Ain’t no room on board for the insincere.

August 3, 2012

You’re my witness,
I’m your mutineer.

And his brain has been mismanaged with great skill.

March 16, 2010

The job of artists is to draw our attention to certain matters.

Great video with Mark Knopfler.

NOTE: Sony doesn’t like to share.

License To Kill, Bob Dylan

Man thinks ’cause he rules the earth he can do with it as he please
And if things don’t change soon, he will.
Oh, man has invented his doom,
First step was touching the moon.

Now, there’s a woman on my block,
She just sit there as the night grows still.
She say who gonna take away his license to kill?

Now, they take him and they teach him and they groom him for life
And they set him on a path where he’s bound to get ill,
Then they bury him with stars,
Sell his body like they do used cars.

Now, there’s a woman on my block,
She just sit there facin’ the hill.
She say who gonna take away his license to kill?

Now, he’s hell-bent for destruction, he’s afraid and confused,
And his brain has been mismanaged with great skill.
All he believes are his eyes
And his eyes, they just tell him lies.

But there’s a woman on my block,
Sitting there in a cold chill.
She say who gonna take away his license to kill?

Ya may be a noisemaker, spirit maker,
Heartbreaker, backbreaker,
Leave no stone unturned.
May be an actor in a plot,
That might be all that you got
’Til your error you clearly learn.

Now he worships at an altar of a stagnant pool
And when he sees his reflection, he’s fulfilled.
Oh, man is opposed to fair play,
He wants it all and he wants it his way.

Now, there’s a woman on my block,
She just sit there as the night grows still.
She say who gonna take away his license to kill?

Copyright © 1983 by Special Rider Music

Don’t think twice it’s all right

November 24, 2009

We saw Dylan at the Aud on Nov 7th.


Pick up his Christmas CD.

Christmas in the Heart, Bob Dylan

by Vish Khanna

For all the praise heaped upon Bob Dylan, he’s seldom given credit for his sense of humour, an attribute most amply exhibited throughout his latest and most bizarre release in recent memory. Beyond the obvious oddness of a devout Jew recording 15 Christmas songs, the choices Dylan makes as the producer of this holiday-themed record (whose proceeds go to charity) are certainly bemusing. When he’s earnest, he’s full-on about it on versions of “Do You Hear What I Hear?” and “O’ Come All Ye Faithful (Adeste Fideles).” But the most effective songs are done for fun, capturing the child-like wonder of the season. With charming, angelic back-up vocalists and a variety of instrumentalists augmenting his crack live band, Dylan clearly enjoyed arranging amusing takes on “Here Comes Santa Claus,” “Winter Wonderland,” “Christmas Island” and album highlight “Must Be Santa,” which can only be described as a hoot. In great command of his weathered voice, Dylan crafts a present for fans with Christmas in the Heart. (Columbia) Source

Knows there’s no success like failure, Failure’s no success at all

September 2, 2008

I was reminded recently while reading about losers that Bob Dylan often warned about how much some money can cost.

Ambition is okay as long as you remember that you can fail at something without re-defining yourself as a loser. Franchising tends to rub out identity, stigmatize and  then silence people.

People think I hate franchising but it is the exact opposite (which is what you come to expect nearing the big 5Oh). I a sense, my mistress is the way franchising was; the way the Titans treated each other.

  • There are people that remember. I am alone but not lonely.
  • Sometimes the only way to say it is through verse and melody.

Love Minus Zero/No Limit, Bob Dylan

My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
Doesn’t have to say she’s faithful,
Yet she’s true, like ice, or fire.

People carry roses,
Make promises by the hour,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can’t buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk over situations,
Read books and repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.

Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
Knows there’s no success like failure,
And that failure’s no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles,
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even a pawn must hold a grudge.

Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she doesn’t bother,
She knows not to argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers’ nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.

The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she’s like some raven,
At my window with a broken wing.

%d bloggers like this: