art. music. insight.

I recently had the opportunity to hear an art therapist tell stories about her education, career and clients. She shared pieces from folks she has worked with that either left an impression on the client or on her or on both and it was clear that these simple drawings, illustrations and collages had opened a door to a deeper connection, one that probably would not have been possible with words alone. My classmates and I were invited to participate in this phenomena by simply drawing what our "weather" looked like that day using markers and a blank sheet of paper. Without really even thinking I took to the task and found that it was not hard to translate my emotions into colors and shapes. Before I knew it I had illustrated a story that summed up my entire week, my emotional landscape and my physical health. And the really sneaky part? When asked to interpret my drawing to others I readily divulged a bunch of personal information that I probably would not have considered sharing with anyone otherwise. It really snuck up on me, but it was actually totally natural and I was left in awe at the power of this simple idea.

Later, the connection between art therapy and music was made clear to me. I suddenly understood that I connect to music in much the same way folks connect to the art they create from their feelings. What "moves" me about certain songs or artists is how they somehow represent the things I'm feeling, the mood I'm in, the thoughts I've had or the things I've done. Sometimes this happens in the lyrics. Other times it's hidden in the music itself, somehow intertwined with the instrumentation. This realization has caused me to be more thoughtful in my approach to music and it has made me more intentional in my listening, something I wasn't sure was possible. I've started choosing one song each day as a sort of theme, something that both summarizes where I am emotionally at the time and also appeals to my ears that day. I've found that some songs are sticking with me across several days, in some cases weeks. I carry them with me for a while until the time when I've moved on, of sorts. Then I find a new song. I thought maybe I'd share some of the music that has been a theme for me in one way or another recently. I'll refrain of explaining all the reasons why, mostly because that feels too intimate, but also because a lot of times I don't ask myself to find all the answers. Sometimes I don't know, and that's okay.

Arcade Fire - "We Used to Wait" from the The Suburbs (2010)

I guess I feel like I've done a lot of waiting recently. I think I'm understanding that in some way, the waiting never stops. There is always something to wait for and in many ways, the anticipation is what keeps me going.

J. Tillman - "Year in the Kingdom" from Year in the Kingdom (2009)

This one came up on shuffle last week and I was reminded of how Josh's music finds a way to cut to the core of me. There is a certain kind of melancholy in his voice. It's sad and sweet at the same time.

The Radio Dept. - "A Token of Gratitude" from Clinging to a Scheme (2010)

It's definitely the music I connect to on this one. I think it's mostly the pulsing fog horn sound. I can't really explain it. It's one of the mysteries I've accepted.

Twin Shadow - "I Can't Wait" from Forget (2010)

If "We Used to Wait" is the positive side of waiting, I suppose this is the negative. Waiting is hard and I wish it was over. I like the sleepy dance party feel. Can. We. Please. Gohomealready.

going to sleep

I don't fall asleep to music often but recently I had the urge so, I turned on a record that I don't listen to nearly enough and curled up in bed. Before I knew it I was off to dreamland (which is where former high school classmates meet on submarines to discuss the current state of cd manufacturing and make light hearted jokes about the fact that I'm not wearing any pants while I aimlessly wonder around the room trying to find some very important piece of paper on which I've scribbled the names of my unborn children). The record I'm talking about is called Thom's Night Out. It has nothing to do with Thom Yorke, at least as far as I know. No, it has much more to do with wailing strings and rumbling percussion and pulsing bassoons. The band that recorded this record is called Clogs.

Now, I'll tell you what drew me to this record in this moment, when I decided I would let guitars, violins and pianos lull me to sleep instead of sirens, buses and occasional yelling-into-cell-phone-passerby. Clogs is made up of four members. One of them happens to be Bryce Dessner. Don't know who he is? Well, perhaps you should. He and his twin brother, Aaron, play in another little band called The National. Since I have a not so subtle obsession with The National I was naturally interested in hearing what Clogs have to say. That turns out to be next to nothing because Clogs is an instrumental band, one that sounds very little like The National. It also turns out that Clogs pre-date The National in both real life and in my music catalog. I've had two of their albums for a couple of years now and have never really bothered to get to know them. This is a reoccurring problem for me. Does it bother me? No. I've got so much music just lying around it's become a treasure hunt. Sometimes I never know what I will stumble upon.

So, here's the deal with Thom's Night Out. It's all hand drums and violas and Middle Eastern rhythms. It's almost classical, but really more post rock, in the same vein as Rachel's. It's sweet and scary and dark and alluring all at once. Whoever Thom is, I imagine that his night out was in a place like Morocco or Damascus. When I think of Morocco I think of the Dave Eggers novel You Shall Know Our Velocity!, which is about two friends who decide they'd like to travel around the world and give away cash. I don't remember much about it except that I liked it and that they have some adventures in Morocco. When I think of Damascus I tend to think of the most excellent soft serve at Jimme Cone (check out the guy who complains about it melting too fast) in the heart of Damascus, Maryland...not Syria. (By the way is it jimmies or sprinkles??) In neither of those places do I imagine someone named Thom. But here's where things come together. While listening to this album I was lulled to sleep and encouraged to dream, and in the wonderful world of dreams I can order soft serve at Jimmie Cone in Morocco from a dude named Thom and it's totally normal.

If you can get your hands on this album, do it. Then listen to "Sadness & Obsession" and tell me that at around the three minute mark the growling bassoon doesn't sound like an Egyptian tiger purring while enjoying a chocolate and vanilla swirl with rainbow sprinkles.

Clogs - Thom's Night Out (2001)

no sleep. just beats. pt 2

For one reason or another I haven't been getting much sleep lately. I'll get home from a late class close to 11pm and instead of turning in I crack open a beer and watch consecutive episodes of Entourage. What is wrong with me? No joke, that's a question I have been asking myself a lot lately. Self diagnosis is my new favorite past time. In fact, that may be one of the contributing factors to my sleepiness. I'm analyzing everything these days. So, why not continue that trend with music?

I want to share three more lesser known rap records. I'd venture to say these three are even more overlooked than the Pharcyde, Digable Planets and Gravediggaz albums mentioned previously. Those had commercial appeal on some level. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you see things), the three discussed in this post have never had a radio hit and are really in the "underground" sub genre. If you ask me, it is not easy to find decent rap music down there in the underground, but these three really shine.



Viktor Vaughn - Vaudeville Villain (2003)

You may know him better as MF Doom. Of three albums listed here, his name is likely most familiar. Doom has had some strong success over the past few years. It hasn't hurt that he's made friends with some rather famous artists like Danger Mouse, Madlib, Ghostface and the late-great J Dilla, but the truth is that Doom can get the job done without any of them. Vaudeville Villain is proof of that. One of his first titles not to be self produced, Doom enlists relative unknowns (except for the brilliant RJD2) to tweak the knobs on this first release under the Viktor Vaughn moniker. The result is one of the most cohesive and consistent albums of his career (to go along with Operation Doomsday and Madvillainy).

Don't let all the dark language fool you though. True to his style, the rhymes are all over the map, displaying a certain degree of attention deficit in the best possible way. It's really no wonder why he and Ghostface get along so well. Vaudeville Villain is sharp and witty with dense atmosphere and lacks the too frequent vocal sampling that often plague some of Doom's other work. Overall it's the tight production, the creative sense of humor and the non-stop flow that make this one such a winner.




Shape of Broad Minds - Craft of the Lost Art (2007)

On this one Jneiro Jarel, who is one interesting dude, actually splits himself into several parts to create a "group" of three alter egos: Dr. Who Dat, Panama Black and Rocque One. Did you get that? We're talking about one guy pretending to be three different people who compose the rap group Shape of Broad Minds. That fact alone was enough to peak my interest. As it turns out, it's not just the concept for the group that is a bit bizarre but the overall sound and format is kinda out there. I think you could easily say it sounds like no other rap album you've heard.

Jarel has done work with a myriad of artists whose sound ranges from zombie rock to southern funk and he somehow manages to sprinkle all of those influences into Craft of Lost Art to create a perfect blend. This is not an easy listen, however, which is probably one of it's strengths. Dr. Who Dat will challenge your perception of hip-hop. Contributing instrumentalist Jawwaad Taylor highlights rhythms and melodies in a bold, unique way. Panama Black spits a steady flow over dark basement tracks, sparse outer space jams and jazzy tunes. If Goodie Mob, J Dilla, and TV On The Radio birthed a schizophrenic baby it might come out sounding something like Shape of Broad Minds.




Blu & Exile - Below the Heavens (2007)

Blu most recently turned up on the excellent How I Got Over from the Roots and I was pleased to see our hometown heroes giving some love to this slept on LA rapper. Although he's been involved with several other projects since '07 none of them showcase his talent like Below the Heavens. Here, Exile (one half of the duo Emanon) takes care of the production allowing Blu to lay down some of the most insightful and entertaining rhymes of the past five years. Think of him as a more charming, more talented Lupe Fiasco (no offense to Lupe, I'm a fan). The album sounds as hopeful as Blu appears on the cover, regardless of the subject matter. Blu has a way of delivering lines that despite the containing the occasional poison still taste like candy. Take "Blu Collar Worker" for example. The sun is shining, Blu is putting in work, telling all the gold digging ladies he doesn't have time for them in rather stern words but you'll still find yourself bouncing along with a smile on your face. He's gifted and I'm still hoping the dude finds himself in a position to reach a larger audience.

Now, I'm planning to go home, turn on the Phillies game and fall asleep (certainly not due to lack of interest). We'll see how that goes.

no sleep. just beats.

I should be reading about the theory and practice of group psychotherapy right now but instead I have decided to write about three of my favorite hip-hop records. In my opinion, they're a bit underrated and perhaps even overlooked. I've thought about making this a multi-post feature and I just might do that but for now I've got three solid ones I want to talk about.



The Pharcyde - Labcabincalifornia (1995)

Most folks remember the Pharcyde for smokin' a lot of dope and the classic hit "Passin' Me By." That track is definitely one of the best rap songs of the '90s. It came from their debut album Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde in 1992 which was, in fact, bizarre as well as witty and fun and goofy - kind of what you would expect from a bunch of tree smoking MCs with names like Bootie Brown and Fatlip. For their follow up they enlisted the now legendary Jay Dee (aka J Dilla) to handle most of the production and in my opinion, he helped take them to the next level. Labcabincalifornia didn't sell as well and the singles "Runnin'" and "Drop" never quite reached the same cross over status as "Passin' Me By" but this album is strong front to back. The then unknown Dilla provided some really dope beats and the backwards, Spike Jonez directed video for "Drop" is fantastic. That's not to mention the strength of their flow and their cohesion as a group. No, they're not the most technically proficient rhyme sayers out there but they're capable of telling some good stories. It's too bad that they smoked themselves into oblivion after this one "dropped."




Digable Planets - Blowout Comb (1994)

Here's another album that gets overshadowed by it's predecessor. The DPs are known for their debut Reachin (A New Refutation of Time and Space) and the massive hit "Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat)." Again, that's a great album and deserves its praise, but Blowout Comb is probably one of my favorite rap albums of all time and I think it comes down to one word: jazz. It was self produced and loaded with jazzy samples and layered melodies. The keys on "Jettin'" stand out. The bass and rhythm on "Dial 7 (Axioms of Creamy Spies)" and "Blowing Down" and infectious. They managed to tie it all together so nicely and each track compliments their soft, smooth rhyme style perfectly. I, for one, was sad to see them split after this gem.




Gravediggaz - 6 Feet Deep (1994)

For each of the nine members of the Wu-Tang Clan there were probably twice as many side projects. Wu-Tang affiliated releases seemed to hit the shelves every other month throughout the '90s. Most of them were yawn worthy. Sorry, but Sunz of Man and Killarmy were just boring. Although the RZA is probably the household name in this group, producer Prince Paul is the man responsible for putting it all together. Paul (the Undertaker), best known for his work with De La Soul, managed to carve out some really dark and spooky tracks here and the three MCs laid down some spine tingling horror stories. The result is probably the only album from the short lived horrorcore fad worth listening to (no apologies to all you Insane Clown Posse crazies). The RZA (Rzarector), Fukwan (Gatekeeper) and Poetic (Grym Reaper) managed to sound equally psychotic and humorous. That's quite a feat considering the overriding subject is death. Poetic, who has since passed after a battle with colon cancer, really stands out here. He sounds certifiable but can ride a beat with the best of them. If you're into the Wu or you just like unique and creative rap music, this is a must.

Sweet dreams!

be still.

It's a strange thing that in a city with a million and half people living on top of one another so many of us still suffer from an epidemic of loneliness. We deal with other people every day, at work, on the street, in our commute, yet at the end of the day we feel alone. The ways in which we can interact with each other are ever expanding but we so rarely make an actual connection with another human and we feel increasing unknown. Perhaps that's the issue right there. We want to be known. We don't just want to have a laugh over drinks or discuss the news. Those things are fun, but leave us wanting something more, something deeper. That wanting tugs and pulls at us, it grows into a desperation, and we start to feel like being alone is torture and it's not normal and grasp for things and people to fill this gaping hole inside of us. At least this is how it often works for me.

But you know what? Being alone is okay. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, life is best when enjoyed in the company of those you love, those that really know you but sometimes I start to think that I need to have someone with me every time I leave my apartment. And the truth is I don't. If I can quiet the voices inside of me, the ones that are clamoring for me to do something, anything to find relief for the loneliness I'm feeling, I find that I'm perfectly comfortable with myself. I'm good company for me. I try to "cling to the promise," as Henri Nouwen puts it, and I put on some music.

This past weekend I was trolling through my iTunes library and found some stillness in a couple of old, dusty places. Believe it or not, sometimes I forget about all the great music I have at my fingertips but from the very first note of "I'm Old Fashioned" on the Stan Getz/Chet Baker live recording Quintessence 1 I felt myself relax. There is something special about Stan's playing. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not an expert on jazz, but I think the sound of his tenor sax is brilliant. It instantly pushes the "calm down" button inside of me, even when Chet is scatting in my ear. I've read that this is not Baker's best work, but to be honest I really have nothing to gauge it with. Perhaps I should expand my knowledge of his work and the work of other jazz greats in general, but for now, I'm content with the bits and pieces I have from the Stan Getz discography. Baker's presence doesn't really make that much of a difference to me. It's not a distraction, at any rate.


Stan Getz/Chet Baker - Quintessence 1 (1983)

Scrolling further down the "S" section of my library I came across Stars of the Lid. The opening track of their most recent offering, the two disc set Stars of the Lid and Their Refinement of the Decline, had a similar stilling effect on me. I had my headphones on. It was just after 10am on Saturday morning, and I sat frozen in my chair, ears glued to the slow rise and fall of their ambient drone. This was a rare treat, one that I really should enjoy more often but do not take the opportunity to do so because this is not really music to listen to while you're driving or while your doing chores around the house. It requires your attention because it's subtle, it's quiet (most of the time) and you must listen with careful ears to appreciate the dynamics. I tried to listen to more of this album on the way to work on Monday and I ended up drowning it out with the tired, sleepy anger and frustration in my head. The Vine St. Expressway and Stars of the Lid do not mix. Lesson learned.


Stars of the Lid - And the Refinement of the Decline (2007)

Now, if I could find some music that does, indeed, inspire calm in the middle of rush hour traffic that would be terrific. Regardless, I was struck at how quickly and noticeably the two albums above got me into a quiet place of internal stillness.

reflections

I've entered another one of those blank stages. I feel stagnant, lazy. Maybe the high heat and humidity of this miserable summer has had something to do with that. It's hard to be outside in the punishing sun with no where to take cover and no way around sweating through my shirt. I've been listening to some new records that I've really enjoyed like Mines from Menomena, Part II: The New December from Fol Chen, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty from Big Boi and Disconnect From Desire from School Of Seven Bells. All the time spent indoors in the air conditioning, however, has caused me to reflect, yet again, on who I am, where I came from and what got me here. That's unpleasant work sometimes. Reflection can so often bring up the old, painful memories. It sheds light on those embarrassing and shameful moments, but the truth is it's the dark things, as well as the light, that have made me who I am today. I've been trying to relate this to music as well, considering what albums have made the most impact on my ears and have shaped the way I listen to things. I think I've come up with a few that I'd like to share. Some are probably obvious and seem like an easy choice. Others may be a little embarrassing. It's all true regardless, and it makes up my music history.


Bruce Springsteen - Born In The USA (1984)

When I was a kid my dad used to work out regularly in our basement. We had a rowing machine, a nordic track and some free weights. Dad used to put on his sweats, turn up the stereo and go to work. I would often observe from the basement steps or participate by dancing to the music. The playlist was rather exclusive. It was usually Sports (1983) by Huey Lewis & The News, Eliminator (1983) by ZZ Top or Born In The USA. The funny thing is that my mom was the big Boss fan, not my dad. Perhaps it was his guilty pleasure. At any rate, songs like "Downbound Train," "My Hometown" and "I'm On Fire" were burned into my brain (and that's not mention the mega hits from this album, "Dancing in the Dark" and "Glory Days"). At the time I didn't think much of the music. It was my parents music. Now I hear Springsteen's influence in every other band that wants to be somebody, from Dr. Dog to the Killers to Arcade Fire.


Sam Cooke - The Man And His Music (1986)

What a voice! Sam was another favorite of my mother's and I was exposed to him at a young age. I used to love singing along with him on hits like "Cupid" and "Wonderful World". Still do. He had great songs along with great arrangements and his voice was golden. "A Change Is Gonna Come" is excellent and I'm not ashamed to say that there have been times when it's moved me to tears. I'm not usually a fan of compilation albums, preferring the full length LPs over a collection of hits, but I grew up with this one and it's special to me. It's also out of print so, good luck finding a new copy. I was a bit disappointed a few years back to read about Sam Cooke the man and his womanizing ways. I was tempted to let it tarnish the brilliance of his music, especially the gospel songs, but then I remembered that he was human just like the rest of us.



A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory (1991)

This was my first rap cassette, purchased at age 12. Before this I was listening to things you might expect a child to like. Stuff my mom had passed on like the Rascals and the Monkees and then stuff from the radio like Roxette, Boyz II Men and Kris Kross. The Low End Theory changed everything for me and set me on a path that led deep through '90s rap, hip-hop and R&B, and then later through jazz. Needless to say, it disturbed my parents. Of course, I wasn't aware at the time but Tribe was changing the game with this album. It wove jazz and hip-hop together in a way that few albums before it did.



Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (1993)

If Tribe disturbed my parents, 36 Chambers would have killed them. Fortunately I was smart enough to hide it from them. It's dark and grimey, with that basement sound that is now characteristic of the Wu. Certainly not something a 13 year-old should listen to. It's rated R. I can remember being shocked at the language, knowing right away that most adults I knew wouldn't approve. I loved it and still do. It was the next step into rap music for me. I was fascinated by the stories they told. It was all foreign to me, a young white boy living in the suburbs. It was a window into another world, one full of drugs, violence and street poetry. At the same time it was also a world of make believe crafted from bits and pieces of old kung-fu flicks and comic book persona's. The combination of real street drama and bizarre martial art fantasy was brilliant. I couldn't get enough.



Soundgarden - Superunknown (1994)

It wasn't really until after high school that I would venture into other genres besides rap and hip-hop but before that there were a few albums that got my attention. Pearl Jam's Ten was one of them, and it perhaps developed a longer lasting bond, but Superunknown really connected for me. I have no doubt that it's dark atmosphere is the reason. The mood is not a far cry from that of 36 Chambers or any 2Pac, Biggie or Bone Thugs-N-Harmony record. The emotion is not all that different either. It's bleak, sad, angry and a bit self destructive. And I was a teenager. This one would be my companion and my ruler when I finally decided I could listen to alternative music.


Outkast - ATLiens (1996)

This is what I decided rap music should sound like. Story telling, street knowledge, cultural awareness and dope beats. Somehow they managed to turn from the gangsta tendencies that littered their debut (which really didn't suit them so well to begin with) to this middle of the road classic. It's possible to observe and report the violence in your neighborhood without taking part. It's possible to want to change a situation but still contribute to the problem. Life is messy. So is fame. "Elevators (Me & You)" is probably one of my favorite songs of all time. I can remember reciting the lyrics for some kids my age when I was in Romania. They seemed impressed. Or maybe they just thought it was funny. I enjoyed it in either case. Big Boi and Andre remain in a class by themselves. Who else would have had the guts to release songs like "E.T. (Extraterrestrial)," which does not include a single drum beat, or "Millennium," which exposes some of their insecurities and features a wordless chorus that consists of humming (if you can call it that. It's more like grunting). They made it work somehow, placing them back to back in the track list.


Radiohead - OK Computer (1997)

My freshman year of college I roomed with a good friend from high school who had very different taste in music. He was a grudge fan and didn't care much for rap or hip-hop. He would listen to Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" and The Bends by Radiohead over and over again until it would make me sick and I'd yell at him to turn it off. That's when he would turn it up. We were sort of like siblings. We enjoyed getting on each others nerves now and then. I would get back at him by refusing to take out the trash. It wasn't until a couple of years later when I was forced to diagram the sonic landscape of "Subterranean Homesick Alien" for a recording class that I understood Ben's obsession with Radiohead. They are on a whole other level. Being asked to diagram that song turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It completely changed the way I listened to music. I was suddenly aware of the entire sonic field and could isolate sounds and instruments in songs. This album made me appreciate how the little things come together to make great things.


Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights (2002)

I'm not really sure how to explain this one. I just feel like it opened me up to a bunch of new things. There was a time when I thought that if something wasn't on the radio it wasn't worth hearing. Turn On The Bright Lights completely disproved that for me. It was good timing because although my recording classes and Radiohead had widened my gaze,the side effect was that most mainstream, radio friendly songs had started sounding one dimensional and generally boring. Suddenly here's Interpol and this stuff called "Indie" music ready to quench my thirst. Bright Lights also helped me expand my catalog backwards after realizing that there was a bunch of classic stuff made in the '80s that I had never heard (i.e. Joy Division and the Cure). Interpol brought both the present and the past together for me in one really great album. How nice of them.


Portishead - Dummy (1994)

Also in my recording classes were some folks who were both talented musicians and informed members of the underground and indie culture. In one of our first classes we went around the room and shared what music we had been listening to. I admitted somewhat sheepishly that Pete Yorn's musicforthemorningafter had been playing in my car on the way to class. By the end of the semester these guys had pointed me to a ton of great albums. The one that I wished I had known about years earlier was Dummy. I'd been listening to Wu-Tang all those years without a clue that several of their samples came from Portishead. This was a blow to my hip-hop ego. I got over it, after a while, and then gladly shared the entire Portishead discography with everyone I knew. What this album really taught me, though, is that rap music has had a deep impact on a whole slew of other artists and it led me to people like DJ Shadow, Diplo, Lamb, Massive Attack and Bjork.


Tom Waits - Mule Variations (1999)

I used to be a part of a group of folks that would swap records, hoping to expand our collections and our ears. Most of these folks were music snobs and I don't think they would mind me saying so. To be honest, I did more taking than giving, feeling that what I had to share was not worthy enough. This is one of the treasure's that I took. In perhaps the same way as Turn On The Bright Lights, Mule Variations softened me towards two really great things: Tom Waits and classic singer/songwriter types. I had a bit of a hard time getting past Tom's voice. It's not easy to swallow, you must admit. Something about this album made it click for me though. It's so earthy and dusty and it feels so real, like a piece of Tom himself was somehow used to make it. I went on a Tom Waits binge after I heard this album a couple of years ago. It was all I listened to for weeks. Somehow getting into Tom made it possible for me to explore other greats like Nick Drake, Jackson Browne, Neil Young and Bob Dylan. There is a link somewhere in there that I can't quite put my finger on but trust me, it's there.


I'm sure I could keep listing albums that have advanced my music experience. I'm thinking of people like Digable Planets, Arrested Development, Mogwai, the Beatles, Pink Floyd...perhaps I'll write about them and more some other time. The ten I've listed here are just the first ones that came to mind. They're also albums that I frequently turn to when uncertainty paralyzes me. Right now...I'm off to get some ice cream.

robert zimmerman

I've been wanting to write about my recent education on Bob Dylan and subsequent obsession with all things related but I've had trouble trying to figure out how to do so without being boring. Perhaps someone out there may be thinking, why abandon boredom now after such a consistent track record of incomplete and uninteresting posts with no real purpose other than killing time between episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm and Wipeout? The answer: I dunno. This is mostly a conversation I have in my own head. There is a voice that says, "No one cares about any of this." Then there is another that replies, "I don't care. I'm writing for me." This discussion goes on for a bit until I'm finally able to quiet the first voice and go about the business of putting thoughts into words. Perhaps it's narcissistic. I'd prefer to think of it as an exercise in mental health or an experiment in vocabulary. At any rate, I've managed to completely ignore the subject of this post so far…Bob Dylan.

Like many other legendary artists, Dylan's significance is deeply rooted in history. Had he been born twenty years later, we may never have heard of Robert Zimmerman. Lucky for us he was born in 1941 and learned music during a time of great transition for the nation, which would serve as the inspiration and motivation for much of his early work. A couple of weeks ago I watched the excellent documentary No Direction Home from film giant Martin Scorsese. Prior to watching this film I knew embarrassingly little about the music and career of Bob Dylan. I was never really drawn to his music and to be honest, I never understood why he was such a revered artist. In one of my undergrad courses at Temple we spent a brief moment discussing the impact Dylan had on folk music, but it wasn't enough. I didn't get it. He decided to plug-in his guitar at some folk festival and made a bunch of people angry. So?

No one bothered to explain to me that Dylan was a master song writer. Scorsese did a great job of setting the scene for each stage of Dylan's early career, starting with Robert's youth in Minnesota, his journey to Greenwich Village, up to his transition into rock music in the late '60s, when much of the world felt as if he had betrayed them. Dylan had a unique talent for writing lyrics that were not topical yet relevant and timeless at once. After arriving in New York and playing old folk traditionals for a time, he began to separate himself from the other musicians collected in the city by writing his own material. Much of that material sounded as if it could have been written years earlier by more experienced men and a lot of those songs became new anthems for the civil rights and anti-war movements. He was 22 when he wrote "Blowin' the Wind" but it was obvious his soul was much older. In the film, Mavis Staples remembers how hard it was for her to understand how this young white boy was able to write a song that so completely captured what black people were experiencing at the time. Needless to say, this completely shook up the folk movement that was happening in the late '50s and early '60s and propelled Dylan to fame.

One of the things that really struck me about Dylan's music is how much of it has been covered by other artists. What really separated him from his peers, besides the superior song writing, was the parallel success others had with his songs. "Blowin' in the Wind," for example, was made into a world-wide hit by Peter, Paul and Mary in 1963, not by Dylan himself. The Byrds made "Mr. Tambourine Man" a #1 hit in 1965, the same year Dylan released the song on his own album Bringing It All Back Home. Both Johnny Cash and The Turtles made hits out of "It Ain't Me Babe" in 1965 even though Dylan had released it a year earlier on Another Side of Bob Dylan. Before I watched Scorsese's documentary I knew that Jimi Hendrix did not write "All Along the Watchtower." Bob Dylan did. It was originally recorded in 1966 and then made into a rock classic by Hendrix in '68. In each of these instances Dylan recorded and performed these songs with a straight forward folk sound while his fellow artists dressed them up and made them into pop hits. The way Dylan tells it in the documentary, he decided at one point he'd like to have a hit song himself so, he made a ten page letter written in anger to an unknown recipient into "Like a Rolling Stone" and hit the charts himself. It was that easy.

I love the stories of how Dylan upset the mass folk following he had acquired in the early '60s by reinventing himself into a rock musician with electric guitars and drums (gasp!). He toured the UK in the mid '60s with The Beatles and audiences made it clear they did not care for the new electric Bob Dylan, regularly booing and heckling during the non-acoustic portion of his set. People were really upset about this. They took it personally, feeling as if he had sold out and had deceived them all in the process. Why wasn't he rescuing them from injustice and oppression as they had expected? It didn't seem to matter what the the lyrics to songs like "Maggie's Farm" or "Tombstone Blues" were. The music was too loud and a lot of folks missed the message as a result. But they kept listening. They kept buying records and concert tickets. It is the most inspired and well crafted "sell out" in the history of music. I think most folks get that now. You have to admire how Dylan did not let this strong opposition to his development as an artist stop him from being who needed to be creatively.

So, it's true, No Direction Home has turned me into a Bob Dylan fan. I have been loving pretty much everything he did between '63 and '66 (he released 6 albums during that period, including the double LP Blonde On Blonde). Some of my favorites songs so far are "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" from '63s The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, "When the Ship Comes In" and "Only A Pawn In Their Game" (about the assassination of Medgar Evers) from '64s The Times They Are A-Changin', "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)" and "Subterranean Homesick Blues" from Bringing It All Back Home, "Tombstone Blues" from '65s Highway 61 Revisited and all of Blonde On Blonde is brilliant but my favorite tracks are "Visions of Johanna" and "Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again."

As it turns out, Robert Zimmerman is a true American legend. It kind of makes me wonder about what the rest of us have been born to do. I don't think Dylan set out to change folk music or write anthems against injustice. I think his talents just took him there. His obvious discomfort with super-stardom confirms his only interest is in writing and playing what he's inspired to. In a lot of ways I hope it works out that for all of us, that we find what we're good at and just keep doing it the best way we know how while growing, learning, changing and persevering through doubt.