Bob Dylan A Wraith in the World

Shape shifter, Shaman, Troubadour, Bard of the Ages, Prophet, Balladeer, Minstrel, Sorcerer, Voice of the Times, Philosopher, Ideologue, Romantic: the names roll of him as the mist off the mountains on a rainy day.

His music refuses to be categorized, neatly slotted, and dissected. It defies conventions of form, content, and structure.

He has traversed the soul of American music; vaudeville, rock and roll, folk, acoustic, country, blues, gospel; he has wearied of them, but arranged them to refract his own protean visions. His is the search of the weary for succor; a succor that they know does not exist.

He has infuriated his fans and detractors alike, with his abrupt refutations and whimsical poesies. His fans would want him to be a Hero, but he has confounded them at every step and has resisted all attempts at labeling.
He has sold them out to advertising jingles, has allegedly manipulated people to advance his career, and in the end has been slotted as someone who “cannot sing”.

For people who would like to understand the purpose of their existence through his songs, some hint of what their lives could be about; he provides only the faintest of clues. His persona has over shadowed him completely where it is very difficult to say what he is as a human being.

He is good with words, but it is very difficult to understand what he wants to say. He seems to create songs with consummate ease, and somehow understand what lies inside our psyche; his voice is the mirror with which we long to reflect the world and grasp it. But still, if he would only once say what he meant, ah! If only he would give us the Truth.

We would gladly crucify him to redeem our selves, we would give an arm or a leg to write the songs that he sings, and we would still hate him and stone him to death for what he has not said.

He is a Wraith in the World.
“Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh ;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.”
Bob Dylan has turned 60