit on other people.

Now Leonard Cohen seems to have been bro-tier from the start. Would have loved to hang with him back when he was chilling in Greece back in the 60s.

The guilty undertaker sighs
The lonesome organ grinder cries
The silver saxophones say I should refuse you
The cracked bells and washed-out horns
Blow into my face with scorn
But it's not that way
I wasn't born to lose you

Not a big Dylan fan, he can hit some good places.
From Love Minus Zero:
My love, she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence.
She doesn't have to say she's faithful
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses
And make promises by the hours
My love laughs like the flowers
Valentines can't buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations
People talk of situations
Read books, repeat quotations
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future
My love, she speaks softly
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.