A Simple Twist of Fate fails to deliver on promise

Review: A Simple Twist of Fate: Bob Dylan and the Making of Blood on the Tracks, by Andy Gill and Kevin Odegard, by Da Capo Press, 2005

By Stephen Pate

Sometimes you’ll read a book twice on purpose when you want to learn the contents. Other times you pick a book up and only realize around the second chapter you’ve read it before.

This was my second read of “A Simple Twist of Fate, Bob Dylan and the making of Blood on the Tracks” by Andy Gill and Kevin Odegard. A slight book at 212 pages, it didn’t seem like a waste of time to read again and it wasn’t; however the original annoyances returned almost immediately.

I’m probably not making this better, am I?

Well my Jehovah’s Witness cousin from way down Yarmouth, NS sent me a mysterious email.

TO: STEPHEN PATE

I REPEAT EMPHATICALLY – PLEASE DO NOT SEND ME ANY MORE EMAILS OR VIDEOS OR LINKS TO BLOGS OF ANY KIND! PLEASE TAKE ME OFF YOUR LIST!!!

THANK YOU ROR REPECTING MY REPEATEDLY EXPRESSED WISHES.

name withheld ( I typed that over the real one)

(see note at the end)

Now I don’t know about you but I find those all caps emails sort of rude and confusing.

First it’s hard to know where the sentence begins. Then there is the confusion over whether the message is an acronym, anagram or just someone really mad.

Being a Jehovah’s Witness, my cousin Jim is a mild mannered man of the Lord, a paragon of self-control and closeted anger. He would never be angry with me but believe in the Lord that I might be saved and join him in paradise – no in the garden sharing my dinner with the lions and my breakfast with the lambs.

The real Hockey Night in Canada theme

There is something to be said for too much education. It makes a fool of people. Like the Hockey Night in Canada theme.

First the CBC loses the song we remember – market 101 big mistake.

Second they don’t beg Stompin Tom to use his song.

Lest you think me a cretin, my favourite composers are Mozart, Puccini, Verdi, Bob Dylan and Stompin Tom.

Too much education makes you stupid. Pride keeps you there.

Go Stompin Tom.

Tell Tale Signs: new definition of page turning, free download

It was a pejorative to describe a web site as mere “page turning.”

Well Sony’s promotional page Bob Dylan’s new CD set Tell Tale Signs page has taken it to a new fun level.

The page has the graphics for Bob’s singles over the years. You can click an arrow and it will cycle through them.

Trying grabbing the upper outside corner and turning the page as you would a real book page. Cool.

Right up there with your own words on the video cards for Subterranean Homesick Blues.

The new CD is Bootleg # 8 and can be pre-ordered in three versions:
1. 2 CD’s with 27 songs US $19
2. 3 CD Deluxe set with 39 songs, a mini vinyl LP and a book US $129
3. Limited Edition 4 vinyl LP’s with 27 songs and a smaller book US $99

If history is anything to go by, the Deluxe and Limited Edition versions will sell out and the 2 CD regular version will suit most people.

I have many of the songs as bootlegs and they are worth listening to. It will be great to have them on official releases. The audio is always cleaned up.

For a limited time, Bob Dylan’s website is offering a free download of “Dreamin’ of You,” from Dylan’s 1997 Daniel Lanois-produced Time Out of Mind sessions.

“I think it can be easily done, just take everything down to Highway 61.”

Day One of Busking – Cmon Down and Sit a Spell

Tuesday was the first day of busking downtown and the sun felt good.

So good to be warm and let it burn your skin, just once before the goo goes on.

I was late setting up so things were rushed at noon on the corner of Queen and Richmond. Like who cares if I’m late: it’s not a job where you punch the clock.

Settling in – I got down to business and ripped through some originals like I Can’t Get Over You, Your Song, Don’t Quit on Me Tonight, Up on a Landing and Dan Aykroyd Tequila. A busker joined in with lead on I Can’t Get Over You which was cool.

Friends stopped by in the droves, so much that performance stopped by times. Danielle came over just as I was playing Mean Hearted Woman, the song she claimed as hers! Can you believe her?

Nick, Ted, Daniel, Kier, Jen, Gordie – the parade was endless. My bad-boy role as disability advocate had a few philistines heading for the opposite side of the street. What a hoot.

Then I played Dylan: Watchtower, Knockin on Heaven’s Door, Things Have Changed, Don’t Think Twice and an amazing acoustic Like a Rolling Stone. How does it feel to be all alone with no direction home.

Sunburned, hot and happy I quit. Ted Simmons came back so I gave him the corner, packed up and went home.

I love taking music to the streets. Yeah!

Bob Dylan’s a genius but that’s not news

Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan got a Pulitzer citation for

his profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power.

That’s nice. The stories are pouring in from every newspaper and they are fun to read.

But I’ve known he was special since 1963 when I first heard him.

Bob Dylan is one of the most influential artists of the last century. He defined musical genres before anyone knew what they were. He moved us in new directions, created more than 800 songs that always intrigued and challenged us.

He is entertaining which is important since great art must have a great audience.

I am constantly reminded of his appeal when I meet young people, 17 to 30 year olds, who discovered Dylan and hold him dear.

Enjoy.

Bob Dylan wins rock’s first Pulitzer

He’s given a special citation, and composer David Lang’s ‘The Little Match Girl Passion’ wins the music award. Two UCLA professors are among book winners.

“Theme Time Radio Hour With Your Host Bob Dylan,” a two-disc set available as an import in the U.S., contains 50 of the most colorful records played on the show. (AP)

Tribune news services
April 8, 2008

How does it feel to share the limelight with rock legend Bob Dylan?

This year’s Pulitzer Prizes in honored two musical innovators who tend to reject categorization: A special citation went to singer-songwriter Dylan, and the annual music award went to composer and Los Angeles native David Lang.

In an interview Monday, Lang enthusiastically mixed metaphors: “You know, I am not fit to touch the hem of his shoes. Bob Dylan is the only artist who’s in heavy rotation in my household.”

He added, “I told my children I won the Pulitzer, and they were like, ‘OK, big deal.’ But when I said, ‘OK, they gave a special award to Bob Dylan, just like me,’ they said, ‘Oh, this is really something.’ “

The 66-year-old Dylan, who said he was “in disbelief,” was cited for “his profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power.” His award marks the first Pulitzer given to a rock musician.

Lang, 51, co-founder and co-artistic director of the New York music collective Bang on a Can, won his prize for “The Little Match Girl Passion,” which premiered in October at Carnegie Hall in New York.

The piece, Lang said, was born of his personal struggle with the fact that much of classical music is rooted in Christian tradition. “It’s a very strange thing for a Jewish composer like me to deal with. The Bach St. Matthew Passion is one of the greatest pieces of all time and one that is not particularly good for the Jews.”

Lang said he decided to use the text from the crowd scenes in the Bach piece and, wherever there was a reference to the Crucifixion, substituted a reference to the death of the little match seller from the Hans Christian Andersen tale, who freezes to death on a city street on New Year’s Eve.

Lang, who spent his L.A. youth selling records at Tower Records and Wherehouse Records, said he tries to avoid labeling his work, including with the wide-open category “new music.”

“My whole life was about records,” he said, “and when you go into the record store, you see the world divided — here’s rock ‘n’ roll, here’s jazz, here’s opera. I am someone who wakes up in the morning and goes out of his way to make sure that my work does not belong in one of those boxes.”

This year’s arts awards also included playwright Tracy Letts, a longtime member of Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre Company, for his critically hailed Broadway tragicomedy about a dysfunctional Oklahoma family, “August: Osage County.” New York Times critic Charles Isherwood called it “probably the most exciting new American play Broadway has seen in years,” adding: “Oh, forget probably. It is.”

In literature, Junot Diaz won the prize for fiction for “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.” The novel, Diaz’s first book since his hit short-story collection “Drown” in 1996, concerns the “ghetto nerd” of its title, an awkward teenager who aims to become “the Dominican Tolkien.” Profane, street-smart, erudite and at times graphically violent, the novel juxtaposes a personal coming-of-age story in contemporary New Jersey with flashbacks to Dominican history.

Holocaust survivor and UCLA faculty member Saul Friedlander won the general nonfiction award for “The Years of Extermination: Nazi Germany and the Jews, 1939-1945.” UCLA professor emeritus Daniel Walker Howe won for history for “What Hath God Wrought: The Transformation of America, 1815-1848.” John Matteson won for biography for “Eden’s Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father.”

For the first time in Pulitzer history, two prizes were awarded in poetry, to Robert Hass for “Time and Materials” and Philip Schultz for “Failure.” Hass, an English professor at UC Berkeley, is noted for drawing on everyday imagery, often from the California countryside. Schultz, the author of five collections of poetry, including the National Book Award nominee “Like Wings,” founded the Writers Studio in 1987.

diane.haithman@latimes.com

Times staff writer Scott Timberg contributed to this report

Nat Hentoff – music and social activism

Google sent me an article on the Terri Schiavo right-to-live case written by Nat Hentoff. I was stopped in my tracks. This was Nat Hentoff of Down Beat Magazine fame. Apparently Hentoff has two sides to his writing career: jazz music and civil rights.

When I was a young lad in the 1960’s, Hentoff was an idol/model. He wrote jazz articles for Down Beat and Hi-Fi Stereo Review. Both contained record reviews and Hentoff was a prime contributor.

Hentoff was the writer on jazz. He wrote Bob Dylan’s liner notes for Freewheelin Bob Dylan and interviewed Dylan several times. Hentoff was an icon.

I wrote “Steve’s Record Review” for the Halifax Mail Star and learned a lot by reading Hentoff’s articles. I covered rock, folk, jazz and pop. I actually wrote him a fan letter.

So here we are at the other end of life and I discover we are both social activists with a passion for music and music writing. Awesome.

Bob Dylan Modern Times pre-sales start

By Stephen Pate

Tickets for the Bob Dylan Modern Times Tour at Moncton, Halifax and St. John’s went on pre-sale today.

Reviews of his Southwest, Mexican and South American performances have been glowing.

This is Dylan’s only Northeastern tour until mid-summer. After St. John’s, Dylan heads to Europe.

St. John NB doesn’t have pre-sales yet.

The open sale starts Saturday (check the venues for times)

Sales are brisk. I could only get mid-way along the lower bowl at supper time.

Bob Dylan to tour Atlantic Canada May 08

I couldn’t be happier than to find out Bob Dylan and his band will be playing 4 cities in Atlantic Canada this spring.

Starting in St. John NB on May 19th, he will move to Moncton on the 20th, Halifax on the 21st and St. John’s NF on May 24th. Must be taking the slow boat to Newfoundland.

This is the same tour he did a few years back, only in reverse.

This is a don’t miss tour. I saw Dylan 3 times each during the summers of 2005 and 2006. The music was awesome. The crowds super filled with everyone from babies to boomers.

Guess where I’ll be that week.

Tickets go on sale March 29th.

Leonard Cohen the best singer songwriter?

By Stephen Pate

With Cohen touring we are getting lots of newspaper inches about how wonderful he is. Nice to see the accolades but please ladies and gentlemen, let’s put it in perspective.

The Guardian called Cohen “arguably the greatest singer-songwriter of modern times”. I guess the key word is “arguably” in the phrase. The line is fluff from his official webpage.

Cohen is the child of Bob Dylan who clearly holds the title of greatest singer songwriter. Dylan created the modern poet singer songwriter and keeps creating at over 800 songs. Most modern singer songwriters credit Dylan as a main influence. He even influenced the Beatles.

On hearing Dylan, Cohen is reported to have said – if he can do that so can I.

What about Paul McCartney and then the duo Lennon/McCartney? Then there’s Tom Waits and Paul Simon and a host of others.

Here’s the BBC poll on Dylan’s 60th birthday of top singer songwriters.

Bob Dylan: 32.65%
John Lennon: 18.83%
Bob Marley: 13.64%
Paul McCartney: 8.47%
Paul Simon: 6.73%
Cole Porter: 5.63%
Jim Morrison: 4.44%
Eminem: 3.50%
Joni Mitchell: 3.47%
Irving Berlin: 2.64%

Cohen doesn’t make that list but he is 6th on the Paste Top 10

The Top 10

10. Prince
9. Joni Mitchell
8. Elvis Costello
7. Brian Wilson (The Beach Boys)
6. Leonard Cohen
5. Paul McCartney (The Beatles, Wings)
4. Tom Waits & Kathleen Brennan
3. Bruce Springsteen
2. Neil Young (Buffalo Sprinfield, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young)
1. Bob Dylan

A song to sing – Open mikes popular with all ages in clubs and community centres on the Island

Stephen Pate, Nick Teter and Ted Simmons, Baba’s Open Mic

SALLY COLE
The Guardian

Ed: Excerpt. see link to Guardian for the complete story

There’s an air of professionalism at Babas in Charlottetown where musicians are taking their music to the next level.

The place is a gathering spot for burgeoning songwriters who come to test out their new material.

“Anyone who has just come is invited to come up and sign the performance list,” says host Nick Teter, adjusting microphones for musicians Andrea MacDonald, Ted Simmons, Stephen Pate and a poet simply known as Alan.

As the emcee, he spends the evening mingling with artists, keeping their sound levels and spirits bright.

“If you play, you get a free glass of draft for your 15 minutes of fame,” says Teter, who has a definite knack for making people feel at home.

“It’s important to welcome people, especially if they’re new. If no one comes over to talk, sure, they may get up to play once, but they may never come back.”

The artists like the time that Teter puts into the show.

“Nick encourages everyone and is not afraid to show his appreciation. That’s why I come here — for the camaraderie and a chance to play my own compositions,” says Pate, after testing out his latest song.

For Simmons, the draw is getting to play in front of a live audience.

“I come every week to practise my live stage show. I really enjoy the atmosphere here,” says the singer-songwriter who performs a dynamic version of Bob Dylan’s North Country Blues.

Meanwhile, Teter gives a sigh of relief that all the music slots have been filled.

“My biggest fear is that no one will show up and I’ll have to play a lot of songs.

“While that normally isn’t bad, it’s not my show. It’s about the artists,” says the singer-songwriter.

A few blocks away, the mood is warm and relaxed at Hunter’s Ale House where artists have gathered for another open mike night.
Blake MacIsaac and Daniel Bowlan, Hunter’s Open Mic

Hosted by Danielle Bowlan, the Monday night gig is the highlight of her week.

“It’s fun, and interesting. We are always getting to hear new music and meet new people,” she says.

During the show, which also includes performances by Jessica Keough, Kassandra Veenhuis and Blake MacIsaac, she and Laura Oakie team up for some tight harmonies on Volcano and Nine Crimes and are rewarded with applause for their efforts.

“We’re constantly singing together. We enjoy coming here,” says Oakie, who is also a member of the Disco Rockin’ Llamas.

Daniel Bowlan and Laura Oakie, Hunter’s Open Mic

After playing together week after week, it feels like home, says Bowlan. “We’re all friends here so no one is afraid to go on.”

After playing together week after week, it feels like home, says Bowlan. “We’re all friends here so no one is afraid to go on.”

Why people steal music

People steal music on the internet because the music companies refuse to provide honest customer service. Sony/Columbia and the whole bunch of them are living in the past. As a result, most people just download their music for free.

My recent experience with honesty is so pathetic it makes me wonder why I bother. I was given a new Bob Dylan CD for Christmas – how thoughtful. The present came with a coupon to download an extra song – wow! That’s a new idea. A month later I still don’t have a song that works. I have the file but DRM or Digital Rights Management stops it playing.

Being a doo-bee, I sent three emails to Sony Columbia asking for help. Not a word, twitter or peep from them. If I really wanted the song, I could easily download it for free from a pirate site along with any other Dylan song I wanted, and videos too.

Why do I bother? Millions of other people have discovered the music companies are greedy people who didn’t make into the modern era.

While the music companies whine about lost profits and all that jazz, millions of songs are ripped off every day. For more reasons why see an insiders view.

And my bird can sing

Everyone should have a musical bird. Deeter is mine. He likes music. If I practice in the music room he screeches to get there. If I let him stay on my shoulder he will climb down either arm to watch what I do, picking hand or freting hand.

Weird you say, well watch the video. It’s not that easy to practice guitar and sing with a bird on your hand. Bird on a wire maybe but not a bird on your hand. Well let’s say its not a club act.

Two amazing things. I played a couple of songs and he refused to come down my arm for the camera until I threatened him with the end of music (at the front of the clip). He promptly walked down to my hand. What is that?

Then at the end he starts pinching my arm. Ouch! I had to stop and divert him back up my arm. Whereupon he proceeded to do his business on my sleeve. Talk about wearing your fart on your sleeve!

Then I remembered: when he nibbles and nips on me it’s the sign he wants to be taken back to the cage to do his duty. A housebroken bird, what next?

Enjoy.

Things found while cleaning

While cleaning my office I came across a large booklet called “Bob Dylan”. That’s amazing. There are very few things around here with that name on them. It is artfully made and contains a couple of interviews, one with Muddy Waters from 1978 and another from the Times Sentinel from 1992.

It must be one of those show programs from the US concerts. Usually those things catch your eye. The Muddy Waters interview makes this an interesting book.

Whilst you might find this hard to believe, I am not the devoted Bob Dylan fan you suspect. I eschew the role of “Fan”. Read on and you can leave your comments as to the appropriate label for me vis a vis Bob. There are whole decades of my life when I wouldn’t drive across town to see him perform. Lately I’ve made it a summer vacation.

I first heard Bob Dylan in high school after reading about and buying his second album “The Freewheelin Bob Dylan.” The folk boom was in full swing in 1963 and Bob Dylan was a fresh voice. Criteria for liking him included: I could play guitar like him, sing like him and the harmonica part seemed easy with a homemade coat-hanger harp holder. His songs were more interesting than the “Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore” material everyone else was singing.

Then there was protest. I was a natural student protester. Young people were protesting whatever was wrong with the universe and I was in the thick of it. We protested autocratic school principals, the war in Vietnam and Civil Rights. Some things haven’t changed have they? Take it to the streets!

Thus began a life of collection all things Bob Dylan. I must have every album, on vinyl and CD, plus Super Audio CD. I have 120 hours of bootlegs, concert recordings made by people in the audience. For example, within 2 weeks of going to the Pittsfield Massachusetts concert last year, someone posted the whole concert on the web. I was playing it on my computer when Edith said “Hey, that’s the concert.” Pretty cool.

I have books on Dylan’s life, books on his recordings, books on his concerts, books on his poetry, and dry but interesting books that dissect his music and literary influences.

I have VHS recordings of concerts, DVD’s legal and bootlegged, video recorded by me and other people in the audience, “Ronaldo and Clara” the unreleased movie, “Hard Rain” the Japanese TV program not released in North America. There is a rate computer multi-media CD that works on Windows and older Mac’s. It contains interview with people from Greenwich Village in the 60’s and from the studio recording of Highway 61. Mac’s are so disappointing. Backward compatibility is never their strong card. It used to play on my Mac from 1993 but wouldn’t work on my Powerbook.

So write in your comments. Give my interest/devotion a name. I’m going to put the program in a safe place.

Synchronicity one more time

,

There are moments in life and music when the events collide to form moments of synchronicity. Last night at Baba’s was one where Ryan, Alex and I played away on five songs and caught the groove.

Only habit can explain why I went last night. I was exhausted from a day of promoting the message of Hope for Islanders with disabilities. I got home at 8 pm and began to practice. I wanted to perform Dylan’s Chimes of Freedom, a poetic but long song from 1964.
Andrea was back in the Host’s seat at Baba’s, albeit only as replacement for Nancy who is the new permanent host. We talked about her road trip and the summer of music that approaches.

By the time I got up to perform Ryan and Alex arrived so we repeated our trio act from the week before. I’ve been playing with Ryan for a few years but only 3 or 4 times with Ryan. Kerrie introduced us. We never practice, a strategy of chaos looking for a Muse.

The stage lights were out so I couldn’t see squat of the lyrics. We got a moderate groove going but I just could not see the song sheet. I probably know 80% of the words but that is not enough. I quit after 3 of 7 verses. It was a bar clearing performance.

OK boys lets kick it up. We did two fast original blues numbers and the sound caught the groove. Alex was laying down a solid and imaginative bass line to my left. Ryan was alternatively noodling and soaring on acoustic lead to the right.

We did Rainy Day Women (aka Everyone Must Get Stoned) but something didn’t click with the crowd. We liked it but they seemed indifferent.
Andrea asked for a 5th song, so off we went into It Ain’t Me Babe. Forget what you know about that chestnut. This is a funky bass driven blues number than drones between Em+g and C+g. I’ve done it by myself with the synth guitar plus organ, which is cool. This was the first time with bass, which this arrangement needs. The song grabbed the groove and held it. The audience was caught up in it, the moody bluesy insistent groove. It really worked.

That’s why I play, for those transcendent moments when the music catches and pulls you upward and away from the earth. It happens often enough to keep me hooked

Born in 1948

A friend sent me an internet page with important facts about the year you were born.

I was born in 1948, a quiet event that was destined to shape my destiny and the destiny of the planet for decades to come.

I was a boomer, an early one. I saw TV arrive in the Maritimes and watched Leave It To Beaver and Gunsmoke. I listened to Elvis on 45’s and witnessed his passing. I fell head over heals for the Beatles.

A child of the 60’s, I protested the War in Vietnam and Racial Equality. I fell for Bob Dylan as a folk, protest and rock singer. Learned to play guitar, harmonica and drums. Watched Kennedy get assassinated on TV along with King and Bobby.

I went back to the land in the 70’s, got serious about business in the 80’s, raised five children, and retired in the 90’s.

I’m back to Dylan, protest and Make Love Not War.

I am one of millions and we are still defining the age we live in.

Fishing blues

Apparently fishing is not productive over the web. Those fishies they see you but they run away. At supper last night it was brief topic of conversation that fishing for presents would only mean an empty hook.

I thought it was just a fun little Blog about my Dylan habit. Things can be mis-interpreted when a fella is just havin fun. My mind musta been on Taj Mahal when I wrote that little ditty cause now I got the fishin’ blues.

Betcha goin fishin all of your time, baby’s goin fishing too
Bet your life, your sweet life, catch more fish than you
Many fish bites if ya got good bait
Here’s a little tip i would like to relate

Big fish bites if ya got a good bait
I ‘a goin fishin
Yes i’m goin fishin
And my baby’s goin fishin too.

Self control for adults is not easy

Self control is no easier for adults than it is for children. Usually the difference is adults have the cash or where-with-all to indulge their whims whereas children might have to wait on the largesse of others.

I’m a Bob Dylan collector. I have most of the albums as vinyl lp’s, even Love and Theft which my son-in-law gave me for X-Mass. Then I have the CD’s. Two years ago at Christmas I received, with only a modicum of hinting, the 16 SACD package. Better sound you know – that’s important.

I have so many Bob Dylan framed posters we ran out of wall space last year and only renovations will get them on the walls. There are Bob Dylan hats, scarves, a lovely hoodie I gave to my son (what was I thinking!), t shirts, sweaters.

Thanks to two nieces and my girl friend, I have some great Bob Dylan picture books – coffee table style. My sister bought me all Dylan’s lyrics one year. There are dozens and dozens of sheet music books, plus one big one of all the songs he wrote with piano and chord notation. Hannah got me another Bob Dylan book: she was only 10. I’m going to mark the donor’s name inside because there are so many and I want to remember who gave me what.

Then there are more than 20 hardcover and softcover books: biographies, an autobiography, music commentaries, touring guides, recording guides, and a poetry commentary which I reviewed recently.

There are videos in VHS format, Laser disc and DVD’s plus a rare multi-media presentation for both Mac and Windows from the early 90’s. I have over 70 hours of concert recordings both video and audio that are hard to find.

Thanks to Eyolf Østrem, I have 500 plus songs with lyrics and guitar tabs. This is the goldmine – the first source of all research into Dylan’s music.

So is that everything? Thankfully not – they just released ‘Bob Dylan: Dont Look Back – 65 Tour Deluxe Edition’. I have ‘Don’t Look Back’ on VHS and Laser disc but this one is special. It has cleaned up video and sound. A second documentary that has been hidden for 40 years – we knew it was in Pennebaker’s possession but not ours. Plus a gaggle of extras.

The problem is I promised myself to stay off my Dylan acquisition habit…for awhile. Hmmm, my birthday is coming up. Yes I should wait for that to roll around. I love self-control. It’s so, so, so empowering.

Oh look, they just released the Gospel Songs of Bob Dylan. That looks good.

My Left Foot, part deux – my musical career

Other than looking like a stick, the two most prominent drawbacks to my left foot were slow-poke and pain.

One August, the YMCA held an hike to Kearney Lake for a picnic and swim. It was a scorcher of a day. The path was uphill along granite boulders, reflecting the heat like brick in an oven. All the hikers set out together. Soon I was at the back of the pack. A few considerate hikers tried to stay with me but realized they’d miss the pre-lunch swim if they didn’t pick up the pace.

I trudged on for two hours, dragging my left foot, or in my mind my Really Bad Foot. Arriving at noon, I was just in time to eat my lunch. I couldn’t swim and cool down because I had just eaten and if I got my left foot wet it would probably chafe in my brace.

Before I could enjoy the swim, the hikers started cat-calls of “make Stephen start early or he’ll hold up the bus.” The YMCA leader agreed and I trudged back down the hill. That was slow-poke.

After slow-poke comes the pain. Inevitably, trying to keep up with people who don’t know their left foot from their right will induce excruciating pain.

I don’t know why counselors feel hell-bent on telling children with disabilities to ‘be all they can be.’ Being all you can might just be reading a book at the library and becoming a rocket scientist or rich business financier, none of which requires hikes to Kearney Lake when you have my left foot.

Seeking a career in music, I joined a marching band in Grade 8 to learn the clarinet. My left foot was not required to play the clarinet. I mostly sat in a seat. The music stand held up the music and I played with my fingers. That seemed like a safe choice of musical instrument; that is until they announced the students were going to march in the 3 mile civic day parade. Thus ended my musical career with the clarinet.

Moving on, I tried drums, which seemed unlikely participants in any walking exercises. I practiced drum solos like “Wipe Out” and “Roll Over Beethoven” night and day. My left foot took a dim view of this career move. It refused to help with the tiniest movement on the high-hat cymbal. Not a peep or a twitch. So to perform some fancy cymbal work, I had to take my right foot off the bass drum and work the high-hat. If you’ve ever heard a drummer do this, you will know I was not destined to be Ringo Starr’s replacement with the Beatles.

Accepting my left foot for what it was – a smaller useless version of my right foot – I took up the guitar. I didn’t need a left foot for the guitar. After learning the requisite three chords, I had visions of becoming a rock or folk star. Then I observed that rock stars do a lot of prancing and dancing on the stage and stay up way too late for my left foot. I didn’t think this prancing enhanced their music but the female fans seemed to love it. I resigned myself to being a home musician, plunking for my own amusement. My left foot had its way again.

When I started to work in the business world, I discovered that my left foot was not only useless, it was an expensive pest. Remember the part about smaller: my left foot is two sizes smaller and double E width, almost unheard of in shoes under $150. A new pair of leather brogues is a $300 shopping trip, since my left foot wants its own smaller pair.

My left foot also shows a lack of frugality by forever ignoring the right side of its pair, except for the shoe laces. Thank goodness for using the laces or I would feel the extra pair was a complete waste of money.

Lest I give the impression that my left foot is good for nothing let me assure you there is no better barometer of the future: if it is cold anywhere within 100 miles or if it will be cold later, my left foot will let me know. My left foot can be cold on a hot day in July. The weather must be changing for the worse somewhere else.

It doesn’t seem to work the other way, since it never anticipates summer or advises me when it will finally be warm.

I recently discovered another advantage to my left foot while in church. The priest told me I was destined to be St. Stephen of Charlottetown. Not doubting him, I kept my past sinful history and the stories about my bad left foot to myself.

However, it is impossible to hide during Mass since I have to sit in the centre isle in a wheelchair. Do you think they will ever make a space for wheelchairs in the pews? That is another story.

All during Mass, my right foot is tapping away to some Bob Dylan song that is rattling around in my head. My left foot, however, is piously and quietly listening to everything that is being said by the priest. It doesn’t genuflect so well anymore but it is attentive and this looks good, especially compared with its wicked brother who cannot contain himself for an hour a week.

The way I figure it, when I get to St. Peter at the Heavenly Gates, I am going to lead with my left foot for the first time in my life. It will be putting my best foot forward don’t you know.

My Left Foot, part deux

Daniel Day-Lewis won an Oscar for his portrayal of Irish writer Christie Brown in the movie My Left Foot, based on Brown’s autobiography. In the movie, Day-Lewis did a fantastic job of portraying Brown, his struggle with cerebral palsy and life as a person with a disability.

This is not the same story. This story is about my left foot, the one the hangs at the end of my left leg. I could have called the story my left foot and leg, but you may have stopped reading. If some movie producer wants to produce another blockbuster film about my left foot, I can play the part as a body double. I think George Clooney would be just right for the rest of me.

My story is personal but also a metaphor. We all have some cross to bear: trick elbow, blind eye, bum knee, weak heart, or stupid relatives. I threw in the ‘stupid relatives’ since they might as well be joined to you at the hip and they can be vexatious. Think of this as ‘Salvific Dolores,” with a sense of humour.

My left foot started life pretty normally about 58 years ago, right alongside my right foot. Everything was going well until I was three and the polio virus infected my spinal column. My left foot lost a few million motor neurons.

Within a short time, my left foot decided to do nothing. Decisions on where to go or how to get there were being made by my right foot. “Let’s go straight ahead” decides my right foot. “Whoops, come on left leg. Don’t turn the wrong way.” The outcome of this confused left foot versus right foot thinking was me landing somewhere close to or on the ground. To tame my left leg, doctors gave it a steel brace so that it had to go where my right leg wanted.

However as an early benefit of my left foot I gained the knowledge of left and right, not quit nuclear physics but handy. Most children don’t know their left from their right, along with a surprising number of adults. For me there was no mistaking my left from my right. Whenever someone asked for a right hand on this or a left hand on that, my arm shot up like a rocket.

My right leg was robust, healthy, a little pudgy perhaps. It tripped merrily along paths and walkways, jumped over rocks and puddles. My left leg was small, unhealthy, and rickety. It looked like it was from Ichibod Crane’s body: definitely not part of me. My left foot was only handy for dragging along, tripping over lines in the sidewalk, and falling in puddles.

My left foot was not without its advantages: say I expected a hard test in school and hadn’t studied. I just let the left foot do its job on the way to school and “Bob’s your uncle” my pants were wet from falling in a puddle along the path. Then I could drag the dejected little foot back home, look sorrowful and mother would wrap me in a warm blanket, propped in front of the TV with milk and cookies. Teachers don’t like to strap a child with a bad left foot so I can got away with a little more devilry than most kids.

Describing my left foot as just ‘left’ didn’t seem enough. People had superstitions about left-handedness that included aspersions of evil and possession by demons. I renamed it “My Bad Foot,” which was of course attached to “My Bad Leg”. This seemed a simple, if not clever, bit of double-think. It kept me from thinking my whole body and soul were “left” or evil; just my left leg was in that category. The rest of me was quite normal if not extraordinary.

The trick was not to see myself walking in a mirror to remind me of my left foot as it really was. Anyone who tried to advise me that I walked funny was the deserving recipient of my left hook.

Tomorrow – part two – a musical career

It Ain’t Me Babe

Wow – the new arrangement went over great at Baba’s. I could see people were held by the tension. I should think about recording it this weekend – that sounds vague doesn’t it. It would be better if I had my drum kit back together and could cobble together a bass. Drums will have to wait – the music room is too crazy but maybe I can find a bassist.

Disability Support Blues went over well. That is a triplets groove song – too fast or too slow and it bombs.

The next two “Is Your Love in Vain” and “Your Song” suffered from the proximity effect – two finger style ballads with string accompaniment lulling people to sleep. Robert Arsenault used to insist in the band Expecting Rain – one ballad per set of 8 songs. He knows.

Expecting Rain 2004: Todd King, Jeff Smith, S Pate, Robert Arsenault, Heidi Juri, Matt Chandler

Chistopher Ricks: Dylan’s Vision of Sin

I am writing this Blog with a heavy dose of Bloggers Regret – I’ve written so much lately I have tennis elbow. So with arm brace and pain I am setting down to write these words. Does that make them seem more important or me careless?

Last spring while visiting Laura, I took off in my wheelchair along College and spotted this little shop, Used Books it said. At least it wasn’t Dead Parrots and Ironware. Inside I found a gold-mine of Bob Dylan books and being without any restraint purchased eight.

The least likely to get read was a thick tome of 500 pages called “Dylan’s Visions of Sin” by Christopher Ricks. OK so “Sin” on the title page was attractive. So was the author’s pedigree: he was the editor of the “Oxford Book of English Verse” a book I have owned since university and a professor at Oxford University. People steal OBEV and I buy another. He has also written on some of my fave poets like T S Elliot, Keats, Tennyson, and A E Houseman. Why is he writing about Bob Dylan?

Let’s get past the canard that you like his songs but he can’t sing, or you like his singing but his looks stink, or he isn’t a poet, etc. ad nauseum. Bob Dylan is the single most influential singer/songwriter to hit this planet ever. He copied everyone before him and added to it his own genius. What kind of a genius steals from the Bible, Shakespeare, Milton and TS Elliot with impunity?

Without him there would be no Bruce Springsteen (a pale imitation), John Prine, Neil Young, no anybody who is doing what music is about today – relevant songs that the singer wrote himself. When I listen to his progeny it’s painfully clear they think he authorized guitar accompanied introspection. Most of their lyrics are mundane, prosaic, and forgettable.

Dylan has written 500 plus songs over 5 decades many of which define how we have felt along the way. If you want to see an artist in the middle of self-recreation, check out one of his concerts. It’s like Picasso re-painting his paintings over and over.

OK so what about the book? Ricks is a proponent of the “close reading” of poetry. How close? Very close – you will go on wonderful trips where he compares “Not Dark Yet” from “Time Out of Mind” to Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale” line for line. After you digest that he points out how Keats was inspired by Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 73.” I would love to have his grasp of poetry and literature for he also brings in Becket and others. Word for word, line by line he draws out the beauty and significance of Dylan’s work.

The book is arranged around the seven deadly sins, the four cardinal virtues and the three heavenly graces. Ricks discusses songs that explempify or defy the sins, virtues and graces. This is not accidental for Dylan is a classic moralist. Dylan knows you can’t defy the Gods and remain a serious artist.

The popular press and pundits are constantly judging Dylan: such is the lot of an artist. It reminds me of the people who critiqued Van Gogh (too much yellow and blue) or Gauguin (who are those naked natives. You can tell Ricks is impressed by Dylan during every period of his artistic career. Ricks makes you appreciate Dylan, even in his missteps, as the great artist he is.

This book is not an easy read. I guarantee if you like poetry, are a poet, or songwriter it will interest you. My songwriting has improved from a single read. I’ve got to read it, no study it song by song, instead of trying read to get to the end.

There are other scholarly books on Bob Dylan: this one is my favourite for its emphasis of poetry and song structure independent of the music. Next: “Song and Dance Man” by Michael Gray.

My arm doesn’t hurt as much. I’m going to practice “It Ain’t Me Babe.” If you’ve heard Dylan in concert in the last few years, you’ll remember the new arrangement. Each line starts in Em and ends on C/D. The song is held there in chains until the chorus where the tune is allowed to break out to F G and back to C. The beat is one two one two one two, insistent and incessant. Lots of fun.

Coming Attractions

This has been the week of the almost deliverable. I almost finished a report on Disability. I almost finished a new arrangement of “It Ain’t Me Babe” and I almost finished a book review of Christopher Ricks’ “Dylan’s Visions of Sin.”

The Disability report attempts to describe the current PEI situation and provide solutions. It’s off my desk for review.

“It Ain’t Me Babe” is a venerable Dylan song; however, like all venerable Dylan songs its too well known. While I am amazed at the cool C’ D’ chords, people get up to leave the room when you play it. The new arrangement comes from his 2004 ‘Never Ending Tour’. Very dark. Deeter does not like it: he tries to fly away. Too many bass notes: too moody. It’s coming together and may get a tryout at Baba’s this week.

I started spelling Baba’s correctly just a half an hour ago. Hey, it’s dark up there and who reads signs.

Ricks’ “Dylan Visions of Sin” – er, I didn’t start the review except in my head. I still have one more report to write but I think it’ll be done after lunch. The book review will be in the next 24 hours. Great book if you are a student of poetry or songwriting.

The office is still full of guitars, amps, recorders, the synth and cables. Now I have my two favourite things in one place: music and computers. They suggested a bed will be next. I’ll design a bed that comes down from the ceiling and hovers over the mess. That way I won’t have to put anything away.

What am I up to?

I just spent the last two days listening to the testimony of 4 parents whose children have autism. Some of the coverage is on the Disability Alert site.

I feel drained and hopeless after hearing the stories. How could anyone let that happen? Yet I am optimistic. We will fix this problem. Maybe they will win their case at Human Rights. Or maybe we will take to the streets in protest this cruel government.

We’ll do what it takes.

To keep myself sane, I went to Baba’s tonight and had a great jam with Ryan. We did Mean Woman Blues, Love Starts Too Easy (my stuff) and a rocking All Along the Watchtower. It was great fun. Moe was taking our pics so I have to track her down on the web and weasel copies from her. Great to see so many people. Met the new owner of back alley disks.

Kerrie came with me but left with Jessica to go dancing! I hate it when the girl you brought leaves to go somewhere else with another girl! Whaa?