I’ve only seen two Dylan concerts. One, in the the 70’s, which I barely remember, which I guess proves I was there. The other, in the 90’s, at some smallish venue, which could have been amazing if he hadn’t performed almost grudgingly.
I don’t like to conflate art and artist so I just let it go. Who cares that he comes across as a self important prig? I enjoyed making pasta with his tunes playing a little too loud in the background.
But something about the Nobel snub is a line for me. And believe me it’s not the Nobel crowd I’m defending here. It’s just enough already. What, exactly, is so hard about simply saying thank you and being grateful in some tiny way to the millions of mere mortals who allowed a guy named Robert Zimmerman to make his art and his living as he chose to.
It’s our fault. We’ve let him believe he’s god. And now this.
Even if he shows up for the Nobel ceremony (but why would he do that… surely he’s not accepting the money??) it’s too little too late. He’s imprinted in my mind now wearing a sequinned tiara and prima donna sash. A wonky harmonica dangling from somewhere.
And the music suffers with the image.
So, thanks for the memories, Robbie. Some nice times. Really nice. Some excellent pasta. But I’m moving on. Suddenly the music just feels like a lot of self-importance and only reminds me how we already have enough arrogance out there blowin’ in the wind…