Never really cared much for the music of Bob Dylan - too engrossed in jazz, I suppose? But got talking to this teenager (I'll call him Vincent), he looked a typical loser, hooded, pallid and badly presented. Although fighting a drug problem, chain smoking and appearing outwardly sad, in a ten minute flurry of articulate wordage he explained to me that even though the lyrics of Dylan songs read brilliantly on paper, when sung by the master himself they convey hidden depths of understanding and truth. Every word, every nuance, Vincent explained, should be savoured and mulled. The problems of the world were all contained therein, just listen, learn and understand.
Vincent had every Dylan ever released and a few acetates that weren't. This pallid boy could write a million words on Dylan despite resembling a typical inner city drop-out. Never judge a book, etc.. . . . I'm going to catch up on some Dylan, you convinced me Vince, never too late to teach an old dog.
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