Bob Dylan by Greil Marcus: Writings 1968-2010 (Public Affairs; $29.95; 481 pages)
“You have to pay to get out of going through these things twice.” Bob Dylan
In 1985, rock critic Greil Marcus was asked to review the book A Darker Shade of Pale: A Backdrop to Bob Dylan by Wilfred Meller, and his review began with these words: “This is a confused and confusing book about a confused and confusing figure: Bob Dylan, born 1941 in Duluth, Minnesota, as Robert Alan Zimmerman.” Well, back at you, Greil, as those would be the perfect words to describe this $30 collection of essays, previously published and unpublished. They all deal in some way – and some barely – with the subject of Bob Dylan. It might be said that Marcus’ essays on the man are dazed and confused.
It’s a bit shocking that Marcus does not come even close to enlightening the reader about Dylan the musician or the man. That’s shocking because just last year, he released a brilliant tome about Van Morrison (reviewed on this site on August 26, 2010), When That Rough God Goes Riding: Listening to Van Morrison. There, Marcus seemed to capture both Van’s heart and his soul, and it made the reader want to run to play his or her Morrison CDs. He was spot on there; here, no way.
Marcus seems confused because there are four Bob Dylans: the genius songwriter (“Like A Rolling Stone,” “Visions of Johanna”); the oh-so-casual writer of throw-away songs (“Watching the River Flow,” “Rainy Day Women No.s 12 & 35 [Everybody Must Get Stoned]”); the overly serious, angry and controlling musician (where there are similarities to Morrison); and the Joker, whose every action and comment is a complete put-on. Because Marcus cannot reconcile these four personalities in one person, he appears continually lost as to what’s going on with Mr. Hughes in his Dylan shoes. Sometimes he loves Dylan, sometimes he’s disappointed by him, sometimes he blasts him, but mostly he’s watching the parade go by and wondering about the meaning of it all.
As an example, he prints a section of the interview that Dylan gave to Playboy magazine back in 1966. The entire interview is a big joke – although it was lost to the magazine’s editors – and none of it is real. But Marcus has no comment on it.
One problem is that to properly understand and analyze Dylan, one must have a breadth of background as big and wide as Dylan’s. Such is not the case in this compilation… At one point Marcus does note that Dylan has relied on religious writings as the inspiration for many of his songs (the same is true of philosophers, not just prophets), but he does not supply any actual references. It’s a shame and one has to wonder if Marcus cribbed that point from another writer.
The writing is dull and flat and lacks the excitement of, say, a Lester Bangs or a John Mendelsohn. And yet when Van Morrison appears on the scene, as when Marcus writes of The Band’s final concert, The Last Waltz, the writing is suddenly sparkling – until Morrison leaves the stage, and it returns to being flat. So it seems that Marcus simply gets Morrison in a way that will never apply to Dylan.
“Along with a lot of other things, becoming a Bob Dylan fan made me a writer. I was never interested in figuring out what the songs meant.”
As you can see from this quotation, you’re not going to get much from Greil Marcus that’s going to help you understand Bob Dylan’s songs… Except… Except that he includes an almost-perfect review of Dylan’s singular 10-song masterpiece Blood on the Tracks. Which, as the Chuck Berry song says, goes to show you never can tell.
Marcus was quite tough in that ’85 review of Wilfred Meller’s book: “Meller’s language collapses along with his conceptual apparatus.” That sounds very harsh and professorial, does it not? Getting back to Bob Dylan by Greil Marcus, I’ll just say that there’s far less here than one would expect from a writer who wrote the liner notes to one of Bob Dylan’s major albums. Making your way through all of this is like going on an Easter egg hunt where no one finds any of the eggs.
A review copy was provided by the publisher.