“I accept chaos. I don’t know whether it accepts me.” — Bob Dylan / http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFRvlpO9lFI
The funny part about me and Bob Dylan was that I don’t even remember the first time I listened to his music. It could have been on the preview for the film ‘I’m Not There,’ which came out in 2007. The movie featured six brilliant, contemporary actors playing Dylan at specific moments in his wild life. Something about that film’s trailer touched my soul. Especially a moment where Heath Ledger, the now deceased actor, smiles while leaning his head backward in a vintage car, sunglasses on and beautiful girl beside him, as if the entire world were just lifted off his forehead. I needed to see that movie, yet somehow never got around to it, not while it was in theaters, anyway. Bob Dylan, though, seemed important and cool.
I downloaded a few of his songs, and again, for reasons unknown except within my soul, told myself to be patient and really give them a chance. I was downloading individual songs at random, not purchasing full albums. I liked Dylan’s attitude, and his vocals, which often turn people off at first listen, were soothing to me.
A year went by. I listened to Dylan occasionally. Got really wrapped up writing a script called “Ashes of New York,” which was a breakthrough creatively, and led me to believe wealth and riches were around the corner. When I refocused on the world of the real, beyond my candy-land fantasies of the Oscars and red carpets, Bob was waiting. I finally listened to a whole album, called ‘Blonde on Blonde.’ It’s a hallowed record in the pantheon of rock. Any attempt I can make, to convey the amazing, wonderful realization that so many of the songs I had grown to love were, in actuality, on this one singular piece of art called an album, would not do the epiphany justice. It was mind blowing. I finally understood that music was art, a musician is an artist with a vision, and an album could hold a thousand dreams.