The only songwriter that has fundamentally changed the lens through which I see the world has been Bob Dylan. Not only because he pioneered a new wave of consciousness through music, but because many of the songwriters that I admire today stand on Dylan’s shoulders, a man that first opened the door to an era of honest songwriting, however controversial or heartbreaking. It was the Dylan circa 1960’s that rose above the safe mediocrity of music at the time and completely changed the landscape of folk and rock music, and (reluctantly so) changed the social fabric of an impenetrable nation. 

So the other night I watched No Direction Home, a Dylan documentary directed by Martin Scorcese. It’s a few years old, but it was a needed reminder of the roots I never had but wish I did. There was a fierce fascination with Dylan, partly because he really never gave a shit about anything but the songs. He portrayed reckless abandon for all social restraints, labeled as the ultimate beatnik. He was also touted a hero of the anti-war protests, a, “master poet, caustic social critic and intrepid, guiding spirit of the counterculture generation” and although his lyrics would agree, he wouldn’t so much as give the radicals that. He was nobody’s nothin’. The whole world watched and waited for the gospel of a young midwestern jewish boy who spoke truths the world had never heard before, and may never hear again.

Bob Dylan- Subterranean Homesick Blues

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Bob Dylan- Girl From the North Country

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