Did you notice that Bob Dylan didn’t appear on any of the telethons?

I used to think the goal was to be the Beatles.  An act that was inviolate,
that wouldn’t license its material to anybody, wouldn’t let it be in
compilations or movies, who specialized in saying no because
they CONTROLLED the tunes.  Yup, you had to have CONTROL!

But now I know it’s not about the masters, but control of yourself.  Can you
look yourself in the mirror, when you go to bed at night do you have your
integrity, HUMILITY?  If you think you’re better than everybody else, you’re lost.
 If you know that EVERYBODY’S lost and we’re all searching for answers, then
you get my respect.

Don’t confuse artistry with celebrity.  They’re two different animals.  Oh,
they can coincide.  But not for long.  Eventually your time draws to a close. 
The radio plays somebody else.  Kids don’t know who you are.  You’re PASSE!

How someone copes with this gives one insight into their character.

U2 is over forty.  They don’t make urban music.  Hit radio wasn’t interested.
This frustrated them.  Rather than accept their has-been fate, they’ve
fought to stay on top, and it shows.  The most memorable product they’ve released
in the past year is their iPod.  It’s cooler than their music.  More meaningful
than their shows.  They appear on "Entourage", anything to sustain the cash
cow.  To tour arenas.  To make the money.  But is it really about the money? 
Is it really about the fame?  Is that the end goal of life?

U2 got my admiration because of "Achtung Baby".  It was an adventure.  One
step beyond the audience.  Incomprehensible on the first listen.  We call this
art.  That new song that rips off "You Keep Me Hanging On", that’s not art,
that’s commerce.

I get enough commerce in the grocery store.  On network TV.  What I’m looking
for in music is pure, unadulterated art.

Oh, that doesn’t mean we can’t have ANY commerce.  That we can’t have hit
ditties.  It’s just that I don’t respect them.  I might even ENJOY them.  But
they’re not meaningful.  Life is complicated. Scary, lonely.  Sure, it’s fun to
have some grease to get you through, but we’re really looking for food. 
Emotional and intellectual food.  Honesty.  No medium is as honest
as music.  When done right.

It’s rarely done right anymore.

Oh, there are a zillion bands on MySpace that are honest.

They’re just not any good.

And just about everybody with any talent has bought the mainstream mantra
that you’ve got to market to sell.  To be a big star.  But is that what it’s all
about?  Or, once you’ve seeped into the public consciousness can’t you pull
back on the throttle?  Like Pearl Jam?

If only Pearl Jam were great.

But they’re serviceable, not great.

I’d like to tell you Bob Dylan has done great work in the past two decades. 
He hasn’t.  Why he gets a pass for ripping off that Japanese man’s book for
lyrics is beyond me.  That’s how blind our critics are.  What they revere
eclipses its faults.  But despite the failure of the man to make great music,
he’s living the life of a musician, he’s playing.

That’s what a musician’s work is.  Playing music.

It’s not stardom.  It’s not governmental interaction.  It exists OUTSIDE the
system.  It’s a COMMENT on the system.  MERGE with the system and you’ve lost
it.

If Bob Dylan had appeared on a telethon he would have appeared
two-dimensional, subservient to Joel Gallen, the brass at MTV Networks,
subsidiary to the consumer culture, a ravenous monster that needs a constant
flow of product to feed it.  Watch the news.  Mark Felt today, some girl in Aruba tomorrow.  It’s all about selling this, or that.  Whether it be soap, or Red Cross donations.

That’s not the purpose of art.  Art is an end unto itself.  The Mona Lisa
doesn’t sell mortgage services.  It exists in a separate world.  That we want to
get close to, to touch.  And despite our proximity we never fully understand
it, we’re perplexed, we’re wowed.  The same way we are when we hear a great
song.

And a great song survives.  Not only on oldies radio, but in the hearts of
the public.

The line that’s been going through my head for the past two weeks isn’t from
Randy Newman’s "Louisiana 1927" but Bob Dylan’s "It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only
Bleeding)".  You know it: "But even the president of the United States sometimes
must have to stand naked."

Oh, out of context, it doesn’t do much for you.  But that’s what separates
music from poetry.  It comes deep into an almost eight minute song that’s a
flurry of words Bruce Springsteen has never equaled, no matter how hard he’s
tried.  Delivered to the accompaniment of an acoustic guitar.  Spat out with
disdain.  As if that guy playing for quarters by the subway station was GOOD!

That’s how fucked up this country is.  That’s how fucked up these telethons
were.  They didn’t have one moment as good as Bob Dylan’s delivery of this one
line.

Recorded forty years ago, "It’s Alright, Ma" sounds as fresh today as the
first time you heard it.  It’s not trendy.  It’s not folk music.  It’s honest. 
"Like A Rolling Stone" is a period piece.  "It’s Alright, Ma" is not.  And the
concepts put forth are as right on as they were when they were first
delineated.

Bob Dylan could have come out.  Like Pink Floyd at Live 8.

But, unlike Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan’s still here.  You can see him, not far
from home, on a regular basis.  There are no backdrops, there’s no light show,
only music.  Because, if the music isn’t enough, you’re fucked.

And it’s not the same music it used to be.  The songs are all twisted.  It’s
frustrating.  But, you realize it’s not about you, Bob’s not delivering for
you, you’re privileged to be seeing a master at work.  Searching for meaning. 
However elusive it might be.  Like you, he’s not stuck at age twenty or forty. 
He’s grown old.  He’s accepted it.  He’s trying to make his life work NOW! 
It’s not about the legacy, perpetuating the career, not even about making a
living as much as it is a search for MEANING!

That’s what’s lacking in America today.  Meaning.  It’s about what’s on the
outside, not the inside.  In a country fixated on looks and possessions who you
are is irrelevant.  And to think that this core principle has been ripped
from artistry is to be sad.

I’m not counting on Bob Dylan regaining the muse.  Being able to duplicate
"It’s Alright, Ma".  But, if you saw him on "60 Minutes", you know that even HE
admits he can’t do that anymore.  Not that one can trust everything he said in
that performance art of an interview.  But, certain honesty escaped from the
illusion.  Bob Dylan let on that he’s on a journey.  To be the best.  Not the
richest, or the most famous, but the icon.

Funny to think about.  You’d tend to believe he already IS an icon.  But in
life you can’t bank on the past.  It’s about who you are now.  Bob Dylan’s
trying to make it all work NOW!  Aren’t YOU?

Paul McCartney isn’t.  Nor the Stones.  Paul and Mick have had their looks
tweaked.  They need to be who they used to.  Who you remember.  Otherwise,
they’re just sad old men.

But what’s so sad about living a whole life?  Making it to sixty?

Then again, do you want your mother to treat you like you’re twelve?  Don’t
you want her to accept you as an adult?  What must be going through these old
stars’ brains, that they believe that their only choice is to be stuck in
perpetual adolescence.

So, even though I don’t want to listen to Dylan’s new music, or even see him,
I still believe.  In his journey.  It’s a beacon.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer’s pride, security
It blows their minds most bitterly
For them that think death’s honesty
Won’t fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

You only get one go-round.  I’m warning you, Bob Dylan’s warning you, make
the most of it.  Know that you don’t have all the answers.  That if you’re not
questioning yourself and your behavior and the world EVERY DAY you’re missing
out.  Belief is the easy way out.  Religion will give you a code, that might
even be helpful, but you’ve got to face life naked.  With all your faculties. 
Being aware of your synapses firing.

So all those stars with their jewelry and possessions.  Telling you what good
they’re doing.  They’re false prophets.  If you’re following them, you’re
missing out.

And if you’re following Bob Dylan you’re missing out too.  He’s not a leader,
just someone with input.  Which you can weigh when you make your decisions. 
A far cry from the know-it-all stars of today.  Arrogant as a youth, as an
elder statesman Dylan demands less of us.  Humbled by life, his goal is to keep
marching, to keep learning.  That’s a paradigm worth embracing.

Musicians on TV tell you you must have compassion, as if you wouldn’t have
feelings without their guidance.

Karl Rove sits in Washington spinning your perception.

Democrats stay silent fearful they’ll misstep and lose the advantage if they
speak up.  As if life is about laying back reacting rather than leading.

No, life is about wrestling with the situation that’s presented you, going on
record, not fearful of making mistakes, not worried about others’ perceptions.

This is how Bob Dylan lives.

And that’s why we still believe in him. 

And don’t believe in those stars on TV.