Without Ideals or Violence

I didn't have any real camera-ready remembrance-moment for the 9/11 anniversary. I don't know about you. I suppose under the right circs I could have gotten maudlin (or irate, focused either internationally or internally). But knowing that there were those who were going to play it as a big political thing (both media and politicians - to the extent they are even different in these days of the republican-owned media monopolies) and try to stir up emotion, I resisted tendency to wallow.

Now that the prezident has had his chance to try to milk the moment (and imo been quite effectively neutered by Olbermann et al), I am ready to try for an alternate observance of 9/11. This is not without risk - I have no intention here of addressing the 9/11 events themselves directly, other than to acknowledge that it was one of the more horrific blows to my country and people and devastating to thousands and thousands of folks who had immediate relatives or friends who died. My thoughts, sympathy, and good will are definitely with all of those impacted by 9/11. Sadly though, bush et al have more or less co-opted that episode into a cartoon via bullhorns, EPA and Giuliani assurances that lung-cancer was the American way, and a totally toothless investigation and report that the president had to be bullied into allowing in the first place. The complicity of bush and his playmates must be obvious to all.

So, moving on, Bob Dylan happened to release an album on September 11, 2001, entitled Love and Theft. It nails so many things. You've listened to it at least a dozen times, no? If not, why not? I'd argue that this is the minimum listens needed for one of this non-pareil artist's premier works, and this is one of them. If you are not a Dylan fan, I guess you can sign off here. For this post I mean. I'm an unapologetic tolerant rabid eclectic music fan. While always disappointed to learn of and be berated as a result of the rabid dislikes of others (Neil Young! Tori Amos! Yes! country music! Glen Campbell! Chicago! Dean Martin! John Mellancamp! Tommy! Mary Chapin Carpenter! BST! etc., etc.), I'm not prone to grudges. But if you have any interest in contemporary music you are obviously going to be dealing with the incredibly long-careered Bob Z. And I do urge therapy for those of you with serious phobias (boy bands, herbal girls, and the like excepted).

I've used up my word quota here just getting through the intros (or whatever that was)!

I'm quoting from Keys to the Rain, a great Dylan encyclopedia I stumbled over at Powell's over Labor Day. Great store, great Dylan book resource, I'm just on a promotional junket here I guess.

Love and Theft may not end up being as legendary as the magical Blonde on Blonde, but it is no less provocative, steeped with enough allusion and style to keep both suburban teenagers and college professors up all night entranced by a gumbo [sic!] that mixes the Bible, the blues, Shakespeare, parlor ballads, Virgil, nursery rhymes, Charles Darwin, traditional folk songs, F. Scott Fitzgerald, piano scroll music, Ernest Hemingway, rockabilly, Mark Twain, country and western, cocktail-lounge corn, Groucho Marx, rock 'n' roll, Robert Johnson, rhythm & blues, Charley Patton, jazz, Sonny Boy Williamson, Appalachia, Big Joe Turner, supper-club music, and at least one Japanese pop novel.

There may be no "hits" on Love and Theft, but unlike the generally dark Time out of Mind, the overall effect left by the collection is uplifting, as it slides from one musical style to another in a stroll through classic American music in all its burlesque splendor, every song an evocative period piece.

Drilling in briefly on 'Lonesome Day Blues' from Love and Theft, courtesy Keys to the Rain:

Growling like a bear that hasn't eaten in years, Dylan is still straining even after all these years to decipher the wind's whispers on this tough-as-nails Blonde on Blonde style blues stomp, which includes a nice five-note bridge between choruses.

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Lyrically, it's packed with devastating zingers, from the sinister premise 'I'm gonna teach peace to the conquered/I'm gonna tame the proud,' to the damning broadside, 'Well, my captain he's decorated, he's well schooled and he's skilled/He's not sentimental, don't bother him at all how many of his pals that he kills.'

Please, in the interests of your mental health, get this disk, put it on repeat play if you have not already done so - presuming you are not subject to above-noted prissy musical taste disfunctions.