I'm Not There

Last night I finally saw 'I'm Not There', Todd Hayne's twisted, surreal, labyrinth of a Bob Dylan biopic. It was like nothing I've ever seen before. I say that with awe – how often does one encounter a piece of art that transcends genre and not only reaches for the sublime, but ensnares it so effortlessly? Well, Dylan did just that every time he wrote a song, so I suppose it's only fitting that a movie about his life would seek to embody that level of artistry.

This isn't a move review, though. You can find plenty of those elsewhere, written by people smarter than myself, people who understand the particular art and technique of movie-making, something I cannot begin to understand, and truth be told, do not especially wish to learn.

This is an appreciation of Bob Dylan, whose music has been with me since I was a child. Along with Led Zeppelin and the Beatles, Dylan's music surrounded me from an early age; from the protest songs of 'The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan', to the Chelsea hotel confessions of 'Blonde on Blonde', to the surreal circus sound of 'Highway '61 Revisited', and to (my personal favourite), the raw, scraped-to-the-bone pain of 'Blood on the Tracks', Bob has always been with me. This is one of the things that I thank my parents for; they gave me music, early on, and they gave me the best of the '60s and '70s.

There is something about the way Dylan wrote (I say wrote, although he is still writing; I will admit I have not listened to 'Love and Theft' or 'Time out of Mind') that shivers my spine. I have used that phrase before, in 'A Short Note Concerning Art', and I don't mind recycling it here. It is nothing I can define, easily; something about the way the words and voice and guitar combine to create a moment of ecstasy and purity.

And then there is 'Like a Rolling Stone', perhaps his most famous song. I can pull this one apart, sinew by sinew and bone from flesh, because it is the best kind of Art, the kind of Art I love the most. It is layered with meaning, idea upon theme upon allusion, it is at once high art and pop artifact. I read somewhere, a long time ago, that for a song or album to be great it must contain three things; sex, humour, and the sense that everything could fall apart upon a moment. By those standards, 'Like a Rolling Stone' is the greatest song ever written. It rambles, gambols, strolls, and almost topples; and above it all, that voice, singing about the mystery tramp, Napoleon in rags, and Edie Sedgewick stumbling down the sidewalk in kitten heels.

How does it feel? Pretty fucking great, actually.

***

Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge.

from 'Tombstone Blues', by Bob Dylan