I wish the warmongers in White House would pay attention to what they are doing to these kids–three of my students are in the cue to be sent to Iraq awaiting their deployment. It is upsetting to see what the deployment news does to their time in school–they lose all heart, all interest in school and studies. They become so disengaged. God I wish these people would see what they are doing to these young men and women. Maybe they do.

You fasten the triggers for the others to fire

Then you set back and watch as the death count gets higher

You hide in your mansion as young people’s blood

Flows out of their bodies and is buried in the mud.

I was thinking of Bob Dylan’s song all day after talking to a student trying to persuade him to register for classes for Fall in case the deployment is delayed. He can still be in school. Nope–not interested. We’ll see when we return. How sad.

I just finished the Oh Mercy chapter in Chronicles and I am yet again struck by the insight and awareness with which Dylan writes about his songs, his recordings, the artists he has worked with, his producers. He is sort of the Leo Tolstoy of music, I think. Such a craftsman–writes beautifully and knowledgeably about music. The chapter Oh Mercy is a good example. Dylan describes the source, inspiration, genesis of most of the song tracks (for instance, “Political World” is not about current politics though it could be–it is too broad, Dylan says; “Dignity” was somehow touched by the death of Pete Maravich, or Pistol Pete, the basketball player with New Orleans Jazz who collapsed on a basketball court in Pasadena; “Disease of Conceit” by the news that Jimmy Swaggart had been defrocked by the Assembly of God for his liaison with a prostitute; “what was it you wanted?” an exploration into being an object of curiosity ; “everything is broken”–I loved the discussion of this song–it is almost like an exercise in semantic over-determination–how many synonyms can you come up with for broken? what are the things that can be broken? bring your list-the song started with the image of a broken beautiful portable General Electric radio lying on a beach and it went from there to anything and everything that can be broken; the beautiful ballad “Where teardrops Fall” out of nowhere, a perfect song; “what good am I” could have been brought on by the sight of a homeless guy holding his head in his hands with a tiny spaniel at his feet and being ordered to move by cops etc). This chapter also discusses what it was like working Daniel Lanois as the producer. Here is Dylan summing up their work together (p.218):

“Our time was drawing to a close. Danny and I were sitting in the courtyard, the same way we had when we first met. . . .When the record was all added up, I hoped it would meet head on with the realities of life. I was going to thank him, but sometimes you can do it without opening your mouth, you can live it. I’d come to town with a cacophony of ideas and spent all I had under the watching gods. There’d been a clashing of spirits at times, but nothing that had turned into a bitter or complicated struggle. In the end, there always has to be some compromise of personal interests and there was, but the record satisfied my purposes and his. I can’t say if it’s the record either of us wanted. Human dynamics plays too big a part, and getting what you want isn’t always the most important thing in life anyway.”

This chapter also deals deeply with Dylan’s struggle with losing vocal control and losing audience in live concerts. It is an amazing chapter really–mathematical and mystical the way he understands his problems with singing and how he manages to overcome them. His ultimate epiphany on how to sing and play guitar? A jazz musician in a New Orleans jazz club. So there.