You know Bob Dylan—the guy born to a Jewish family in Duluth, Minnesota, in 1941.
His birth name was Robert Zimmerman, and he spent his childhood around the Gopher State’s iron ore mines.
He taught himself a few instruments, enrolled at the University of Minnesota, and duly dropped out.
From there, he landed in New York City and started to make a name for himself in the folk music scene.
He wasn’t the best guitarist. Or pianist. His vocals were nasal, even annoying. And the wretched harmonica…
Dylan was complex—perhaps even cantankerous. He could be prickly with the media, and marital discord seemed all but guaranteed. For a time, he dabbled in Evangelical Christianity, alienating even his most ardent supporters.
But the dude could think—and write.
Proof lies in his catalog, now 40 studio albums and over 600 songs deep.
In recent years, that catalog has landed nine figures for publishing rights and another nine figures for the recordings.
Along the way, Dylan has inspired two Martin Scorsese documentaries and a book by a Harvard classics professor comparing him to Homer and Virgil.
In 2016, he won the Nobel Prize in Literature.
Comfortably into his 80s, Dylan continues to tour, and audiences continue to listen.
But, you might ask yourself, why?
What in his work warrants such reverence?
Here’s a brief sampling.
To get it, you have to listen—really listen—and then make of the words what you will.
“A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” (1963)
And what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest dark forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
And the executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where the souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and speak it and think it and breathe it
And reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
“Blowin’ in the Wind” (1963)
Yes, ‘n’ how many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, ‘n’ how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, ‘n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind
“The Times They Are A-Changin'” (1965)
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’
“Political World” (1990)
We live in a political world
Where mercy walks the plank
Life is in mirrors
Death disappears
Up the steps into the nearest bank
“Pay in Blood” (2012)
Low cards are what I’ve got
But I’ll play this hand whether I like it or not
I’m sworn to uphold the laws of God
You can put me out in front of a firin’ squad
I been out and around with the risin’ men
Just like you, my handsome friend
My head’s so hard, must be made of stone
I pay in blood but not my own
Sure, Bob Dylan never came up with girl, you looks good, won’t you back that azz up.
But he’s done alright.
All lyrics by Bob Dylan, found at azlyrics.com
