Every weekend there’s a party where the new music is played. Dance. Smoke a little marijuana. Dance. “Love, love me, do.” Beautiful, beautiful college women. John Lennon howling. Mick Jagger singing, “Time, time, time is on my side… Yes it is.”
The Beatles release their second movie. Help! I see it multiple times. It’s not Hard Day’s Night but The Beatles are as captivating as ever, and it’s in color. The music is great, getting even better. John Lennon lying on the couch in The Beatles’ common house sings, “Here I stand, head in hand / turn my face to the wall…”
It seems as though every album – from every artist – is a major creative leap further. In 1965 Bob Dylan releases Bringing It All Back Home. He’s on the cover with an unnamed woman in a red dress; he’s holding a cat and looking like the head of SPECTRE in a James Bond movie. When I get the record home, I rip the shrink wrap off and put the needle in the groove. Right away it’s obvious something very bizarre is up: drums, electric guitar, and dylan sings the words speeding out of his mouth, cascading: “Johnny’s-in-the-basement-mixing-up-the-medicine / I’m on-the-pavement-thinking-about-the-govemment/Man-in-a-trenchcoat-badge-out-laid-off / Say’s-he’s-got-a-bad-cough-wants-to-get-paid-off / Look-out-kids-it’s-something-you-did / God-knows-when-but-you’re doing-it-again / you’d-better-duck-down-the-alleyway-looking-for-a-new-friend / Man-in-a-coonskin-cap-and-a-pig-pen-wants-eleven-dollar-bills/you-only-got-ten.” FROM AN AMERICAN STORY
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