I see a lot of people As I make the rounds And I hear her name here and there As I go from town to town And I've never gotten used to it I've just learned to turn it off Either I'm too sensitive Or else I'm gettin' soft
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Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan (/ˈdɪlən/; born Robert Allen Zimmerman; May 24, 1941) is an American songwriter, singer, painter, and writer. He has been influential in popular music and culture for more than five decades. Much of his most celebrated work dates from the 1960s, when his songs chronicled social unrest. Early songs such as "Blowin' in the Wind" and "The Times They Are a-Changin'" became anthems for the Civil Rights Movement and anti-war movement. Leaving behind his initial base in the American folk music revival, his six-minute single "Like a Rolling Stone", recorded in 1965, enlarged the range of popular music. Dylan's lyrics incorporate a wide range of political, social, philosophical, and literary influences. They defied existing pop music conventions and appealed to the burgeoning counterculture. Initially inspired by the performances of Little Richard and the songwriting of Woody Guthrie, Robert Johnson, and Hank Williams, Dylan has amplified and personalized musical genres. His recording career, spanning more than 50 years, has explored the traditions in American song—from folk, blues, and country to gospel, rock and roll, and rockabilly to English, Scottish, and Irish folk music, embracing even jazz and the Great American Songbook. Dylan performs with guitar, keyboards, and harmonic
Lou Levy, top man of Leeds Music Publishing company, took me up in a taxi to the Pythian Temple on West 70th Street to show me the pocket sized recording studio where Bill Haley and His Comets had recorded 'Rock Around the Clock'—then down to Jack Dempsey's restaurant on 58th and Broadway, where we…
Some people seem to fade away but then when they are truly gone, it’s like they didn’t fade away at all.
Early one mornin' the sun was shinin', I was layin' in bed—wondrin' if she'd changed at all, if her hair was still red.
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 everyone of them words rang true And glowed like burnin'…
Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet.
Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet? We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it. Lights flicker from the opposite loft In this room the heat pipes just cough The country music…