One of the most fascinating
aspects of the Never-Ending Tour (NET) has been Dylan’s choices
of cover songs over the years. Although the actual performances of the
songs have ranged from the sublime to the perfunctory to the ridiculous,
the songs themselves shed some light on the inner workings of Dylan’s
performance art.
Sometimes the songs tell us where Dylan has come from. Other times,
they remind us who his contemporaries are. They can also indicate Dylan’s
current concerns. And, of course, sometimes they tell us nothing more
than that Dylan likes this song and thought it would be a blast to try
and perform it live.
Not all his performances of cover versions work. (Needless to say, not
all his performances of original material work either.) However, when
they do work, they can serve as startling reminders of why people spend
so much time following and analysing Dylan’s constant touring.
One cover version that has always worked is ‘The Roving Blade’.
The song has been performed three times (so far) on the NET: Reims,
1992; Belfast, 1998; and Reno, 2000. Here are the song’s lyrics
(though it should come as no surprise that Dylan hasn’t always
stuck to the admittedly fluid text):
In Newry town where I was bred and born.
In Stephen’s Green now I lie in scorn.
I served my time there to the saddlers’ trade
And I always was a roving blade.
At seventeen I took a wife,
And I loved her dearer than I loved my life.
And for to keep her both fine and gay
I went a-robbin’ on the king’s highway.
I never robbed any poor man yet,
Nor tradesman ever have I caused to fret.
But I robbed lords and their ladies at night
And carry all home to my heart’s delight.
I robbed Lord Golding, I do declare,
And Lady Mansel in Grosvenor Square.
I shut the shutter and bade them good night
And home I went then to my heart’s delight.
To Covent Garden I took my way
With my dear wife for to see the play.
Lord Fielding’s men did me pursue
And taken was I by the cursed crew.
My father cried, ‘My darling son.’
My wife she cried, ‘I am undone.’
My mother tore her white locks and cried
That in the cradle I should have died.
When I am dead and in my grave
A flashy funeral pray let me have.
Six highwaymen for to carry me.
Give them broadswords and sweet liberty.
Six pretty fair maids to bear my pall.
Give them grey ribbons and green garlands all.
When I’m dead they will speak the truth,
He was a wild and a wicked youth.
In Newry town where I was bred and born.
In Stephen’s Green now I lie in scorn.
I served my time there to the saddlers’ trade|
And I always was a roving blade.
Just to clarify, a ‘roving blade’ is not a razor that has
grown legs and started wandering the country.1 The term ‘blade’
was once used to refer to a dashing young man who usually had a sharp
wit and adventurous nature. It originates from a time when such men
carried swords.
A blade is different from that other folk-song character, the rake.
A rake is lucky enough to lead an immoral, debauched life. However,
the term ‘blade’ doesn’t carry such licentious connotations.
The Lord Fielding referred to is Henry Fielding, a judge who published
a pamphlet in 1751 called ‘An Inquiry into the Causes of the Late
Increase of Robbers’. The ideas in this pamphlet eventually led
to the creation of the first professional police force, the Bow Street
Runners in London. He was also a novelist and playwright; his most famous
work was Tom Jones (published in 1749). Coincidentally, his most successful
play was The Tragedy of Tom Thumb.
Each of Dylan’s performances of ‘The Roving Blade’
is unique, and gripping in its own right. Each time he sings the song,
he seems to draw on different aspects of its story.
The 1992 performance from Reims is truly haunting, scary even. (It can
be heard on the essential bootleg Golden Vanity.) Dylan sings the song
alone with his acoustic guitar. His slow deliberate high-pitched delivery
brings the song’s tragic elements to the fore.
The image of a once-dashing blade now lying in scorn probably struck
a chord with Dylan at this time. His own relationship with the audience
seemed to be ebbing again. And his muse had apparently left him again
as well. His personal life also was in turmoil, with Carolyn Dennis
filing for divorce on 7 August, 1990. This adds poignancy to the way
he sings ‘my dear wife’.
Dylan’s and Rimbaud’s Wounded Shoes… ‘Patti Smith says you were Rimbaud in a previous
incarnation…
I don’t know if she’s right or wrong, but Patti Smith then,
of course, knows a lot of deep details I might not be aware of. She
might be clued into something that’s a little beyond me. I know
at least a dozen women who tell me they were the Queen of Sheba. And
I know a few Napoleons and two Joan of Arcs and one Einstein.’
In Chronicles, Volume One, Dylan has recently stressed the
influence of French poet and adventurer Arthur Rimbaud on his work,
thereby reminding researchers that there still is much to be gleaned
from a close scrutiny of the poet and the singer-songwriter’s
relationship. In his memoir, Dylan has this to say about his discovery
of the enfant terrible of French literature:
‘To go with all of that [Robert Johnson’s language],
someplace along the line Suze had also introduced me to the poetry of
French Symbolist poet Arthur Rimbaud. That was a big deal, too. I came
across one of his letters called “Je est un autre”, which
translates into “I is someone else”. When I read those words
the bells went off. It made perfect sense. I wished someone would have
mentioned that to me earlier. It went right along with Johnson’s
dark night of the soul and Woody’s hopped-up union meeting sermons
and the “Pirate Jenny” framework. Everything was in transition
and I was standing in the gateway. Soon I’d step in heavy loaded,
fully alive and revved up. Not quite yet, though.’
Dylan credits Suze Rotolo with introducing him to the poetry of Rimbaud:
a minor detail finally settled. But the really interesting thing about
this statement of Dylan’s is that it expressly links the impact
of Rimbaud’s conceptual imagery with that of the sparse and elliptical
blues language of Robert Johnson and the rigorous structure of Brecht.
Not that this comes as a surprise, for Dylan’s main influences
have often been discussed and commented on, even by him, but it really
sums up things nicely, in my opinion.
But if Chronicles proves that Dylan’s memory is far better than
what has commonly been accepted, it does little to dispel the notion
that he is hopeless with dates: ‘someplace along the line’
isn’t a very helpful marker. We are thus unable to pinpoint the
precise date of this momentous encounter between the poet and the burgeoning
songwriter. It is also unfortunate that Dylan does not give any detailed
account of how he was affected by Rimbaud’s language, poetically
or personally, as he does with Robert Johnson’s music and lyrics.
All we learn is that Bob’s girlfriend Suze introduced him to the
French Symbolist poets (Rimbaud, Verlaine, but also Nerval and Baudelaire,
their common forerunners) roughly in the first half of 1962; until now
she was merely known to be responsible for Dylan’s discovery of
German Marxist author Bertolt Brecht.
You Came Down On Me Like Rolling Thunder
This is an amazing time to be a fan – especially an older fan
– of Bob Dylan. The Never Ending Tour rambles through its 17th
year. Want tickets to a show? Point and click. Want a ‘field recording’
of last night’s performance? Point and click. Still not satisfied
because ‘Bob just ain’t what he used to be’? Relax
– your ship has come in. As I write this, no less than four commercial
products conceived to celebrate Bob as ‘he used to be’ are
scheduled for release over a stretch of just three weeks. For starters
we have The Gaslight Tape to be released on August 30 through
the Starbucks coffee chain. (These are US release dates.) Yes, I’m
aware of the controversy that this project has generated within the
Dylan community, but that issue is beyond the scope of this article.
The fact of the matter is that this show, long coveted by bootleg collectors,
is about to become available (albeit in a condensed format), presumably
in superb sound quality, to anyone willing to head for the local Starbucks.
On the same day, we have the soundtrack from the long anticipated Martin
Scorsese No Direction Home documentary to be packaged as The
Bootleg Series Volume Seven. September 13 will see the arrival
of the Bob Dylan Scrapbook with still another CD containing
interviews pertaining to the 1961-’66 time frame as a bonus offering.
And finally, on September 20, the grand finale: the Scorsese No
Direction Home documentary hits the shelf as a two disc DVD package.
The teasing trailers for this project suggest that it will be one of
the most important Dylan products ever. In addition to all this over-the-counter
merchandise, there is the amazing two disc bootleg DVD set of outtakes
from Dont Look Back which offers a feast of performance footage
from Bob’s final solo acoustic tour in May of 1965 and the Carnegie
Hall 1963 show now too! All too much…
Although I don’t recall any official announcement to confirm it,
one assumes that all of this is happening at this point in time to commemorate
the fortieth anniversary of two of the most significant events in Dylan’s
career: the release of ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ in July of
1965 followed almost immediately by the 25 July performance at the Newport
Folk Festival when our hero plugged in and tuned out the ‘folk
establishment.’ Whatever the case may be, between this avalanche
of high quality product and his constant touring, Bob Dylan has never
been more accessible to his legion of fans than he is right now. And
this brings us to a major point of this article: it hasn’t always
been this easy, and at no time in Bob’s career was it more challenging
than during the legendary Rolling Thunder Revue tour in the fall of
1975.
Dylan, Baez May Play in Burlington – The headline exploded from
the entertainment page of the Thursday, 30 October edition of the Free
Press. Reliable sources indicated that the Memorial Auditorium in Burlington
had been booked for a concert featuring Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Jack Elliott,
and other folk luminaries. While logistics had not been finalized, indications
were that the concert was planned for early November. Stay tuned for
further developments. I must have read the article at least five times
before I looked up in disbelief. It had been more than ten years since
Dylan and Baez had last performed together. Their joint appearances
in the mid-’60s were legendary, and any reunion in the wake of
their ugly parting of the ways seemed unlikely at best. Now it appeared
that the impossible would be happening right in my own backyard. But
where were the specifics? The entire story seemed to be rooted in conjecture.
Although Saturday, 8 November was suggested as the likely date for the
show, ticket procurement details were nowhere to be found. Whatever
pleasure I could realize from the news was greatly diminished by my
need to get the facts.
For anyone born since the 1970s, the entire process of acquiring tickets
to a concert of this significance – especially for someone living
in a remote outpost of northern Vermont – would seem to be from
outer space. When Dylan toured North America in 1974 after a hiatus
of nearly eight years, tickets to all but two of the venues were sold
by lottery! I remember reading that only about one in every twenty persons
who sent in a cheque with a self-addressed, stamped envelope actually
managed to see one of the ’74 shows. I was one of the fortunate
ones; the two performances at the Montreal Forum were sold the old fashioned
way. Get in line at the box office and hope that seats would still be
available by the time you reached the window. I had great seats both
nights. This Rolling Thunder tour presented a whole new set of obstacles.
The earliest news leaks indicated that Dylan and his caravan were barnstorming
through the Northeast with an itinerary that was created on the fly.
Posters and fliers would suddenly appear in random locations throughout
the region only a day or two before the show would arrive in town. The
same man who just a year and a half earlier had been selling out huge
sports arenas in a matter of hours (remember, this was pre-internet!)
was now playing movie theatres within a 250 mile radius of my home!
I was frantic; I considered myself unconditionally to be the biggest
Bob Dylan fan in the universe, and the possibility of missing an event
of this magnitude was driving me to distraction. I called radio stations,
I called newspapers, I called the record company with little or no success.
Finally a crack appeared in the wall of secrecy. I’m not sure
now whether it was a radio announcement or a little blurb in the newspaper,
but on Monday, 3 November, word circulated that an announcement concerning
the time and place for ticket sales to this most highly anticipated
event would appear in the next morning’s edition of the Burlington
Free Press. Speculation suggested that the tickets would, in fact, be
sold the next day. This was all that I needed. Along with two friends,
I left for Burlington that evening, determined to fetch a copy of the
Free Press as soon as it appeared on the streets and then to head for
whatever site might be announced for the ticket distribution.
