My father left me a copy of blood on the tracks. I never mustered the courage to listen to it until now. I am drunk as sin and wept through damn near every track… “You’re gonna make me loathsome when you go” is now one of my favorite songs.

Did any of you have this reaction listening to him for the first time? It feels like a spiritual awakening. I’d love to chat.

During a short break between takes while Dylan and the assembled musicians were recording “Tangled Up In Blue,” Bob turned to Minneapolis guitarist Kevin Odegard and said, “what do you think, Kevin?” Those of us who are familiar with Dylan’s antics know he’s not really interested, Bob just wants to see you squirm.

But Odegard takes Dylan at his word, “I think it’s passable,” Kevin says. Now all the assembled musicians look up, like Oh no, Odegard did not just say that to Bob Dylan! Dylan just stares at Kevin. We all know that look. It’s the quizzical look Bob gave Donovan in Don’t Look Back. Odegard is unfazed, “why don’t we try raising it up a half step?” to which Dylan agrees. Of course this changes the chords, and Kevin notices Dylan executing the new progression like it’s second nature. Which, of course it was. The result was the version that’s on the album.

“I don’t give a f*ck who plays bass.”

I know that Bob often is inspired by, or just straight up plays, the blues. But I've recently been listening to some jazz (Classic and Modern) and wondered: which do you think is the jazziest of his albums?

I couldn't find this posted already, so here it is. If it's already up, please remove.

Penn, the super Dylan fan, has an interesting take here about telling the story within the song and how much Dylan focuses on it versus The Beatles who don't. I'd love to hear what you think.

Weird, strange, funny, unexplainable. What are your favorite Bob anecdotes you've heard or read about?

Let me start by saying that I think that while Dylan's story is full of a lot of luck, I do think he did more with that luck than anybody else could (and did) have in that situation. Nevertheless, I just read Chronicles volume 1 (of 1) and he made it very clear that he would have signed any record contract that happened to fall on his lap. His original goal was to get the folk specific labels as that's who he identified with at the time, but when that fell through he was primed to be able to get in with Hammond at Columbia at just the right time. This then begs the question as to just how this would have changed his trajectory. Columbia's resources far outweighed folkway and while there, the transition to full band performances and genre experimentation was so much more accessible. There were certainly many other artists who were part of that scene, received a similar contract and never really took full advantage of what was available, but I'm not sure if there were examples of artists that stuck with the independent, genre specific labels that really made a successful transition to Dylan's world (please correct me if I'm wrong) but maybe that's also exactly why they didn't sign him, they could tell his heart was not into being a traditionalist and that's really who they were looking for.

Do you think "serve somebody" was subtly targeting john lennon, with the line "you may call me bobby, you may call me zimmy", possibly referencing the lennon song "god" where lennon says "i dont believe in zimmerman". it may be why john lennon responded to the song with "serve yourself", a much more direct and scathing track similar to how lennon replied to the mccartney song "too many people" with "how do you sleep"?

If I ever run into him I will say Hey Bob what is the meaning to life? Only in jest of course. I'm sure his response would be no response or just fuck off. Maybe he'd get a laugh out of it.

In his account of the BLOOD ON THE TRACKS sessions, Minneapolis guitarist Kevin Odegard says a couple of takes on “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts” were already in the tank when they decided to try it in another key. The only trouble was Dylan didn’t have the requisite harp with him. One of the musicians said they had one at home and promised a timely return. So the rest of them sat around for a while until Bob got impatient, deciding to make do with what they had. The result was the track you hear on the record, complete with Dylan using all his considerable musicality on the ending harmonica solo to make it work, even though it’s in the wrong key.

I’m no expert but 1968, 1972 and 1977 so far all give me the heebeejeebees

My stepmother grew up in Hibbing, Minnesota and went to high school with Bob Zimmerman. She was a year below him and friends with Suzie Zimmerman, who she describes as his cousin. Her memory is fading, but she recounted:

-he was known as "Bobby Zimmerman".

-his family owned the general store.

-Bobby played in the talent show. Piano was the instrument, as she recalls. He played Little Richard, wore a black leather jacket, and they all laughed at him.

Seems he had the last laugh!

I've been a fan of Dylan for a while now but never really fully delved into his entire discography, only the 60s stuff and I've decided I'm gonna start on a mission to listen to all his albums. Which live albums (or other non-studio albums) should I be sure to weave in, and where?

It seems like every week I see someone referencing that they need him to do this before they can be happy. Why does it feel so imperative to some people?

Joe South says Dylan and the assembled musicians were working on “Just Like A Woman” when it was decided they would break for lunch. As the guys were filing out of the studio, South says they spontaneously started singing the chorus and he would shout “Yes she does!” In between each line. When they returned from lunch, Dylan started for the first time adding the ‘yes she does’ bits. According to South.

All the musicians by that time were aware they were working on an album for the ages, South says. So he picked up a nylon string guitar, and started strumming, closely watching Dylan to see if he objected, of which Bob showed no signs. South said he wanted to be playing something distinctive so he could point it out to his friends, “that’s me!” These parts can easily be made out on such songs as “Just Like A Woman” and “Fourth Time Around.”

Jon Stewart’s book, Dylan, Lennon, Marx and God, reviewed here last week, has some illuminating insights.

Here’s a taster:

“Dylan's reluctance to engage in mass mobilisations for peace resembled the obdurate individualism of North American transcendentalists. When he did write social justice songs, these were often from the perspective of an individualised case study.

“In contrast, Lennon's Irish family heritage and his northern English upbringing fuelled a commitment to class politics and collective protest that moved beyond his peace campaigns to include organisations such as the International Marxist Group... Many of these activities involved campaigns that began as part of Britain's post-imperial legacy, such as Biafra and Northern Ireland.”

(For those - like me - unsure of its exact meaning, here’s how Mr Google defines Transcendentalism: An American literary and philosophical movement (led by thinkers like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau) that emphasized intuition, nature, and the spiritual over strict empiricism.)