The first time I heard Bob Dylan, I was in Seattle, 16 years old and riding in the passenger seat as my dad drove down Roosevelt on the way home from Scarecrow Video. We were listening to an oldies station, which had recently shifted from the ‘50s and ‘60s to the ‘60s and ‘70s. At the time, my taste in music was somewhere in the Venn overlap of Billie Holiday and Pulp. My dad had taught me about energetic musicians, Aretha Franklin and Janis Joplin, but my heart was still most accessible to somebody moody singing about a grudge. Outside the car there was city darkness: neon signs and bright purple sky. “Lay Lady Lay” came on the radio and it felt like a searchlight had been switched on shining directly into my eyes, an almost unbearable sense of significance. I think I said something like “What’s this?” to my dad—I meant “WHAT IS THIS”—and he said, “It’s Bob Dylan but it’s not his best album.” Less than 24 hours later, I had my own Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan CD. That’s how I became the last person on the planet to discover that Bob Dylan is really, really, really good. The… Read full this story
- On the Road With Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and the Rolling Thunder Revue
- Playlist: The 20 best albums from 1968
- Don’t Stop Using the Term ‘Cancel Culture’
- Jack Savoretti's latest album is the essence of European holidays
- D’Angelo F-cking Loves Playing ‘Red Dead Redemption 2’
- The Emancipation of Steven Tyler
How I Changed My Mind About Bob Dylan have 255 words, post on jezebel.com at September 6, 2016. This is cached page on CHUTEU. If you want remove this page, please contact us.