At a concert in New Haven on the 1975 Rolling Thunder Revue tour, someone in the crowd repeatedly shouted “Bob Dylan! Bob Dylan!”, just as the artist was setting up for a reworked version of “Tangled Up in Blue”. Dylan, in character as ever, replied: “No, I don’t think so. I think you’ve got me mistaken for someone else.”
This
story appears in Time Out of Mind by the late Ian Bell, Dylan’s greatest
biographer. Bell wrote perceptively about that tour, its participants, and what
it might have meant, if anything at all. It’s helpful to have a guide, as Dylan
wasn’t especially clear on things at the time, and is even less so now. At
least at first glance.
What, exactly, was that legendary tour all about? In an early scene in Martin Scorsese’s unmissable Netflix documentary, Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story, Dylan tells the viewer:
“It’s
about nothing. It’s just something that happened forty years ago. And that’s
the truth of it . . . I don’t remember a thing about Rolling Thunder. It
happened so long ago, I wasn’t even born, you know?”
Here, separated by decades, are two amusing and obviously insincere denials of Dylan’s participation in his own tour. Not since Dylan growled “Must Be Santa” on the Christmas in the Heart album have so many fans been left scratching their heads. What the hell is he up to now?
With perspicacity, Bell described the tour as;
“a kind
of erratic developing essay on identity, on disguises, on human contact. The
concerts would also be, by turns, pretentious, acute, self-indulgent and
enthralling. Rolling Thunder would become a piece of theatre, a radical
artistic gesture, a travelling circus, a movable movie set, a gypsy caravan and
the realisation, intermittently, of a superstar’s old dream of creative
emancipation. That was the general idea, at any rate.”
Scorsese
has brilliantly captured and expanded these ambitions. And it’s quite a clever
setup. We’re introduced to the central cast: Joan Baez, whom Dylan memorably
describes as looking “like she’s just come down from a meteorite”; Allan
Ginsberg, the beat poet of piffle, whose empty philosophising hints that maybe
the tour wasn’t really about anything serious at all; and the absolutely
mesmerising Scarlet Rivera, whose allure and haunting violin steal the viewer’s
attention in every scene.
The
unknown Rivera, as the story goes, was exiting her building when Dylan saw her
with a violin case. He invited her to an all-night rehearsal, and she
eventually joined the tour and became famous. Even though it sounds like
fiction, or at least imaginatively embellished, that story is actually true.
Much of the rest of the film, the real stuff, anyway, is interspersed with some
rather inventive bullshit.
Dylan
and Scorsese begin to introduce some other characters and talking heads, and
their participation should immediately cause the raising of eyebrows, as well
as a wry smile.
Stefan
van Dorp, a haughty European filmmaker who allegedly contributed to a
behind-the-scenes look at the tour, appears frequently to offer insights, claim
unrecognised credit, and disparage everyone else. His unused footage is what
we’re watching, and he even seems to have been there, in 1975, chatting with
Dylan, Patti Smith, and various concert-goers.
He’s an
actor, though. They all are, even the real ones. At one point, the older Dylan
misnames him as van Dorf. An underage and mischievous Sharon Stone was
there, too, apparently, as well as the former Congressman Jack Tanner.
A
number of guides have already arrived on the Internet, alerting viewers to
what’s true and what’s fake. The giveaway, after all, was always in the title:
A Bob Dylan Story. This was never going to be a documentary with a
concern for historical veracity.
And nor
should we expect it to be, really. A straightforward recounting of events as
they happened would somehow seem, well, out of character. Dylan doesn’t do
things twice. Bell called this willed amnesia – Dylan’s
commitment to a performance in the moment, and then its abandonment. Despite
its success, there was never a repeat of Rolling Thunder. Bell noted:
“Dylan
had no patience whatever for the idea that he might, now and then, retrace his
steps. The revue meant a lot to him while it was happening; when it was gone,
it was gone.”
The French writer Paul Valéry claimed that an artist never finishes a poem; he merely abandons it. Dylan’s willed amnesia is a kind of rejoinder to that. At the Rolling Thunder concerts, Dylan began to reimagine and rewrite his own songs with new lyrics, melodies, and meanings. Bell observed that Dylan had been toying with this beforehand, but in 1975, it became a permanent feature. In the documentary, we see and hear the country ballad “Tonight, I’ll Be Staying Here With You” transformed into a blistering hard rock number. “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” receives the same treatment, and a new energy. In “Tangled Up in Blue“, a change of voice, from first person to third, also seems to change everything.
Willed
amnesia allows Dylan to reflect, at the finish, on what remains of the tour
now:
“Nothing.
Not one single thing. Ashes.”
That’s true, in a sense. But it’s also true to say that Rolling Thunder Revue is a masterly addition to both Scorsese’s and Dylan’s steady work. It’s also a reminder, not that we really needed one, that no one, especially in what passes for music in today’s scene, does things like Bob Dylan. Despite his protestations, you certainly couldn’t mistake him for anyone else.
Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story is streaming now on Netflix.