ボブ・ディラン = Bob Dylan
日本のシングル集 = Japanese Singles Collection
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| Good selection of songs, right? Track 15 of CD1 is rare and a nice inclusion. |
The 'Japanese Singles Collection' was released in March 2020 for the Japanese domestic market on the Sony Music Japan International label. It was released to coincide with Bob's planned 14-date 2020 Japanese tour, scheduled for April 2020 in Tokyo and Osaka, that was cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic. The tour was set to feature small, intimate venues like Zepp DiverCity and Zepp Namba. A sticker with the fifteen tour dates is attached to the front shrinkwrap.
The 31 singles in this collection from 1965 through 1985 are in Japanese domestic market release date order, not chronological order.
The audio (in Sony's Blu-spec 2CD) has really impressive sonics.
For the freeload, post one verse from some of your favorite Zimmy's songs.
In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
ReplyDeleteAnd the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's insane
Louise, she's all right, she's just near
She's delicate and seems like the mirror
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place
Johnny's in the basement, mixin' up the medicine
ReplyDeleteI'm on the pavement, thinkin' about the government
The man in a trench coat, badge out, laid off
Says he's got a bad cough, wants to get it paid off
Look out, kid, it's somethin' you did
God knows when, but you're doin' it again
You better duck down the alleyway, looking for a new friend
The man in the coon-skin cap in a pig pen
Wants eleven dollar bills, you only got ten
^^^Sorry, c'est moi. Also, all of Clothes Line Saga & Bob Dylan's 115th Dream....and so many, so much more
Delete
ReplyDeleteI had a job in the great north woods
Working as a cook for a spell
But I never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell
So I drifted down to New Orleans
Where I happened to be employed
Workin’ for a while on a fishin’ boat
Right outside of Delacroix
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind
I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue
As a young kid, I would frequently go with my father to Delacroix Island, down to Johnny Melarine's boat launch, for day long fishing trips. The road there ended with a metal Sunbeam Bread sign, with the inscription, "Welcome to the End of the World."
If he can be believed - he has said this song is autobiographical:
ReplyDelete"You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you
You say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard, but you don't understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?"
I can believe it
DeleteI don't believe you.
Delete"Ah, but I was so much older then / I'm younger than that now"
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteWell, the Lone Ranger and Tonto
They are ridin’ down the line
Fixin’ ev’rybody’s troubles
Ev’rybody’s ’cept mine
Somebody musta tol’ ’em
That I was doin’ fine
I started out on burgundy
ReplyDeleteBut soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to bluff
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough.
The guilty undertaker sighs
The lonesome organ grinder cries
The silver saxophones say I should refuse you
The cracked bells and washed-out horns
Blow into my face with scorn
But it's not that way
I wasn't born to lose you
All the early Roman kings
In their sharkskin suits
Bow ties and buttons
High top boots
Drivin' the spikes in
Blazin' the rails
Nailed in their coffins
In top hats and tails
Well, the Book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy
The law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers
In the smoke of the twilight on a milk-white steed
Michelangelo indeed could've carved out your features
Resting in the fields, far from the turbulent space
Half asleep near the stars with a small dog licking your face.
The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place.
I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm movin' but I'm standin' still
Every nerve in my body is so naked and numb
I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from
Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
The battle outside ragin'
Will soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'
She was there, in the meadow, where the creek used to rise
ReplyDeleteBlinded by sleep, and in need of a bed
I came in from the East, with the sun in my eyes
I cursed her one time, then I rode on ahead
The cabaret was empty now, a sign said, "Closed for repair"
Lily had already taken all of the dye out of her hair
She was thinkin' 'bout her father, who she very rarely saw
Thinkin' 'bout Rosemary and thinkin' about the law
But, most of all she was thinkin' 'bout the Jack of Hearts
Down every street there's a window
And every window made of glass
We'll keep on lovin' pretty baby
For as long as love will last
Beyond here lies nothin'
But the mountains of the past
Thanks Babs
Granpa died last weekend and he's buried on the rocks
ReplyDeleteeverybody talks about how badly they were shocked
but me i something something
I knew he'd lost control
when he built a fire on Main Street
and shot it full of holes.
(from memory, obvs)
expected it to happen
DeleteTo go a bit away from the obvious:
ReplyDeleteTweeter and the Monkey Man were hard up for cash
They stayed up all night selling cocaine and hash
To an undercover cop who had a sister named Jan
For reasons unexplained, she loved the Monkey Man
Tweeter was a boy scout 'fore she went to Vietnam
And found out the hard way nobody gives a damn
They knew that they'd find freedom just across the Jersey Line
So they hopped into a stolen car, took Highway 99
No one tried to say a thing
ReplyDeleteWhen they carried him out in jest
Except, of course, the little neighbor boy
Who carried him to rest
And he just walked along, alone
With his guilt so well concealed
And muttered underneath his breath
"Nothing is revealed"
C in California
ANON RF: You know it has to be:
ReplyDeleteAnd take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow
Sorry in advance for quoting the whole darn thing, but it's a masterpiece in its entirety.
ReplyDelete- Jon in Cali
With your mercury mouth in the missionary times,
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes,
And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes,
Oh, do they think could bury you?
With your pockets well protected at last,
And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass,
And your flesh like silk, and your face like glass,
Who could they get to carry you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I put them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace,
And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace,
And your basement clothes and your hollow face,
Who among them can think he could outguess you?
With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims,
And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns,
Who among them would try to impress you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I put them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
The kings of Tyrus with their convict list
Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss,
And you wouldn't know it would happen like this,
But who among them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your midnight rug,
And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs,
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs,
Who among them do you think could resist you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
To show you the dead angels that they used to hide.
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
Oh, how could they ever mistake you?
They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm,
But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm,
And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms,
How could they ever, ever persuade you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row,
And your magazine-husband who one day just had to go,
And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show,
Who among them do you think would employ you?
Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
With your holy medallion which your fingertips fold,
And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul,
Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,
Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
I'm old Tom Moore from the bummer's shore in that good old golden days
ReplyDeleteThey call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise ?
I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign
And all the people say, "There goes Tom Moore, in the days of '49"
Tommy Hall wrote some of the best Dylan-inspired lyrics, and sung them from memory. There's that same stream-of-consciousness freedom and risk-taking, with a sense of poetic intent that keeps the song strangely coherent. There's a huge difference between being inspired by Dylan, drawing from the same well, and "doing Dylan".
ReplyDeleteSlip Inside This House
Bedouin in tribes ascending from the egg into the flower
Alpha information sending states within the heaven shower
From disciples the unending subtleties of river power
They slip inside this house as they pass by
If your limbs begin dissolving in the water that you tread
All surroundings are evolving in the stream that clears your head
Find yourself a caravan like Noah must have led
And slip inside this house as you pass by
Slip inside this house as you pass by
True conception, knowing why
Brings even more than meets the eye
Slip inside this house as you pass by
In this dark we call creation, we can be and feel and know
From an effort, comfort station, that's surviving on the go
There's infinite survival in the high baptismal glow
Just slip inside this house as you pass by
There is no season when you are grown
You are always risen from the seeds you've sown
There is no reason to rise alone
Other stories given have sages of their own
Live where your heart can be given and your life starts to unfold
In the forms you envision in this dream that's ages old
On the river layer is the only sayer
You receive all you can hold like you've been told
Every day's another dawning, give the morning winds a chance
Always catch your thunder yawning, lift your mind into the dance
Sweep the shadows from your awning
Shrink the fourfold circumstance
That lies outside this house, don't pass it by
Higher worlds that you uncover, light the path you want to roam
You compare there and discover, you won't need a shell of foam
Twice born gypsies care and keep
The nowhere of their former home
They slip inside this house as they pass by
Slip inside this house as you pass by
You think you can't, you wish you could
I know you can, I wish you would
Slip inside this house as you pass by
Four and twenty birds of Maya baked into an atom you
Polarized into existence, magnet heart from red to blue
To such extent, the realm of dark
Within the picture, it seems true
But slip inside this house and then decide
All your lightning waits inside you, travel it along your spine
Seven stars receive your visit, seven seals remain divine
Seven churches filled with spirit, treasure from the angels' mine
To slip inside this house as you pass by
Slip inside this house as you pass by
The space you make has your own laws
No longer human, Gods are cause
The center of this house will never die
There is no season when you are grown
You are always risen from the seeds you've sown
There is no reason to rise alone
Other stories given have sages of their own
Draw from the well of unchanging and its union nourishes on
In the right rearranging till the last confusion is gone
Water brothers trust in the ultimust
Of the always singing song they pass along
One-eyed men aren't really reigning
They just march in place until
Two-eyed men with mystery training finally feel the power fill
Three-eyed men are not complaining
They can yo-yo where they will
They slip inside this house as you pass by
Don't pass it by
"Drawing from the same well" reminds me of a Townes Van Zandt story (probably apocryphal) about how all songwriters fish in the same river, but Dylan is upstream of everyone else and catches the best lines.
DeleteBut now we've got weapons of chemical dust
ReplyDeleteIf fire them we're forced to, then fire them we must
One push of the button and they shot the world wide
And you never ask questions when God's on your side
Through many dark hour I been thinkin' about this
That Jesus Christ was betrayed by a kiss
But I can't think for you, you'll have to decide
Whether Judas Iscariot had God on his side
So now as I'm leavin', I'm weary as hell
The confusion I'm feelin' ain't no tongue can tell
The words fill my head, and they fall to the floor
That if God's on our side, he'll stop the next war
You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.
ReplyDeleteSeveral verses that I might have selected are already here, and I compliment all of y'all on good taste. It's hard to select just one from this song, but...
ReplyDeleteThe machine guns are roaring
The puppets heave rocks
The fiends nail time bombs
To the hands of the clocks
Call me any name you like
I will never deny it
Farewell Angelina
The sky is erupting
I must go where it’s quiet
D in California :^)
DeleteI really appreciated his Theme Time Radio Hour Series.
ReplyDeleteLink
ReplyDeletehttps://workupload.com/file/TZ4FHP82Rwn
Thank you!
DeleteTo live outside the law you must be honest
ReplyDelete^^^this
DeleteGod said to Abraham kill me a son
ReplyDeleteAbe said man you must be puttin' me on
God said, no, Abe said what?
God said you can do what you want Abe, but the next time you see me comin' you better run
We regularly take Mississippi Highway 6 to Clarksdale, then head south to Merigold MS (a favorite pottery). When we turn onto Highway 61, this verse gets shouted.
Deletedecades ago, that drive was so pretty
DeleteAll the tired horses in the sun ?how'm I supposed to get any ridin' done
ReplyDeleteI thought it was "how'm I supposed to get any writing done," which obviously Bob wasn't doing much at the time.
DeleteThey're selling postcards of the hanging
ReplyDeleteThey're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad, they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row
That's probably my favorite. I guess I identify as "pessimist."
I live on a street named after a saint
ReplyDeleteThe women in my church wear powder and paint
Where the jews and the catholics and muslims all pray
I can smell a proddy from a mile away
The only thing that I did wrong
Was stay in Mississippi a day too long
-- Gonna see the wandering Jew in concert Saturday night! Wish me luck!
Someone's got it in for me, they're planting stories in the press
ReplyDeleteWhoever it is I wish they'd cut it out but when they will I can only guess
They say I shot a man named Gray and took his wife to Italy
She inherited a million bucks and when she died it came to me
I can't help it if I'm lucky
One more cup of coffee before i go - to the valley below .
ReplyDeletestuck inside of Mobile.....
ReplyDeleteI'll take it just for the cover, never really been a fan of Zimmy
ReplyDelete