I love driving in the winter.

In the summer you’re battling the heat.  You’ve got to drive long enough to have the a/c kick in.  You’re always trying to get cool.  But in the winter, it’s cold outside, but inside, with the sun entering the windshield you’re warmed like a piece of bread in a toaster, it’s cozy, it’s life-affirming.

I started out with Howard Stern.  But he was talking to some personal trainer and I didn’t give a shit.  So I pushed the buttons until I caught Steve Miller’s "I Love You" from "Number 5" and ultimately this, "Too Much Of Nothing", on Deep Tracks.

I used to have a Norelco cassette recorder.  It was a black box with silver trim, a small rectangle, with inputs so I could plug it into my stereo and hit record when my favorite tracks came on the radio.  Sure, I might miss a few seconds of the song, I might get deejay patter, but I had a copy of the number, which I could listen to my heart’s content.

And one of the songs I recorded was "Too Much Of Nothing".  From WDRC, in Hartford, CT.

"Too Much Of Nothing" was on the "Basement Tapes".  But at this point, those Dylan/Band recordings were just a rumor.  It was years before they saw the light of day.  But Bob’s manager, Albert Grossman, also managed Peter, Paul & Mary, who’d given Dylan his first hit, with "Blowin’ In The Wind", and he shuttled "Too Much Of Nothing" to the trio.

Dylan’s original is slow.  The dirge-like quality of the music adds weight to the lyrics.  Whereas the Peter, Paul & Mary take revs up the tune, like a sprite it darts off into the atmosphere, you do your best to catch up.  Only 2:29, you follow it until it disappears.  Then you want to hear it again.

Too much of nothing
Can make a man feel ill at ease

We’ve got a stoner culture.  Everybody’s about the relaxation.  But when you slow down, when you veg out for an extended period of time, you’re not as happy as you anticipated, that movie on TV you were dying to see is suddenly unsatisfying.

Say hello to Valerie
Say hello to Marian

The song’s jaunting along, and then it changes completely.  There’s a quality of reflection.  Dark and light in the same number.  The trio is prancing down the street in the verse, smiles on their faces, heads in the air, and then they seem to stop at a sidewalk cafe and debate the meaning of life.

Send them all my salary
On the waters of oblivion

Ain’t that life.  You’re high as a kite, then you’re contemplating suicide.

Dylan’s most famous for his political numbers.  But he’s a king of personal insight.  One can argue he’s tackling both subjects in this transitional number.

But when there’s too much of nothing
It just makes a fella mean

Ain’t that what’s happening today.  There’s not enough to go around.  Scratch that, those who’ve got it don’t want to part with it.  And they try to preempt the anger of the proletariat by being angry themselves.  It’s tough being rich, look at the expenses!  Be nice to me or I won’t spend and create jobs for you.  Huh?

Those with nothing today get sustenance from reality shows.  They see reflected back to them the same loserdom they inhabit. Their dream is to be featured too.  And this is exactly the way those in power like it.  As long as you’re fighting over minor treats, you won’t recognize that the game is truly rigged, and the powerful have all the riches.

That’s the difference between the sixties and today.  In the sixties, music was an agent of change, the one true religion that permeated the youth culture, invigorated kids and inspired them to take action.

Now those baby boomers have either achieved the American Dream of wealth or have given up.  And they don’t want you mucking up the paradigm.  You’re either a loser or a winner.  But the odds of winning are so low.

All of this wrapped up in a ditty.  Not about humps or lady lumps, but the existential human condition.

I couldn’t turn "Too Much Of Nothing" off.  Even though I was at my destination.  It made me joyous, it made me hopeful.  If a song can make me feel this good, there’s hope for me, and humanity.