It reminds me so much of college, when this became one of my favorite songs during my senior year. The year before, a couple of my best friends had taken a slightly cynical "year abroad" at a state school known for partying. The logic behind transferring out seemed to be enjoying a campus where the girls, drugs and mountains where all more plentiful than they were at our old fashioned little school in the middle of nowhere. The idea was to return for senior year to pick up a more prestigious degree.
Much of my time with these guys sophomore year involved sitting around and listening to music, drinking cheap beer and arguing over what to listen to next. All before bracing ourselves for a party or bar where our presence was uninvited or unwelcome, several guys adding to the cruel ratio of boys to girls. We often stood apart, bound by our surliness and frustration, and blended in about as well as someone's parents. Then, back home to the "hang out" room where a pizza and a pipe and loud music and laughter gave succor to our wounded egos.
The self-appointed ringleader of this group was one of the guys who took that year at a state school, and when he returned to our fold the summer before our senior year, where many of us stayed for classes, he and I found each other in a happy yet uneasy reunion. We had consumed dozens of records on our own since the year before, and were excited to compare notes.
One of our common areas of deepening interest was Bob Dylan. There was so much to dive into! That summer, he and I came up with the now faintly quaint notion of creating a "Dylan Hour". Once a week, we would take turns playing for each other our favorite Dylan songs. Trying to impress the other with what we discovered, and what we heard in the music. These started with just the two of us taking turns and a couple other guys, over beers. Soon, they blew up into something much bigger. A rakish child psychology professor, his floppy hair and black plastic specs and entertaining classes all adored by many a co-ed, emerged as a Dylan expert, with rare bootleg albums like The Great White Wonder. He regarded us with a mix of bemusement and indifference, looking past us at the growing number of fetching young women who were joining us. Because soon, as silly as it sounds now, these "Dylan Hours" became a haven for hipsters. By the time the school year started in the fall, several dozen of them would be crowded into my modest two bedroom apartment. A sea of flannel shrouded in the smoke of marlboro lights. Bob Dylan, through my cheap stereo speakers, strained to be heard above the happy din. Eventually, the music became an afterthought, faintly heard background music. It might as well have been Spyro Gyra. I remember turning to my friend at one of these and saying" Whatever happened to Bob?" He had left the building.
If he was gone, as it often appeared during points of retreat in his career, there were any number of singer-songwriters tagged as the "new Dylan". Former Chicago postal clerk John Prine was was one of them. Here, I have his incredible Vietnam vet song "Sam Stone", as well as a stunning cover by Swamp Dogg.
Also here: Junior McCants' beautifully sung "This Boy Needs A Girl", which sounds like it is sung by a woman; Kanye West's breakthrough hit "Through The Wire", sampling Chaka Khan; Sam & Dave's proto-rap "Hold On, I'm Comin'"; GZA's ominous "I Gotcha' Back"; and "Sport" by Lightning Rod, a rap pioneer from the 70s, backed by Kool & The Gang.
Then, a little disco break with Manzel's classic "Space Funk" in a 12 inch remix, followed by the Bee Gees' "Night Fever" from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack.
The next suite of songs are a wildly diverse set to carnal affairs. Jimmy Jones' "Ain't Nothing Wrong With Making Love" is very obscure 70s loverman soul, followed by Def Leppard's stuttering "Foolin'", and then Clipse's swaggering "Grindin'". Jimmy Jones' opening line is that "there's nothing wrong with makin' love the first night". Agreed!
When I hear a song like "Obstacle 1" by Interpol, I wonder how much more I might have liked it as a teenager. We have the Bee Gees on this mix, and we also have a Bee Gees cover by Gram Parsons and The Flying Burrito Brothers, with "To Love Somebody." Mitty Collier's 60s soul ballad "I Had A Talk With My Man" last night borrows greatly from an old gospel song called "I Had A Talk With My God Last Night". It's such a sweet, sweet song.
The next few songs are all in the key of bummer. Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" reminds me of my parents' vicious custody battles, for which this distantly haunting song played as a soundtrack off the top 40 radio. "Let The Bad Times Roll" is Paul Westerberg's typically jokey pun turned into a dirge. I love the distorted singing over humming at the end. Didier Hebert's similarly mush-mouthed "I Woke Up One Morning In May" is off the famous Harry Smith Folk Anthology. Then, after Swamp Dogg's "Sam Stone" is The Beach Boys lament "I Just Wasn't Made For These Times".
Perhaps I wasn't either. In general, I am proudly out of step with where I am supposed to be. During my "Dylan Hour" era, my father once told me that I would "grow out of" my Dylan phase.
That hasn't happened yet.
