Friday, 4 June 2010
Blood on the Tracks
I've only just gotten round to uploading all of my Bob Dylan collection to my iPod, pretty much everything from his first album through to Desire, minus Self Portrait and plus all the Bootleg Tapes.
I was walking around London town today, in the sweet sunshine, head full of love, on my way to an audition and with the old iPod on shuffle, "You're Gonna' Make Me Lonesome When You Go" came on.
It took me right back.
Like anyone whose been in important relationships and has good music taste, "Blood on the Tracks" is the finest break-up album of all time and I remember, back in the Summer 2001, having broken up from my girlfriend of 8 years, it was always on my then DiscMan, spinning in my ears constantly.
I'd pace the streets of Wollaton late at night for hours at a time, rain or shine, weaving a path between cul-de-sacs, avenues and bungalows; the entire album on repeat, trying to absorb the wise words of Dylan, finding breakthroughs, finding solace, finding bits of me and bits of him. Or so I thought.
Head down. Hands deep in pockets. Occasionally, I'd look up, waiting for something to strike me from above but it never did. I'd watch plane trails and think about a piece of engine seeking me out. There was a lot of guilt and a lot of crying whilst pounding the streets of the suburbs and sometimes I'd look up and the sky would open and it would cloak what I was feeling. I wasn't really too sure what I was feeling.
That all passed of course and I ended up stealing so many of the albums lyrics for my next girlfriend, because I couldn't muster them myself. She was too young to know but her parents knew. I never liked that. I used to like my lies concrete, deep and all consuming.
All those thoughts rushed into me on Margaret Street and were soon gone again.
After the audition I listened to the album in its entirety, twice. It is now something else to me, it is just one of the finest records ever made.
Simple as that.
And I'm glad.