You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

He loves you so much,
He'll be lonely when you go.
Maybe change your plans.

"You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go" is the last song on the first side of the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks." You could see it as a breakup song or maybe even a song about death. Appearing amidst the carnage of broken love that's splattered all over this album, it carries at its heart a strange hope, as if love's only doom in a perfect situation is death, and even then love will outlast the end of one of its parties.

- Love this time: close, easy, slow.
- Until now he was "shooting in the dark too long" and all was wrong. 
- Before: careless love. Now: correct, on target, direct.
- Beautiful colors of the clover, Queen Anne's Lace and your red hair. You could make him cry. Before: can't remember what he was thinking about. Your love spoils him.
- Flowers and crickets and the lazy blue river. "I could stay with you forever and never realize the time."
- Before: bad relationships, sad relationships, relationships like that of Verlaine and Rimbaud. Now: this is much better.
- Why would he ever be without you? He should sit right down and write himself a letter.
- Where you might be: Honolulaaah, San Francisco, Ashtabula. Now you're gone, but I'll see you in the sky, the grass and my loved ones.
And the end of each verse carries the title...

You're a Big Girl Now

He's sighing, crying,
And learning to love too late --
You're already gone

"You're a Big Girl Now" has got to be the saddest breakup song that I've ever heard. The third song on "Blood on the Tracks" from 1975, it is often nearly too much to take, at least for me. It's a great song, but I can understand where Dylan was coming from when he said in his cranky way to an interviewer that he doesn't understand how people can consider the projection of such pain "entertainment."

Some excerpts:
Bird on the horizon, sittin’ on a fence
He’s singin’ his song for me at his own expense
And I’m just like that bird, oh, oh
Singin’ just for you
I hope that you can hear
Hear me singin’ through these tears

Time is a jet plane, it moves too fast
Oh, but what a shame if all we’ve shared can’t last
I can change, I swear, oh, oh
See what you can do
I can make it through
You can make it too

A change in the weather is known to be extreme
But what’s the sense of changing horses in midstream?
I’m going out of my mind, oh, oh
With a pain that stops and starts
Like a corkscrew to my heart
Ever since we’ve been apart

Tangled Up in Blue

A couple breaks up.
He sorts of meets her later,
But he keeps drifting.

"Tangled Up in Blue" is one of Bob Dylan's signature tunes. The opening track of the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks" is instantly recognizable and arguably as fundamental a part of Dylan's work as "Blowin' in the Wind" or "The Times They Are a-Changin'" or "Like a Rolling Stone." Unlike these songs, "Tangled Up in Blue" is an only slightly detached account of a relationship and two lives and how their connection fell apart without ever really being severed. You could argue that the song is far too personal and, in its way self pitying, to resonate with such a wide audience, but I think that people who love the song identify with the sad drifters/lost lovers of the song. I don't; I like the song for its strong if sometimes vague storytelling, and for the music that keeps pushing the song forward. It's also noteworthy for its changing narrative perspectives and its apparent disregard of linear time.

How tangled?
1. He's lying in bed wondering what she's like nowadays. He should have known it wouldn't work out. Her parents said as much. They thought his parents were too poor for her (mama's homemade dress, daddy's bank account). Now he's standing on the road in the rain, hoping to hitchhike to the east coast. 
2. She was married when they met, but she got divorced -- with his help. They had a long run, but broke up in the darkness of the night. She says they'll meet again. So far, this sounds vaguely autobiographical. And then...
3. He gets a job in Minnesota's North Woods, working as a cook. He then got a job on a fishing boat in Louisiana. He keeps thinking about his ex.
4. He meets a woman working in a strip club. He clearly means us to assume that he's talking about the former lover, but when she says to him, "don't I know your name," we're not so sure that she is the ex. Or that she's not. She ties his shoelaces, he feels uncomfortable.
5. She makes him a pipe back at her place, then shares with him some poems from an Italian poet in the 15th century, (13TH CENTURY?) whom I would take to be Dante Aligheri. He realizes that there's something between him and her, considering at the words she's chosen for him to read ring true and "glowed like burning coal, pouring off of every page like it was written in my soul from me to you."
6. Another shift: "he" is living with "them" in a basement apartment on Montague Street. I'm guessing the "them" of this verse is the "we" of the first three or the fourth and fifth verses. There's music and revolution, but once "he" starts dealing with slaves, he's no longer the man he used to be. She suffers because of his work (which I always thought meant dealing "in" slaves, as in a slave trader, but I wonder if "dealing with slaves" indicates something more personal, like, say, dealing with the music business). They break up, and "he" keeps moving on. I think that if there's anyone here who Dylan is playing, it's both "he" and the "he" of "they." I know it sounds confusing.
7. Now we're back to the first guy. He's going to look for her and to try to win her back. Everyone that they used to know has changed into someone else, usually not for the better, but this one remains a traveler. And then he ends with that famous, cryptic line: "We always did feel the same, we just saw it from a different point of view."

Simple Twist of Fate

Love affair hinges
On unexpected plot twists,
And it has to end.

A short story about a love affair, "Simple Twist of Fate" is widely seen as a tragic tale of Bob n' Sara, given its appearance on the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks." Much of that album was, they say, at least inspired by the breakup of their marriage.

Events:
1. They met in the park, and it was clear that they were going to get together. He has a twinge of doubt and wishes that such a simple twist of fate had not brought them together. Premonition of tragedy.
2. They checked in to a motel on a hot night.
3. She gives him the slip while he's sleeping. She gives a coin to a blind man on the way out the door, which I'm assuming is a reflection of what she just did for the singer, who apparently also is blind. A charity case, if you will.
4. He tries to be cool and say that it didn't matter, but it's clear that he has fallen in love.
5. He looks for her daily by the waterfront.
6. He thinks that they were cosmically destined for one another. That's what a simple twist of fate will do.

Shelter From the Storm

A helpful woman
Offers shelter to a man
In need of plenty.

"Shelter From the Storm," released on the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks," is considered one of Dylan's enduring classics. It is the second-to-last song on this album full of wistful misery and heartbreak, and is loaded with symbolism that I'm sure many people have tried to unlock and understand. The basic story is that a woman offers shelter to a man. The storm is almost certainly not a storm, but some other non-meteorlogical phenomenon, like a troubled life, various woes and on and on.

1. He enters the world, void of form, coming from the wilderness. He gets shelter.
2. He'll always do her a solid if he comes back again.
3. Their relationship was left unresolved, but he would love to get shelter again.
4. He was burned out, buried in hail, poisoned and "blown out on the trail." Like most of us at the age of 33. He also was hunted and ravaged. She offers shelter.
5. She's a beautiful vision. Even better, she removes crowns of thorns from self-styled martyrs.
6. Something went wrong in their relationship.
7. There's a deputy and there's a preacher. Deputy's on nails and the preacher is on horseback. Don't ask me why. Doom is all that counts. There's also a one-eyed undertaker with a horn.
8. Crying infants, lovelorn old men.
9. He was beset by philistines in a village. They gambled for his clothes. He bargained for salvation and got poison instead. He offered his innocence and was scorned.
10. Now he's living over the border, though he'll come back. "Beauty walks the razor's edge someday I'll make it mine." He wishes he could turn back time to when she gave him shelter from the storm. This is almost certainly a reference to the novel by W. Somerset Maugham, who wrote "The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard." Nobody knows that more than Bob. This phrase is from the Katha-Upanishad, which in part tells the story of the hard road to liberation of the soul. Maugham used it after visiting India and meeting Ramana Maharishi at this ashram in Tamil Nadu, according to the ever-resourceful Wikipedia. 

Meet Me in the Morning

I crawl through barbed wire
To love you, and you know what?
It doesn't feel good.

I've never heard a song that sounds like "Meet Me in the Morning." It's not the form, which is blues, and it's not the lyrics, which are harrowing though conventional. There's something eerie about the easygoing country sound of the guitars combined with the tale of the singer who is only too willing to go through many trials to be with his love -- and when he gets what he wants, he gets the sinking feeling that it's not all that good for him. The song moves into some strange, spooky territory with the music. I don't know what kind of drums they're using on the song or how it was recorded. They thump along in some muffled away along with creative high-hat use (high hat? hi hat?) and are accompanied at one point at the end of the song by a raucous guitar solo and some other guitar sounds that take the song into a whole new territory of strange beauty. The bass work is basic, but effective, and there's some other kind of guitar in there, I don't know what kind, that responds with different riffs and fillips to the repeated lines in each verse after Dylan sings them. Truly magical stuff. The song opens side 2 of the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks."

Samples:

They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn
But you wouldn’t know it by me
Every day’s been darkness since you been gone

Well, I struggled through barbed wire, felt the hail fall from above
Well, you know I even outran the hound dogs
Honey, you know I’ve earned your love

Look at the sun sinkin’ like a ship
Ain’t that just like my heart, babe
When you kissed my lips?

Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts

Jack robs bank. Lily
Cuckolds Rosemary with Jim.
Rose kills him, then hangs.

This epic robbery, lust and revenge story from the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks" feels to me like it could have contained a few more verses to explain what on earth is going on. But continuity isn't the point, it's atmosphere that Bob is going for here. In short:

- The Jack of Hearts and his boys are robbing the bank safe located two doors down from the gambling hall/saloon in an old western town. They're not even bothering to hide the noise they're making. Presumably everybody has something else on their minds. Most people are getting ready for the show that's going to happen in the saloon that night.
- And how people do have other things going on... Lily's hanging out with the girls backstage, playing cards. She came from a broken home and had plenty of affairs with plenty of men, but nobody like the Jack of Hearts.
- Then there's Big Jim. He owns the diamond mine and is a richie-rich about town. He's having an affair with Lily. He's also concerned about this Jack of Hearts fellow, but he's not sure why.
- The stage manager knows that something strange is happening, but he can't rouse the hanging judge, becuase the hanging judge is drunk. He runs into the lead actor, dressed as a monk.
- Big Jim's wife Rosemary wants out of her marriage. She's depressed and has contemplated suicide and done other bad things. She's looking to do one good deed before dying. She's also a drunk.
- The hanging judge: another drunk, but he's not drunk after the burglary ends and Jack flees town. Ultimately, he solves everybody's problems. Jack busts out at gunpoint, Rosemary drops Jim with her knife, the judge sobers up in time to send Rosemary to the gallows, and Lily is left alone with her thoughts.

If You See Her, Say Hello

He pretends he's fine,
But it's not true. He's in love
Despite their breakup.

"If You See Her, Say Hello" is a beautiful song, but boy is it dreary. Maybe the less judgmental way to say it is: the music fits the mood. One of the songs on side two of "Blood on the Tracks" from 1975, it captures the essence of why they say breaking up is hard to do. Though Burt and Hal earlier suggested that you "Make It Easy on Yourself," Dylan chooses the opposite path to working through his pain. 

What she did and what she's doing:
- Might be in Tangier
- Left me early last Spring
- Might think I've forgotten her (wrong)
- Lives inside of me

What happened:
- A falling out
- She busted out and got free

What I'm up to:
- Dealing with the bitter taste
- Going here and there, seeing people, hearing people mention her name
- Not getting used to things
- Being too sensitive, getting soft
- Replaying the past

What you should do:
- Say hello
- Tell her things get slow, but I'm OK
- Tell her I'm thinking of her
- Kiss her for me
- Tell her that I want what's best for her
- Tell her that I'd love to see her if she's in town

I don't visit this song much. It's too sad.

Idiot Wind

We had some good times,
But I'd much rather focus
On hating you now.

"Idiot Wind" is the most downright bitter breakup song I've ever heard, but the breakup part is the only part that fits in the haiku. It's nearly eight minutes of anger, rage, betrayal, scorn, and eventually an acknowledgment that the singer is just as much of an "idiot" as the person at whom the song is directed. The intensity of the lyrics and Dylan's vocal delivery, coupled with the other unhappy songs on 1975's "Blood on the Tracks" album, don't make for much of a light listen, but it sure is thrilling. "Idiot Wind" in particular goes beyond the breakup into a world of disgust at the state of humanity and, in my reading, a despairing cry by Dylan at being misunderstood after 12 years of trying to sing his heart out.

1. Press paranoia: reporters are writing lies about him. One is that he shot a man and took his wife to Italy and inherited her money when she died. He's just lucky, not calculating.
2. People lose their shit when they're around me. Big ideas, images, distorted facts. Someone asks Bob "where's it at?" Seriously? He hasn't been able to answer that question ever. As he noted in "Ballad of a Thin Man," "You know something is happening here, but you don't know what it is."
3. Fortune teller: lightning might strike you. He can't remember peace and quiet. Then we get into the symbols: Lone soldier on the cross, smoke pouring out of a train door. Soldier loses every battle, wins war.
4. Bob dreams by the roadside: visions of her horse hurt his head. Then there's you, whoever you is: hurts the ones he loves best, lies. One day "you" will be in the ditch with flies around your eyes and blood on your saddle.
5. Gravity and destiny destroy them. She tames "the lion in his cage," but that didn't move his heart. Everything's upside down -- good/bad/bad/good. Top/bottom/bottom/top.
6. You're blinded by corruption and ritual. I can't face you. More symbols: priest in black on Sunday, no emotion as building burns. Bob waits for you near cypress trees, all summer long.
7. Strong lyrics among strong lyrics: "I can't feel you anymore, I can't even touch the books you've read. Every time I crawl past your door, I been wishin' I was somebody else instead." She's full of glory, he can't escape her memory.
8. Free after much double crossing. "I kissed goodbye the howling beast on the borderline which separated you from me." He complains about how she'll never understand his pain. He admits that he could have done better trying to understand hers.

Where the idiot wind blows:
- Down the backroads heading south
- Through the curtains in your room
- From the Grand Coulee Dam to Washington, D.C.
- Through the letters that we wrote.
- Through the dust on our shelves.

I know I play it light, but there's no other choice. "Idiot Wind" is too strong, too much. It's the irrational hurt of pain that's too close behind and too soon wrought. It also carries the feeling of a summer wind in the country, but not one that can bring any joy because of the terrible state of the singer. And though it is supposedly a personal song, I think that anyone who has been through tough human times can own these lyrics.

Here is, in order, the version that appeared on the album, the even more wounding, bitter, bleak version that he nearly released but held back, and a loud loud loud live version from the 1976 live album "Hard Rain."

Call Letter Blues

Woman leaves, man stays.

Kids and friends ask, where's she gone?

She's with her new man.

This is a separate set of lyrics for the song that eventually became "Meet Me in the Morning" on the 1975 album "Blood on the Tracks." "Call Letter Blues," recorded during the sessions for that album, is a much less ambiguous song. The singer's wife has left him, and he doesn't know what to tell friends who ask where she is, and the problem gets worse when the kids ask too. He tells them "Mother took a trip," and "I walk on pins and needles. I hope my tongue don't slip." Meanwhile, he keeps hoping he'll spot her in the crowd, but the last lines of the song make him realize that he could wait a lifetime for that moment, and it probably won't happen: "But the sun goes around the heavens, And another day just drives on through." The song appeared commercially in the first installment of the Bootleg Series.

Buckets of Rain

Everything she does

He adores, but she brings him

Buckets of sadness.

This sweet, short heartbreaker of a song closes the miserable and gloomy masterpiece of an album "Blood on the Tracks" from 1975. Taken with a big dose of real life, it's supposed to chronicle in a reasonably abstract form the breakdown of Bob Dylan's marriage to his wife Sara. Whether that's the inspiration behind the album is the listener's choice as far as I'm concerned. Dylan has disavowed that notion, but he's an unreliable narrator at the best of times considering that it's his private life and he's not crazy about discussing it. One of his sons has said that indeed this is a series of references to the private lives of his parents. I prefer to leach out the details and focus on the words, which are sad, angry, confused and bitter much of the time. In "Buckets of Rain," you get the idea that everything about the woman he's singing to makes him happy, and he even gets into how he likes the cool way she looks at him, likes her smile and her fingertips and lips, etc., but as he says baldly, "Everything about you is bringing me misery." Then there's the genius conclusion of the song:

Life is sad, life is a bust

All you can do is do what you must

You do what you must do and you do it well.

I do it for you, honey baby can't you tell?

Call Letter Blues

She left him, all right,
Even the kids know she's gone.
But this dude abides.

Buckets of Rain

Life just isn't fair.
Bob says take things as they come
And let them play out.

Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts

One confusing tale,
Too many plots to follow.
Bank heist, heartache, death.