Modern Tunes for Modern Times

There was an interesting bit of quasi-scholarship published in the New York Times last week. Apparently, Bob Dylan’s new release, “Modern Times,” contains a few lines that—gasp!--may not have been entirely original.

According to the article written by Motoko Rich, Dylan may have lifted a few images from a Civil-War era poet named Henry Timrod, who was by some considered to be the Poet Laureate of the Confederacy.

I think in general I have more trouble with the fact that Dylan would turn to the Confederacy for inspiration than borrowing lines from anyone else. After all, in the world of traditional song, it’s all about borrowing, remaking something your own. In all the centuries that ballads were handed down, lines and stanzas and characters have constantly made appearances outside of their primary song, and no one complained or raised a fuss or felt that credit was not given where credit was due. The song is the purview of all.

It’s true that Dylan does not merely record or re-record old songs, although he has remade many of them, as is their purpose, in his own way. Mostly we know him by his own songwriting, making him the troubadour of our times, the singer-poet folk hero giving voice to the voiceless of our generation and the one gone before. Like Woodie Guthrie and Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan is a tradition bearer of a different kind: he puts on record the injustices of the present day, and pays homage to those American experiences that you won’t run across much in Newsweek or on MSNBC. His own songs have themselves been remade countless times in countless ways by countless singers and singer songwriters. (Fans who would like to know what some of the words are should check out Tim O'Brien's Red on Blonde. The version of Farewell Angelina with sister Molly is primo, and you might actually be able to learn Subterranean Homesick Blues.)

So I find it interesting that anyone would make a fuss, really. A song is a story. A good song is a story that has become a legend. John Henry, Casey, Little Omie, Darlin’ Corey, Cotton-Eyed Joe. Like the poems of Timrod, most of these lines are in the public domain now after so many years. Even if they were held in some kind of legal stasis, should that keep them from being shared?

And what folk or trad or bluegrass junkie isn’t addicted to the mystery and horror of the War Between the States? It was like this blown-out chess game in which tens of thousands of live pawns were slain, and yet there was this freakishly gentlemanly invisible fence within which this conflict was conducted. In his autobiography, Dylan himself claimed to have crammed his skull full of Civil War data and then “left it alone.”

I understand Dylan didn’t give credit to some lines that were too close to have been accidental. So maybe he did borrow them without asking permission, or maybe he could have really made more of a point by elucidating for us this little known poet of the war-torn South. But Timrod was not a great poet, not the Homer of his beloved Confederacy, merely another gentleman reb who wrote poetry, most of which had nothing to do with the War. There would have been in the present day an understanding of sorts between the two men, almost a collaboration in the sharing and combining of raw materials.

I don’t have a handle on this recording, but in wandering through the lyrics, this one jumped out at me. There’s a sort of passionate determination in the face of wild times, a very touching view of the bright and shadow side of living in full light as it were. If you have a favorite song from the new recording, let us all know. Were you always a Dylan fan, and what draws you to him?

Thunder On The Mountain by Bob Dylan

Thunder on the mountain, and there's fires on the moon
A ruckus in the alley and the sun will be here soon
Today's the day, gonna grab my trombone and blow
Well, there's hot stuff here and it's everywhere I go

I was thinkin' 'bout Alicia Keys, couldn't keep from crying
When she was born in Hell's Kitchen, I was living down the line
I'm wondering where in the world Alicia Keys could be
I been looking for her even clear through Tennessee

Feel like my soul is beginning to expand
Look into my heart and you will sort of understand
You brought me here, now you're trying to run me away
The writing on the wall, come read it, come see what it say

Thunder on the mountain, rollin' like a drum
Gonna sleep over there, that's where the music coming from
I don't need any guide, I already know the way
Remember this, I'm your servant both night and day

The pistols are poppin' and the power is down
I'd like to try somethin' but I'm so far from town
The sun keeps shinin' and the North Wind keeps picking up speed
Gonna forget about myself for a while, gonna go out and see what others need

I've been sittin' down studyin' the art of love
I think it will fit me like a glove
I want some real good woman to do just what I say
Everybody got to wonder what's the matter with this cruel world today

Thunder on the mountain rolling to the ground
Gonna get up in the morning walk the hard road down
Some sweet day I'll stand beside my king
I wouldn't betray your love or any other thing

Gonna raise me an army, some tough sons of b*tches
I'll recruit my army from the orphanages
I been to St. Herman's church, said my religious vows
I've sucked the milk out of a thousand cows
I got the porkchops, she got the pie
She ain't no angel and neither am I
Shame on your greed, shame on your wicked schemes
I'll say this, I don't give a damn about your dreams

Thunder on the mountain heavy as can be
Mean old twister bearing down on me
All the ladies in Washington scrambling to get out of town
Looks like something bad gonna happen, better roll your airplane down

Everybody going and I want to go too
Don't wanna take a chance with somebody new
I did all I could, I did it right there and then
I've already confessed - no need to confess again

Gonna make a lot of money, gonna go up north
I'll plant and I'll harvest what the earth brings forth
The hammer's on the table, the pitchfork's on the shelf
For the love of God, you ought to take pity on yourself