I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
He’s a better candidate for popular poet of the second half of the twentieth century than Bob Dylan... that Dylan got the Nobel prize for literature is an anomaly that will take some time to unwind.
Although for all his existential crispness with the pen he is still a man in his 70s who had a facelift.
He’s a good lyricist and a good populariser of world music sounds, albeit somewhat lightfingered when it comes to cultural appropriation of musical styles.
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
Tonight I'll sing my songs again
I'll play the game and pretend
But all my words come back to me
In shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony
I need someone to comfort me
"Kathy, I'm lost", I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
one of the lyrics that really haunts me
but the power of this is greater
… And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road
But I wish there was somethin' you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
But we never did too much talking anyway
But don't think twice, it's all right
… So it ain't no use in calling out my name, gal
Like you never done before
And it ain't no use in calling out my name, gal
I can't hear you anymore
I'm a-thinking and a-wonderin' walking down the road
I once loved a woman, a child, I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's all right
… So long honey, babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
Goodbye's too good a word, babe
So I'll just say, "Fare thee well"
I ain't a-saying you treated me unkind
You could've done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right
Paul Simon's A simple desultory philippic (or how I was nearly Robert McNamara'd into submission) tells all you need to know about Bob Dylan:
...
I knew a man, his brain so small
He couldn’t think of nothing at all
He’s not the same as you and me
He doesn’t dig poetry
He’s so unhip that
When you say Dylan, he thinks you’re talkin’ about Dylan Thomas
Whoever he was
The man ain’t got no culture
But it’s alright, ma
Everybody must get stoned
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Betty when you call me, you can call me Al
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EFFF UUUUUU ART !!!!
right in the eye buddy, right in the eye
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‘There’s no one home
we’re all alone
oh come into my room and play, yes we can play
I’m not talking about your pigtails, I’m talking ‘bout your sex appeal’
that one has aged poorly tbh
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Sonny sits by his window and thinks to himself
How it's strange that some rooms are like cages
Sonny's yearbook from high school is down from the shelf
And he idly thumbs through the pages
Some have died, some have fled from themselves
Or struggled from here to get there
Sonny wanders beyond his interior walls
Runs his hands through his thinning brown hair
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don't want to end up a cartoon, in a cartoon playground
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'Michigan seems like a dream to me now. Counting the cars on the New Jersey turnpike, they've all come to look for America'.
Yeah, all of that.
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I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
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I like to sleep with the window open, and you like to sleep with the window closed.
So goodbye. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
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And you read your Emily Dickhinson
And I my Robert Frost
And we note our place with bookmarkers
that measure what we’ve lost
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Orangutans are skeptical of changes in their cages
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Who am I to blow against the wind
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Losing love is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you’re blown apart,
Everybody sees the wind blow.
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I can't stand Paul Simon because everything he writes is existential nails on a blackboard as this thread proves
You don't get suicidal ideation from Britney
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Apart from "my loneliness is killing me" I guess
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Looks like someone’s only heard about 5% of his output
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Oh no am I a non expert in the singer I don't like how devastating
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Wang has it. Also, 'You say you're depressed but you just like to stay in bed.'
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They give us those nice bright colours,
they give us those greens of summers,
Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day.
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He’s a better candidate for popular poet of the second half of the twentieth century than Bob Dylan... that Dylan got the Nobel prize for literature is an anomaly that will take some time to unwind.
Although for all his existential crispness with the pen he is still a man in his 70s who had a facelift.
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No, he really fooking isn’t, Kaulbach.
He’s a good lyricist and a good populariser of world music sounds, albeit somewhat lightfingered when it comes to cultural appropriation of musical styles.
But he’s not a patch on Dylan. Not even close.
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“popular” poet
Simon is to Dylan as Clinton Cards poetry is to Seamus Heaney
He’s clever, articulate and occasionally even witty. But Leonard Cohen and even Springsteen are better poets/lyricists. And harder working.
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He’s a genius jack. Supremely talented. Making music others could only dream of. To describe him as simply good is under selling.
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Let’s take this outside Jackie sun.
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He’s very good.
But Dylan poetically and artistically is in a different universe, never mind league.
In fairness to Simon, pretty much everyone else is also in a different universe from Dylan.
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He also was prepared to exploit black township jive while South Africa was still peak apartheid.
Not a good look, paulie. Not a good look at all.
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* take off jacket *
* does stretching exercises *
I have work on Monday so nothing to the face, ok?
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One of his songs
https://youtu.be/sFAoWwUwknc
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Dammit.
Chambers has come out for Team Simon.
I hereby concede that Dylan is the better songwriter / poet.
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When you talk about Dylan
He thinks you mean Dylan Thomas
The man ain’t got no culture
But it’s alright, Ma, everybody must get stoned
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Today I empathise a lot with this:
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
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Someone told me it's all happening at the zoo
I do believe it
I do believe it's true
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I love Paul Simon, but to suggest he is better than Dylan is just fooking moronic.
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I wasn't familiar with that one Jackofhearts, but it's hilarious, although listening to it right now, this seems pertinent...
"I've been Phil Spectored, resurrected"
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Bob Dylan must have the highest %ge of songs performed better by people other than himself of any artist.
TBF paul simon's mrs robinson is dog gack compared to the lemonheads
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holes in my confidence
holes in the knees of my jeans
I was left without a penny in my pocket
oooh-ee I was destitute as a kid could be
and I wished I wore a ring so I could hock it
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Why am i soft in the middle? The rest of my life is so hard...
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My father was a fisherman
My mother was a fisherman's friend
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Jackson Browne also a better poet than him.
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Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm
Couplets out of rhyme
In syncopated time
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Ooh, Paulie does “meta”
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I’m being unkind - he can write good lyrics, in fairness to him.
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I walked outside and smoked myself a j - went back in and blew the room away
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I walked outside and smoked myself a j - went back in and blew the room away
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Tonight I'll sing my songs again
I'll play the game and pretend
But all my words come back to me
In shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony
I need someone to comfort me
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0
He’s a poor boy,
empty as a pocket,
nothing to lose.
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'Hearts and Bones' is perfect.
https://youtu.be/vKFmS8o871E
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Just get on the bus, Gus, don't need tp discuss much.
Just get yourself free.
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I still don’t get the Dylan love in. Such classics as:
She aches just like a woman,
but she breaks like a little girl
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I love Dylan and I love Paul Simon. It’s like saying which is better, whisky or wine.
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"Kathy, I'm lost", I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
one of the lyrics that really haunts me
but the power of this is greater
… And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road
But I wish there was somethin' you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
But we never did too much talking anyway
But don't think twice, it's all right
… So it ain't no use in calling out my name, gal
Like you never done before
And it ain't no use in calling out my name, gal
I can't hear you anymore
I'm a-thinking and a-wonderin' walking down the road
I once loved a woman, a child, I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's all right
… So long honey, babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
Goodbye's too good a word, babe
So I'll just say, "Fare thee well"
I ain't a-saying you treated me unkind
You could've done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right
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0
One for the racist tozzas here:
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Paul Simon's A simple desultory philippic (or how I was nearly Robert McNamara'd into submission) tells all you need to know about Bob Dylan:
...
I knew a man, his brain so small
He couldn’t think of nothing at all
He’s not the same as you and me
He doesn’t dig poetry
He’s so unhip that
When you say Dylan, he thinks you’re talkin’ about Dylan Thomas
Whoever he was
The man ain’t got no culture
But it’s alright, ma
Everybody must get stoned
...
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Here's a Dylan cover at least as good as the original. From his mystical/tarot card phase.
https://youtu.be/cY2B_9KpRqk
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