Professor David Peimer
The Poetry of Bob Dylan, Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Professor David Peimer | The Poetry of Bob Dylan, Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti | 02.23.24

Visuals displayed and music played throughout the presentation.

- Okay, so thank you very much Jess, as always, and hi to everybody everywhere. Hope everybody’s well. Today going to look at two of the most interesting, and certainly for me, Bob Dylan, two of the most, well I think, one of the most remarkable and the other pretty superb poet, and obviously fitting in with what we’re looking at with America and culture at the moment. So the biggest question is, with somebody like Bob Dylan in particular, there is just so much, so many songs, so many ideas, so many books written about him, so many stories, a remarkable output, obviously not just the Nobel Prize for literature, but such a contribution to 20th century culture globally, obviously in America. So the difficulty naturally is choice. I’ve decided, obviously I have to make a choice for today, and chosen to share some of the songs, so we hear the poetry in song, which they’re written for, rather than just reading, and talk about some of the ideas about Dylan as we go along.

And then two, a couple of very interesting recordings, I think from Alan Ginsberg, the one of him reading his own poetry, and the other where he did a performance with Paul McCartney playing the music, the Royal Albert Hall in London. And I think it’s a fascinating combination of a poem, which is not as well known, but it’s a wonderful collection, the way he works with McCartney together. Okay, so for me, this has a personal touch because for me, Bob Dylan is right up there at the top, one on the top of the Tree of culture and poetry, language of the last century. And such a remarkable influence, such a remarkable ability with language, and a lot of the music. Enormous debates about him, which I’m going to go into only a little bit, but really try to understand the man behind the multiple personas that he obviously presented to many of us. You know, so many different identities, and why, so many different personas in performance, from the movies he made, you know, “The Last waltz” with Scorsese, to “Renaldo and Clara”, and many, many others.

You know, a couple of the interviews. It’s just so many things about him, constantly putting on different personas in a way, as he evolves as a recording artist over his lifetime. And with Alan Ginsberg, the huge influence naturally of the Jewishness, and in particular the era of the Beat generation and the hippie generation, the ‘50s and the '60s, in a way for me, really combining the two with a very difficult and rough family background. Okay, so given that it’s a matter of choice, which we share with today and have a feast on for me on some of this amazing poetry. First of all, the fact that they are both Jewish is also why I chose them, and I left out Ferlinghetti, for the obvious reason, number one, I just personally, I like his poetry, but I don’t think it’s as great as these two. And secondly, the Jewish aspect somehow makes them a little more interesting to delve into, with a bit more depth perhaps. But the first reason is equally important.

So as Jewish, and as poets, as Americans growing up in particular, Ginsberg the '50s, Dylan the '60s, coming all the way through now. Alan Ginsberg dying at a younger age, of course. But they became cultural icons, cultural symbols of a whole generation, a whole period in a way. And I think it’s important to delve into why, and what does this resonate for us today. The combination of the Jewishness and the American is for me, the search to belong. It’s the old debate, which I don’t think anyone can get away with being Jewish, and with many other individuals of ethnic or religious or racial minorities or whatever, the whole assimilationist debate. And of course that is so relevant in our times now, as times get darker and darker. Or as Dylan said in “All Along the Watchtower”, you know, “And there’s the wild howling that’s to come”. The search to belong, do we not belong to the country we live in? Do we belong to Jewish cultural, and perhaps religious identity, or both? Whether secular or not. Whether that, you know, the horns of the dilemma. What group does one belong to?

Born Jewish, born in a culture, this case obviously America. The human need to belong, the human desire to fit in, to assimilate, but one is always the other or the outsider. And I think in very different ways, these two capture it. Ginsberg is obviously much more of a Jewish background, Jewish family, and his writing is so much more infused, especially the poem “Kaddish” naturally, is so infused with his Jewishness, you know, and I think he has an acceptance of it and living it, but he still has to, he’s searching. He searches through Buddhism, he searches through, you know, many, many different things to try and find something to belong to as the eternal outsider and the artist. Dylan, I think is obviously, goes in and out of his Jewishness, his cultural background. But I think he remains the outsider searching to belong, a restless, ceaseless, energetic, ambitious, driven searching for where to belong, how to belong.

Finally it’s as an artist, it’s as the outsider. And I’m not trying to draw comparisons with, in terms of intelligence or anything like that, 'cause I don’t want to get into that at all. But, you know, Einstein was the ultimate outsider who had the awareness. As Einstein said, you know, “Beware of unrequited love from Germany.” I don’t think Dylan is quite that, but I think Dylan has an ironic, semi-detached outsider quality. So he’s able to see things from a more detached perspective on so many of the cultural, political, social changes going on, from obviously the Beats, to the '60s, civil rights, gay rights, which Ginsberg was very involved in, you know, the massive changes. And of course the biggest one of all for both of them probably, the Vietnam War. You know, so massive change is happening. What is their vision, what is their perspective? Dylan is the Jewish other, the outsider, restless searcher, you know, where to belong, infused with American and Western mythology.

And I think that one of the main things is that Dylan’s references are so mythological, biblical, but also so deeply American. And it’s also rooted in the music. All the, from Hank Williams to Robert John, to just so many of the great musicians all the way through, it’s the music. And of course the poetry of Rimbaud, the French poet, and many others, you know Shakespeare as well, many others. You find so many references in Dylan’s work, and of course the Bible. For Ginsberg, there are more Jewish references, and I think the connection with William Blake, you know, as the poet, one of the great poets, obviously of all time, not just England, is influenced from Blake and Walt Whitman. That search for authentic self-expression, and almost making autobiography the source of the poetry, you know, which of course is so infused with his own Jewishness and his family.

So Dylan’s grandparents, Zigman and Anna Zimmerman, come from the Ukraine and they go after the pogroms of 1905, they arrive in America. His maternal grandparents are Jewish from Lithuania, arrive in the US in 1902. His father, Abraham Zimmerman, owns an electric appliance shop. His mother, Beatrice, you know, obviously his mother, the influence as well. And they’re part of a very small, close-knit Jewish community. As Dylan often said, you know, that was their world there. 1960, he drops out of college, in '61 travels to New York, performs there, and of course visits his great musical idol, Woody Guthrie. Dylan wrote about Guthrie much later in his fantastic book “Chronicles” that he wrote about part of his life. “The songs themselves,” and I’m quoting, “The songs themselves had the infinite sweep of humanity in them. He was the true voice of the American spirit. I said to myself, 'I’m going to be Guthrie’s greatest disciple.’” At such a young age, the infinite sweep of humanity. So he’s got this global perspective through his art.

He was the true voice of the American spirit, he’s got the American mythological perspective, absolutely. And he is going to be Woody Guthrie’s greatest disciple. He’s driven with such ambition, and compelled, perhaps no choice really, because of remarkable intelligence and talents to be Guthrie’s greatest disciple. Found his earliest influences so young. At Columbia Records he was taken on by John Hammond, of course, and many at Columbia, at a very young age, barely 21. And many said to Hammond, “Look, you’re crazy to take this young kid. He’s just a kid arrived in New York, you know?” but Hammond defended Dylan. Johnny Cash made a strong defence of Dylan at this very young age, thus part of the friendship which they developed later. Let’s take one or two examples of how knowledgeable Dylan is about music, about literature, thought. Self-taught, a remarkable self-taught individual on so many levels. “Blowing in the Wind” is partly derived from a melody from a traditional slave song, which was called “No More Auction Block”, he knew that. “A Hard Rain’s Going to Fall” was based on the folk ballad “Lord Randall”, you know, obviously about possible impending apocalypse, resonance with the Cuban Missile Crisis.

So, you know, he’s aware of so many cultural, musical, poetic references, and of course, you know, the cultural, the politics of the Times. George Harrison said about him, when he first heard him, he thought it was like, “As if sandpaper could sing,” and how electrifying it was to hear sandpaper singing. And of course, George Harrison was a great friend of Dylan’s. Then ‘65 comes the Newport Folk Festival. He goes electric and of course the booing, everybody knows about it, the famous moment, the change. The influence of the Beatles on Dylan, and others, of course. A couple of other quotes, which is interesting. Bruce Springsteen said about Dylan, “When I first heard him, it was like somebody had kicked open the door to my mind,” “kicked open the door to my mind.” It’s a powerful comment from Springsteen. Even Dylan himself, 1966, he’s barely in his 20s when he creates “Blonde on Blonde”, which together with “Blood on the Tracks” and one or two others, are to me the top albums of a remarkable career. He says he wanted “that thin wild mercury sound”, isn’t that a beautiful way of putting it? And such an imaginative way of putting it.

1965, he marries the 25-year-old former model, Sara Lownds. Sara was the daughter of Jewish parents, Isaac and Betsy Noznisky, Jewish immigrants. Sara’s father was born in Poland, came in 1912, became a US citizen, had a scrap metal business. When she was young, her mother suffered a brain stroke, and her father was shot dead, and her mother died before she was 21. Shirley Noznisky was her real name, was alone completely at the age of 21. And we’re talking about, this is in the '60s. This is not going back to the 19th century or some other period. So it’s a whole tragic life that, you know, and difficult life that Dylan meets in Sara, Shirley Noznisky, and marries. '66, motorcycle accident. “Blood on the Tracks” comes, one of the great, great albums of all time. About loss, about marriage, divorce, end of marriage, you know, all the thoughts, the suffering, and the end of the dreams of youth. He tours steadily through to the late '80s, called “The Never Ending Tour”. And then since 94, he’s published eight books of drawing, eight books.

Besides so many albums of paintings, drawings, sold more than a hundred million records. One of the bestselling music artists of all Time, gets a Presidential Medal of Freedom. 10 Grammy Awards, Golden Globe, Academy Award. 2016 of course, the Nobel Prize. 1954, Dylan has a bar mitzvah, 1954 of course, he’s 13. 1971, he visits Israel, which I’m sure we know, that famous picture, the Wailing Wall. Dylan participates in Jewish religious events, which include the bar mitzvah of his sons. “Time” magazine votes him one of their most 100 important people of the century, musically, culturally, in every single way. A remarkable life for a guy born in a tiny little, small little town, you know, in Minnesota. Where he comes from and where he achieves, let’s just look at the span of that life. It’s extraordinary, and the achievements that go with it. In his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, he wrote, and I just want to quote one little bit towards the end of it, he talks about Homer, because of course he read Homer, the “Odyssey”, the “Iliad”, and so many others. “I return,” I’m quoting, “I return once again to Homer, who says, 'Sing in me, O muse, and through me tell the story.’”

That’s Homer, Dylan quotes it, the end of his speech. “Sing in me, O muse, and through me tell the story.” That is Dylan with his Nobel speech, “Sing in me, muse, through me tell the story,” whatever the story is. He comes down to the artistic, the position of the artist of the 20th, early 21st century. He comes, that is ultimately the persona, the identity, of all the changes of personas and identities he goes through in this restless, ceaseless searching for identity and belonging in life, which I think comes from being the outsider. Small town, very small town, middle of America, and of course his Jewishness. It’s in his music, it’s in his stories, it’s in his art. Okay, if we can go on to the next slide, please. This is a picture of him and Ginsberg. Really, I’d always found it a very warm, human picture. Go on to the next one, please. Okay, I want to play just very briefly, this is Leonard Cohen towards the end of his life. Just a very brief interview, just over a minute with Leonard Cohen, where he talks about Dylan, because they were so, ultimately they became incredibly close, and so respectful of the brilliance of each other. You can play it, please.

[Clip plays]

• I think that any songwriter, and I think that Bob Dylan knows this more than all of us. You don’t write the songs anyhow. So if you’re lucky, you can keep the vehicle healthy and responsive over the years, if you’re lucky. Your own intentions have very little to do with this. You can keep the body as well-oiled and receptive as possible, but whether you’re actually going to be able to go for the long haul is really not your own choice.

• [Interviewer] You already mentioned Bob Dylan. There’s a wonderful “New Yorker” article that just came out this week, by the way, that you should definitely read, by David Remnick. And in the article, David spoke to Dylan, who had some really wonderful things to say about you. And he actually spoke about something that most people don’t really talk about when they talk about your work, and that was the music itself. Did you see what he had to say about you?

• [Leonard] Yes I did, very generous, very kind.

• [Interviewer] Yeah, I wonder if you would want to comment on what he said, or?

• [Leonard] Well, I won’t comment on what he said, but I will comment on his receiving the Nobel Prize, which to me is like pinning a medal on Mount Everest for being the highest mountain.

• That’s-

• What happened, Leonard? I mean, did you not get the forms filled out in time? How come?

[Clip ends]

• So this is Leonard Cohen. You know, the, the friendship between them, the respect, when you read other interviews with both of them, you know, the admiration, the respect is so high, you know, for both of them, two remarkable poets of brilliance. Okay, I want to dive in, let’s get on. Enough of me, I want to dive into the first song that we’re going to play. 1965, voted by “Rolling Stone” magazine as the greatest song of all time in the history of rock and roll, “Like a Rolling Stone”. It’s six minutes, I’m only going to play a few minutes of steady hatred, it’s chorus, the melody. It’s based on Richie Valens’ “La Bamba”. And we feel, I feel, we, clinging onto the song by our fingernails. And this is the song that “Rolling Stone” magazine said altered the Face of music. Okay, if we can play it, please.

♪ Music Plays ♪

♪ Once upon a time you dressed so fine ♪ ♪ Threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you ♪ ♪ People call, say beware doll, you’re bound to fall ♪ ♪ You thought they were all kidding you ♪ ♪ You used to laugh about ♪ ♪ Everybody that was hanging out ♪ ♪ Now you don’t talk so loud ♪ ♪ Now you don’t seem so proud ♪ ♪ About having to be scrounging your next meal ♪ ♪ How does it feel, how does it feel ♪ ♪ To be without a home ♪ ♪ Like a complete unknown ♪ ♪ Like a rolling stone ♪ ♪ Ah, you’ve gone to the finest schools ♪ ♪ All right, Miss Lonely ♪ ♪ But you know you only used to get juiced in it ♪ ♪ Nobody’s ever taught you how to live out on the street ♪ ♪ And now you’re going to have to get used to it ♪ ♪ You say you never compromise ♪ ♪ With the mystery tramp, but now you realise ♪ ♪ He’s not selling any alibis ♪ ♪ As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes ♪ ♪ And say, do you want to make a deal ♪ ♪ How does it feel, how does it feel ♪ ♪ To be on your own ♪ ♪ With no direction home ♪ ♪ A complete unknown ♪

Okay, thanks Jess, if you could fade it out. ♪ Like a ♪ Okay, thank you. So I wanted to play this first because it’s such an iconic, and globally acknowledged as the greatest rock and roll song of all time, quite something. Books have been written about it. There’s a scholar Greil Marcus, and he makes the point, which I think is really good, in his book, and I’m quoting, “Along with the venom, along with the venom, is the journey into uncharted territory. As a listener, you permanently feel on the brink on collapse, and that’s precisely what makes it thrilling.” It’s on that brink of, relationship’s over, what’s going to happen, what isn’t. There’s anger, there’s hurt, there’s pain, there’s loss, there’s maybe even revenge, but there’s all, so many of the conflicting feelings, you know, and in the end trying to give insight with poetry, you know, “Selling so many alibis,” wasn’t, you know, and we go on. Okay, the next one for me is one of the greatest songs ever written by Dylan or anybody, “It’s Alright Ma I’m Only Bleeding”. Okay, if we can play it please.

♪ Music Plays ♪

♪ Darkness at the break of noon ♪ ♪ Shadows even the silver spoon ♪ ♪ The handmade blade, the child’s balloon ♪ ♪ Eclipses both the sun and moon ♪ ♪ To understand you know too soon ♪ ♪ There is no sense in trying ♪ ♪ Past pointed threats, they bluff with scorn ♪ ♪ The suicide remarks are torn ♪ ♪ From the fool’s gold mouthpiece, the hollow horn ♪ ♪ Plays wasted words, proves to warn ♪ ♪ That he not busy being born is busy dying ♪ ♪ Temptation’s page flies out the door ♪ ♪ You follow, find yourself at war ♪ ♪ Watch waterfalls of pity roar ♪ ♪ You feel to moan but unlike before ♪ ♪ You discover that you’d just be one more person crying ♪ ♪ So don’t fear if you hear ♪ ♪ A foreign sound to your ear ♪ ♪ It’s all right Ma, I’m only sighing ♪ ♪ As some warn victory, some downfall ♪ ♪ Private reasons great or small ♪

♪ Can be seen in the eyes of those that call ♪ ♪ To make all that should be killed to crawl ♪ ♪ While others say, don’t hate nothing at all ♪ ♪ Except hatred ♪ ♪ Disillusioned words like bullets bark ♪ ♪ As human gods aim for their mark ♪ ♪ Make everything from toy guns that spark ♪ ♪ To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark ♪ ♪ It’s easy to see without looking too far ♪ ♪ That not much is really sacred ♪ ♪ While preachers preach of evil fates ♪ ♪ Teachers teach that knowledge waits ♪ ♪ Can lead to hundred-dollar plates ♪ ♪ Goodness hides behind its gates ♪ ♪ But even the President of the United States ♪ ♪ Sometimes must have to stand naked ♪ ♪ And though the rules of the road have been lodged ♪ ♪ It’s only people’s games that you got to dodge ♪

• Thanks, if you can fade it, please. ♪ And it’s all right ♪

So this for me is one of the most remarkable poems ever written, of certainly of the last century. He wrote it, he was 23, 23, “Darkness at the break of noon, shadows even the silver spoon, eclipses both the sun and moon, to understand, you know too soon, that he not busy being born is busy dying. Waterfalls of pity raw, disillusioned words like bullet bark as human Gods aim for their mark, make everything from toy guns that spark, to flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark. It’s easy to see without looking too far, that not much is really sacred. And though the rules of the road have been lodged, it’s only people’s games that you’ve got to dodge. You lose yourself, you reappear, you suddenly find you’ve got nothing to fear. Alone you stand with nobody near, when a trembling distant voice startles your sleeping ears to hear that it is not he or she or them or it that you belong to.

For them that must obey authority, that they do not respect in any degree, who despise their jobs, their destinies, but speak jealously of them that are free. And if my thought dreams could be seen, they’d probably put my head in a guillotine. But it’s all right Ma, it’s only life and life only.” I had to read it again, because it’s just one of the most amazing poems for a 23-year-old or anybody to write. So much, it’s almost a kind of a manifesto for life, if you like. Yeah, there are lots of aphorisms and things like that. “But it is not he or she or them or it that you belong to.” You know, “The rules of the road have been lodged. People’s games, you’ve got to dodge,” he goes on and on. He speaks about this in a fantastic interview on “60 Minutes”. It’s a bit long, so I’m not going to show it. And he talks about how at a later age, there’s no way he could write this again.

You know it just came from, came wherever it came, you know, at such a young age. But the ability to constantly adapt, as he’s changing and getting older and older, and he sometimes loses the poetic ability, sometimes loses the insightful ability, you know, sometimes the lines are more cliched later, other things. You know, he’s aware but he doesn’t stop restless searching, and never, ever give up or stop. Okay, we’re going to go onto the next one, please. And this is one which I’m sure many people know. This is a picture of “The Freewheeling Bob Dylan”, this is young Dylan, naturally, with Suze Rotolo, his first great love, in New York. And okay, let, we’re going to play this song. “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”, 1963.

♪ Music Plays ♪

♪ Well, it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe ♪ ♪ If'n you don’t know by now ♪ ♪ And it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe ♪ ♪ It’ll never do, somehow ♪ ♪ When your rooster crows at the break of dawn ♪ ♪ Look out your window and I’ll be gone ♪ ♪ You’re the reason I’ll be travelling on ♪ ♪ But don’t think twice, it’s all right ♪ ♪ And it ain’t no use in turning on your light, babe ♪ ♪ That light I never knowed ♪ ♪ And it ain’t no use in turning on your light, babe ♪ ♪ I’m on the dark side of the road ♪ ♪ But I wish there was something you would do or say ♪ ♪ To try and make me change my mind and stay ♪ ♪ We never did too much talking anyway ♪ ♪ Don’t think twice, it’s all right ♪ ♪ So it ain’t no use in calling out my name, gal ♪ ♪ Like you never done before ♪ ♪ And it ain’t no use in calling out my name, gal ♪ ♪ I can’t hear you anymore ♪ ♪ I’m a-thinking and a-wondering, walking down the road ♪ ♪ I once loved a woman, a child I’m told ♪ ♪ I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul ♪ ♪ Don’t think twice, it’s all right ♪

If you could fade it please, Jess. “I gave her my heart, but she wanted my soul.” “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”, 1963. It’s an ironic song, and yet for me, what he does so brilliantly in this one, and it’s obviously a song to her, Suze Rotolo, he balances tenderness and acrimony, and that’s the brilliance of Dylan. It’s never just a one-sided anger, attack, rage, fear, loss, happiness, naivety. There’s always an ambiguity. There’s always a combination of human emotions. And this is tenderness, listen to that voice. Of course he’s young, but there’s a tenderness, there’s also an acrimony, and you never know which is going to come when.

James Dean said about his acting, whenever he acts, and he was similar age, early 20s, younger, tries to act on that razor’s edge between defiance and vulnerability, and you never know which is going to come when. And I think not only part of the ‘60s, but it’s a mark of a brilliant artist to be able to capture that ambiguity. And here it’s that tenderness walking the razor’s edge between tenderness and acrimony, about the end of the relationship. Joan Baez was heard to to say at one point about Suze Rotolo, there was bit of jealousy going on between them, of course, that the song was, and I’m quoting her, “About a love affair that had lasted too long” True or not, we have no idea. Whether it prompted her to leave him or not, we have no idea, really. You know, lots of theories which just are speculation. Okay, the next one I want to go on with is, I think one of the most remarkably haunting songs he ever wrote, “Visions of Johanna”, 1966. If we can play it, please.

♪ Music Plays ♪

♪ Ain’t it just like the night to play tricks ♪ ♪ When you’re trying to be so quiet ♪ ♪ We sit here stranded ♪ ♪ Though we all do our best to deny it ♪ ♪ And Louise holds a handful of rain ♪ ♪ Tempting you to defy it ♪ ♪ Lights flicker from the opposite loft ♪ ♪ In this room the heat pipes just cough ♪ ♪ The country music station plays soft ♪ ♪ But there’s nothing, really nothing to turn off ♪ ♪ Just Louise and her lover so entwined ♪ ♪ And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind ♪

Okay, if we can hold it here, please. ♪ Little ♪ Thanks. I mean, the song goes on, just want to give us a tiny taste. There’s such a haunting feeling in the melody of a vision, you know, how does one write a song, which is, or a poem which is not going to be kitsch and corny of a vision of somebody, whoever it is? And it’s a parade of symbols. They are mystifying, but they are potent. And the great symbol that has gone down from the song, which comes a little bit later in the poem, “The ghost of electricity howls through the bones of her face.” What an extraordinary line. “The ghost of electricity howls through the bones of her face.” It’s mystifying, it’s so potent, it’s so imbued with a thrilling quality, and yet it’s a haunting image completely.

Again, it’s a mixture of paradoxes, ambiguities, that Dylan can do in one line in a song. That’s why we cannot pin him down. He’s an artist who understands, and I’m going to say this, like Shakespeare, like Walt Whitman and so many others. Rimbaud, the great French surrealist poet, you know, who are able to combine many things that you cannot, there’s endless resonant meanings. So we can listen to it again and again or read them later. You know, Shakespeare’s sonnets, some of his, we go again and again and again. We constantly find new treasures of meaning inside, one of the ultimate aims of an artistic worker. And the other thing he adds in, which Paul Simon said, and one of the reasons why Paul Simon and he, Paul Simon said could never sing together, was because he said his voice had one, Paul Simon’s talking about his own voice, had more of one dimension. It was more, and not criticising, but just he showed, Paul Simon, incredible insight, intelligence, that his voice was more on one level, of a romantic or of a certain feeling.

Whereas Dylan, there’s always a sense of irony thrown in. So together with the ability to capture ambiguity and paradox, he can capture irony in a song in a couple of lines. It’s one thing to do in a novel, in a poem, in a long piece, in a play. But that ironic voice, which is slightly detached, it’s involved and engaged, and yet slightly detached. And that is extraordinary, and that’s what gives Dylan that uniqueness that Paul Simon identified, I think the most clearly. Okay, we’re going to go on to something a little bit different, Mr. Allen Ginsberg, and just very briefly about his life. Ginsberg grows up in the '40s. He goes to Columbia University, my Alma Mater. His friends there, meets William Burroughs, we all know, the great, you know, the Beat novelist, “Naked Lunch” and other books, Kerouac of course, and become part of the core of the Beat generation. Vietnam War, his Buddhism, all those things I mentioned about, but it’s his Jewishness that I think is the most powerful. His father was a teacher and his mother Naomi born, oh thanks for the help, Jess. Naomi, born in Russia.

As a teenager, Ginsberg writes letters to the “New York Times” about political issues, the Second World War, workers’ rights. He gets a scholarship to Columbia and it’s the Young Men’s Hebrew Association Scholarship. 1945, joined the Merchant Marine to earn money to help pay for his education at Columbia. In a 1985 interview, Ginsberg talking about his parents said, and I’m quoting, “They were old-fashioned delicatessen philosophers. My mother was a very strong member of the Communist Party.” “Old-fashioned delicatessen philosophers,” don’t we know so many? It’s like Dylan’s line, “Napoleon in rags.” He said his mother made up bedtime stories, for example, and I’m quoting, “The good king rode forth from his castle. He saw the suffering workers and healed them.” The interview goes on. “My father would recite Emily Dickinson, Longfellow, and he would attack TS Eliot for ruining modern poetry.”

So his father gives him, his mother gives him, but the deepest thing, not only the love and passion for poetry, but it’s such a deep Jewishness, given obviously the immigrant background. Assimilation, the search for belonging. All these qualities I found very deep in Ginsberg. His mother Naomi, and of course the poem “Kaddish” is primarily about his mother. She suffered from terrible schizophrenia, paranoid delusions, quite a few suicide attempts, and he’s young, Ginsberg is a teenager. She tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists, and much of his youth was spent in mental hospitals trying to be with her. And that I think is so powerfully important, together with the Jewishness of his background, that informs so much of Ginsberg’s work. The two main poems I’ve mentioned, “Howl” and “Kaddish”.

A letter his mother wrote to Ginsberg’s brother Eugene, where she wrote, “God’s informers come to my bed. I see God in the sky.” “God’s informers come to my bed.” So we can imagine not only the delusions, the schizophrenia, of other of these definitions, but the young teenager dealing with his mother who’s existing in another world, primarily. And of course it’s going to make the boy Ginsberg become a restless searcher. But I believe deep, deep down, it’s the Jewishness that is so strong in him, with all those conflicting qualities I mentioned around assimilation. Culturally, he bridges the Beats of the ‘50s and the hippie generation of the '60s. Becomes friends, great friends with Dylan. Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey, as we all know.

He introduces Hare Krishna and the mantra, you know, the living performance of a poem, which, you know today we call it spoken word poetry, whatever. Yeah, which goes way back in ancient times to many continents around the world, where poetry, 'cause of course very few people could read or write, is a spoken word performance in ancient times. It’s chanted in his music. He dies in 1997 in Manhattan, the age of 70, of liver cancer. And of course, you know for me, Blake, Walt Whitman and I think also the Spanish poet, Frederico Garcia Lorca, which brings a surrealism to the poetry, together with Blake, so powerful. Okay, I want to play this piece, which is him reading the beginning of “Howl”, which I’m sure we all know.

[Clip plays]

• [Allen] “Howl”, for Carl Solomon. “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the Negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters, and hollow-eyed and high sat up, smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats, floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz. Who bared their brains to heaven under the El, and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs, illuminated, who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes, hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war.

Who were expelled from the academies for crazy, and publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull, who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets, and listening to the terror through the wall, who got busted in their pubic beards, returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York, who who ate fire in paint hotels, or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls, incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind, leaping toward poles of Canada and Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of time between. Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree, cemetery dawns.”

[Clip ends]

There, we can hold it, Jess, please. So I want you to share this because it’s the best recording I’ve found of Ginsberg reading his own work. And it is part chant, it’s part darkly prophetic, almost in a way, it’s not only the '60s for me. “Some of the best minds of my generation destroyed.” I mean, it’s not only then, we can relate it to now, of course what is going on, you know, in American and other universities around the world, what is actually happening. There’s a sense of a dark prophecy almost. Obviously he’s relating it to his times, and very specifically the '60s, but I do think it transcends it. And especially if we find the very dark, fragile times that we are living in, you know, where so many young people’s minds are being destroyed in so many ways. From the left, from the right, from this, from that, from all sorts of things. Obviously, and you know, I’m talking more, not only, I’m talking very specifically of Jewish minds, and others as well. Okay, if we can go on to the next clip, please. This is a remarkable piece. “Ballad of American Skeletons”, Royal Albert Hall in London, 1993. Ginsberg, and Paul McCartney plays the electric guitar. Let’s listen. “A Ballad of American Skeletons”, or “American Ballad of Skeletons”.

♪ Music Plays ♪

♪ Said the presidential skeleton ♪ ♪ I won’t sign the bill ♪ ♪ Said the Speaker skeleton, yes you will ♪ ♪ Said the representative skeleton, I object ♪ ♪ Said the Supreme Court skeleton, what do you expect ♪ ♪ Said the military skeleton, buy Star bombs ♪ ♪ Said the upper class Skeleton, starve unmarried moms ♪ ♪ Said the yahoo skeleton, stop dirty art ♪ ♪ Said the right wing skeleton, forget about your heart ♪ ♪ Said the Gnostic skeleton, the human form’s divine ♪ ♪ Said the Moral Majority skeleton, no it’s not it’s mine ♪ ♪ Said the Buddha skeleton, compassion is wealth ♪ ♪ Said the corporate skeleton, it’s bad for your health ♪ ♪ Said the old Christ skeleton, care for the poor ♪ ♪ Said the Son of God skeleton, AIDS needs cure ♪ ♪ Said the homophobe skeleton, gay folk suck ♪ ♪ Said the Heritage Policy skeleton, ♪ ♪ Blacks are out of luck ♪ ♪ Said the macho skeleton, women in their place ♪ ♪ Said the Fundamentalist skeleton, ♪ ♪ increase the human race ♪

♪ Said the right-to-life skeleton, foetus has a soul ♪ ♪ Said the pro-choice skeleton, shove it up your hole ♪ ♪ Said the downsized skeleton, robots got my job ♪ ♪ Said the tough-on-crime skeleton, tear gas the mob ♪ ♪ Said the governor skeleton, cut school lunch ♪ ♪ Said the mayor skeleton, eat the budget crunch ♪ ♪ Said the Neocon skeleton, free market’s the way ♪ ♪ Said the savings and loan skeleton, make the state pay ♪ ♪ Said the Chrysler skeleton, pay for you and me ♪ ♪ Said the nuke power skeleton, and me and me and me ♪ ♪ Said the ecologic skeleton, keep skies blue ♪ ♪ Said the multinational skeleton, what’s it worth to you ♪ ♪ Said the NAFTA skeleton, get rich, free trade ♪ ♪ Said the Maquiladora skeleton, sweat shops, low-paid ♪ ♪ The rich GATT skeleton said, one world, high tech ♪ ♪ Said the underclass skeleton, get it in the neck ♪ ♪ Said the World Bank skeleton, cut down your trees ♪ ♪ Said the IMF skeleton, buy American cheese ♪

Jess, we can halt it there. So I love this energy, this connection between the two, you know, and such a fascinating collaboration here with McCartney, Paul McCartney, and Ginsberg. Dylan said that of the only people he was ever intimidated by was Paul McCartney. Interestingly, he said, not John Lennon, he said John Lennon had an amazing voice, you know, and amazing other qualities and lyrics. But he said McCartney could do everything. He could write, he could compose, he could sing, he could create, he had rhythm, he had melody, he understood history of music, complete. There’s an amazing interview where he talks about his complete admiration and respect for McCartney of the four Beatles, you know, obviously the others as well. And he worked with George Harrison a lot, and obviously with John Lennon.

But it was McCartney who he was really intimidated by. So fascinating. And I think this captures for me, also it’s very resonant for today. I mean, it’s obviously pretty didactic and it’s in your face, you know, but it’s part rant, it’s part darkly prophetic, part prayer, you know, or it’s got an influence of contemporary hip hop almost, but it captures the era’s psyche. It’s contradictory urges and contradictory passions and contradictory thoughts, you know, and people trying to figure out what’s going on, because the urges are flashing all the time. The fault lines of a country and a society exposed, a psyche of an era, of a period. But he’s writing it much later, of course, not just in the '60s. And I think it does speak to our times as well, where, you know, so many of these similar things are happening.

Obviously, you know, as fascism increasingly threatens, as the shadows lengthen, you know, in all our cultures across the world, you know, these kind of words seem to come back and resonate, knowing how, you know, attached they are of course, to their own era that they are written. Okay, but in the end, I think that we can feel it in the way he’s even reading, and the way he’s trying to present himself, there’s something so deeply Talmudic, and deeply spiritual in Ginsberg as well. And I do think, you know, it’s part prayer, part rant, but where the prayer comes from is that ancient Jewish origin, which he’s absolutely aware of, together with that history I described, you know, the tragic history of his mother. Okay, I want to go on, and if we can please Jess, if we can go on to number 12. I’m going to skip one or two here, “Desolation Row”, “Simple Twist of Fate”, and this is “Things Have Changed”, which Dylan won the Oscar for best original song, and much later from the album called “Time Out of Mind”. So, 11 please.

♪ Music Plays ♪

♪ A worried man with a worried mind ♪ ♪ No one in front of me and nothing behind ♪ ♪ There’s a woman on my lap and she’s drinking champagne ♪ ♪ Got white skin, got assassin’s eyes ♪ ♪ I’m looking up into the sapphire-tinted skies ♪ ♪ I’m well dressed, waiting on the last train ♪ ♪ Standing on the gallows with my head in a noose ♪ ♪ Any minute now I’m expecting all hell to break loose ♪ ♪ People are crazy and times are strange ♪ ♪ I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range ♪ ♪ I used to care, but things have changed ♪ ♪ This place ain’t doing me any good ♪ ♪ I’m in the wrong town, I should be in Hollywood ♪ ♪ Just for a second there I thought I saw something move ♪ ♪ Going to take dancing lessons, do the jitterbug rag ♪ ♪ Ain’t no shortcuts, going to dress in drag ♪ ♪ Only a fool in here would think ♪ ♪ he’s got anything to prove ♪ ♪ Lot of water under the bridge, lot of other stuff too ♪ ♪ Don’t get up gentlemen, I’m only passing through ♪ ♪ People are crazy and times are strange ♪ ♪ I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range ♪ ♪ I used to care, but things have changed ♪

And if we can stay, please. So, you know, from one of his great albums of much more, of recent times, “Things Have Changed”, 1997. He’s casting a jaundiced eye over the world, which he feels out of step with, don’t we all? And but there’s an insistent, a kind of shuffling push to the music, the portents of impending doom, but it’s dismissed with a shrug. You know, he’s dancing like the joker, that attached another persona. “I used to care, but things have changed” and you know, it’s such a simple line. Maybe it’s banal, maybe it’s cliched, but he’s trying to ironically, actually wake us up to think, you know, that things, you know, we’ve got to change the way, the way things are changing. I think there’s an ironic attempt inside the song to do the opposite of what he’s actually saying.

Okay, the last one I want to play out with is just a little bit of the song that Patti Smith sang at the Nobel Prize acceptance, with the song that she loved the most. One of his great great songs, again, so young when he wrote it, “Hard Rain’s Going to Fall”, it’s the last one, please Jess, and no, number 13. And we will see just a little bit at the beginning. It’s remarkable poetry, which he wrote at such a young age. Of course, it’s about the possible apocalypse of the impending, the Cuban Missile Crisis, at the times. You know, hard rain of course is atomic radioactive fallout, and et cetera, is the metaphor inside it. And of course it is so powerful for us, I think today. Okay, if we can play it please.

♪ Music Plays ♪

♪ Where you been, my blue-eyed son ♪ ♪ Where have you been, my darling young one ♪ ♪ I’ve stumbled alongside of 12 misty mountains ♪ ♪ I’ve walked and I’ve crawled down six crooked highways ♪ ♪ I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests ♪ ♪ Been out in front of a dozen dead oceans ♪ ♪ Been 10,000 miles on the mouth of the graveyard ♪ ♪ It’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard ♪ ♪ It’s a hard rain’s going to fall ♪ ♪ What did you see, my blue-eyed son ♪ ♪ What did you see, my darling young one ♪ ♪ Saw a newborn babe with wild wolves all around it ♪ ♪ Saw the highway of diamonds with nobody on it ♪ ♪ I saw the black branch with blood that kept dripping ♪ ♪ I saw the babe that was just bleeding. ♪ ♪ I saw a the babe that ♪

• I’m sorry. ♪ Heard, saw ten ♪ Sorry, I’m sorry, could we start that section? I apologise, sorry I’m so nervous.

• Okay, and then we can hold it there please? Okay Jess, thanks. So, you know, she goes on with the whole song, which is, you know, six and a half minutes of “Hard Rain”, but it’s in front of, you know, the ultimate of I guess the Swedish Academy too, for the Nobel Prize for Dylan. A remarkable, incredible life, from the small humble beginnings to where he’s achieved so many, not just the awards, not just the Nobel Prize, but how he can voice so many thoughts and feelings, for not only his generation, but I think for far, far longer, and our times now to come. With this song in particular, he said it roared right out of his typewriter. And as in one of the other scholars wrote, “A torrent of apocalyptic imagery,” of course.

But, and of course it’s the response to the Cuban Missile Crisis and the fear. But I think it can be adapted, because it’s all in metaphor, it’s poetry. It’s not literal, didactic. We can find our own meaning in our own times as to what might come, you know, that we all are aware of only too well. The last thing I want to mention, and I’m sorry I’m going over just a couple of minutes, but I think it is helpful. One of the other great songs that I want to mention right at the end, I’m not going to play it. “All Along The Watchtower”, which is a very underrated song, which Jimi Hendrix made into such an iconic version, which was based after he had the motorcycle accident, where he obviously thoughts of mortality, life, death, so many other things. He’s reading the Bible, and there’s a chapter from Isaiah, chapter 21 from Isaiah, that struck him in reading it, 'cause you can find actual words in Isaiah, in that chapter, in “All Along the Watchtower”.

Again, it’s that combination of acrimony and tenderness, of thoughtfulness, of anger, of hurt, of suffering, of wanting, you know, of kindness and compassion and rage. There’s always that ambiguity. That is part of his relentless and restless search to understand, to belong, as a Jewish outsider other, as an artist outsider other, and you know, as not only a great American, but a great human being in my personal opinion. And the song goes, just some of the key lines, which I want to finish with. “There must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief. There’s too much conclusion, there’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief. Businessmen, they drink my wine, plough men dig my earth. None will level on the line. No reason to get excited, the thief, he kindly spoke. There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.

But you and I, we’ve been through that, and that is not our fate. So let us stop talking falsely now, the hour is getting late. All along the watchtower, its princes kept the view. Outside in the cold distance, wildcat did growl. Two riders were approaching and the wind began to howl.” A lot of those phrases come directly from Isaiah:21. Just two things I want to mention at the end with Dylan. You know, those people who don’t take it seriously, what’s happening in our times, those people who find cynicism so easy, or as I’ve often maintained, cynicism is actually the last refuge of the romantic. Those people who easily jump into transactional, cynical, you know, being that scene, that who cares attitude, especially in our times. “There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke, just a performance showman. But you and I, we’ve been through that, it’s not our fate. So let’s stop talking falsely now, the hour is getting late. And then at the end, the wild cat did growl, two riders were approaching,” which is linked to Isaiah, “and the wind began to howl.” And I think the wind is beginning to howl in our own times, if I may stretch the metaphor.

Okay, I’m going to hold it there. Thank you so much everybody. Sorry I went over a few minutes, and really appreciate and hope everybody’s well and we can take the questions.

Q&A and Comments

It’s Jeremy, “Can’t forgive Ginsberg for influencing so many kids in drugs.” I agree, Jeremy, absolutely. But I suppose the only perspective, and I’m not trying to justify him, I’m not trying to justify Ginsberg, is that what was underneath it, and also he certainly wasn’t the only one, many who maybe had better, more influence, you know, in the rock musicians. Diane, “Sounds like there’s so much to cover for Dylan. Maybe another session needed.” Oh, you’re absolutely right, Diane. I mean, you know, this guy’s on another level, for me completely. “In '75 in Maple Leaf Gardens, Toronto, Dylan and the Rolling Thunder review, the great group of talent.” Oh, the concert was five hours, God. Gordon Lightfoot, oh yes, I know about the Joni Mitchell. Fantastic, it’s great to hear. Thank you. Oh Rita, thanks for sharing that about the concert.

Margaret, “I’m looking to be educated, never having found any connection to Dylan.” Margaret, you’ll have to tell me if I helped to educate you or not. Okay Bob, “Coincidentally watched the wonderful YouTube of Dylan’s Nobel Prize.” Yeah, the speech is fantastic. “He wasn’t there, the American ambassador,” that’s another speech, that was the acceptance speech. And then much later comes the whole long one, which is about, which is, he talks about “Moby Dick”, he talks about Homer’s “Odyssey”, Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”, and a whole lot of others in the much longer speech, which you can also find on YouTube. Yehudi, “Don’t forget Joan Baez, who gave him his start,” absolutely.

Sam, “Dylan’s semi-detached outsider perspective seems evident as he has seen participating in the recent Netflix film.” Yep, absolutely. You know, and it’s part of being, taking on so many identities and personas that he did throughout his life, you know, 60 years of doing this. And, but also I think ultimately, it’s yet searching and constantly shifting, refusing to be pinned down. It is not he or she or them or it that you belong to.

Q: Victoria, “Is it a photo of Prague?” A: Yes Victoria, that’s a photo of Prague and the Charles Bridge behind.

Miriam, “As a kid, my understanding in discussion is that 'Like a Rolling Stone’ is considered a folk song. Attending a Zionist camp, we were told that Dylan was a folk singer, he was worthy.” Yeah, and, that was one of the songs which he broke in, where he moved from folk, you know, to electric. Bob, “He went to Herzl camp in Devil’s Lake.” Ah, thank you.

Q: Rona, “Have you heard of Rodriguez? A: Of course, "Sugarman”, and he was so huge in South Africa, he was likened to Bob Dylan, and discovered. Yeah, the fantastic film “Searching for Sugarman”, and I met the Swedish director who created the film of “Searching for Sugarman”, which is fantastic. And Rodriguez was absolutely like a Dylan almost, but all sorts of long stories why he was blocked, in a way, it’s brilliant.

Marcia, “Searching for Sugarman”, yeah. And a superb documentary on him. Rita, “Mick Jagger defending Dylan.” Yeah, the interviewer is criticising it. Absolutely. I mean all these guys become great friends. Enormous respect amongst all of them, and their longevity, you know, into their 70s, their 80s, from McCartney to Jagger, to Dylan, Leonard Cohen. So many of them, they just don’t stop. 50, 60 years of creating and making. It’s an extraordinary testament to such a strong artistic temperament, tenacity, ambition, and intelligence. Martin, “Pete Seeger talked about seeing this quiet, shy kid,” yeah, “around Woody Guthrie in the early ‘60s,” absolutely. Dylan certainly refers to Woody Guthrie’s influence many, many times later on in his life, as being the huge influence, the one that I mentioned, right at the beginning of the talk.

Monty, hope you’re well. “Hopefully sometime in the future you’ll give us a lecture in the Hebrew poetry of Yehuda Amichai.” Yeah, it’s available in English. That’s a great idea, thanks Monty. Rochelle, “Learned so much about Dylan taking Mark Daley’s lecture.” Oh, that’s great, “At Rice in University lecture series.” Great, thank you.

Q: Leslie, “Where is evidence Ginsberg’s Jewishness is so central?” A: Well, the poem “Kaddish”, you know, I purposely haven’t looked at it today because I was focusing on the other two. But the poem “Kaddish”, I mean the very title, you know, written for his mother, Naomi Ginsberg. And I feel it’s so deep inside him, in so many of the references, and so deep inside him as a person, in other interviews and other things that he spoke about that Jewish influence.

Michael, one second. “In a previous rendition he said he was a Catholic.” Okay, I need to check that. Okay, maybe, I don’t know, but I’ll have to check that. And I mean, he tried Buddhism and many other things, but I think the Jewish is so deep, when you read more about his family, and his mother going to see her as a teenager in the mental institutions, the Jewishness of the parents, and calling, you know, one of your two great poems “Kaddish”, I mean, you know, it’s there. Leslie, “His parents also gave him a commitment to freedom, a left wing inequality,” yeah, all those, absolutely. Especially through his mother, and it’s through his father, the love of poetry.

Carol, “Summer before starting at University of Toronto, a sophisticated person introduced me to Dylan, a voice like gravel.” That’s great, Carol. “No one ever knew I’d heard of Bob Dylan, this is 1963.” Yeah, a lot of people don’t like him, and I understand that completely. You know, don’t like the voice, or don’t like something of the attitude, or finding, you know, too distant or detached. And I get it completely, and respect that obviously completely. But it’s the poetry, it’s the words that I’m trying to get at today. Ron hi, hope you’re very well. “Dylan wasn’t born in a small town. He was born in Duluth, Minnesota and then moved to Hibbing,” yeah. “The largest port in the Great Lakes, important trading centre.” Okay, I thought at the time it was smaller, but I stand to be corrected Ron, thank you.

Sam, “I had the good fortune to see Rodriguez on tour,” great. Val, thank you kind comments. Rita, thank you for your kind comments. “The lengthening shadows.” Thank you. That’s very kind for you to say. Jill, “I missed the contribution you say was Dylan.” Dylan who said that he admired and was intimidated the most of all the Beatles by McCartney, because he said McCartney could do everything, as I mentioned. He could compose, he could write, he could sing. He had so much knowledge of history of music, and just the endless creativity that came out of McCartney in every single way. And Lennon, he said, “a voice like that,” and other things about John Lennon. George Harrison complained, 'cause he worked with George Harrison a lot, and George Harrison, you know, said to him, “Yeah, but you know, Lennon and McCartney never hardly let me sing my own songs.” And Dylan said to him, “Look, you know, you’re my great friend George, but you had some stiff competition with Lennon and McCartney.” Barbara, thank you. Ferlinghetti, yeah, it was just too much, thanks, to include. Kind comments Barbara, thank you.

Q: Monty, “Did the AIDS epidemic have an influence?” A: Yes, he mentions it in that last one that I showed where he does it with McCartney. Yeah, I don’t know if he was HIV positive or not.

Then Janet, “Saw Dylan several times in Ottawa,” great.

Q: Marilyn, “Who was the singer who got nervous?” A: That’s Patti Smith, she was a punk rock singer, a younger generation to Dylan, and her great album was “Horses”, fantastic singer and performer in America. And she is one of the biggest lovers of Dylan, and the music and the poetry, and she chose to sing “Hard Rain”. You can watch the whole thing on YouTube, the whole song. It’s over six minutes, six and a half minutes of her singing it, and it’s a stunning rendition of her singing it. Patti Smith was her name, yeah. And she’s very iconic in history of rock and roll, Patti Smith, and was a younger generation, great fan of Dylan’s.

Janet, he called Ottawa the, okay. Carol, “Enormous connection between Dylan and Leonard Cohen.” I mean, that would be another whole talk. They had such respect and admiration for each other. They admired, they spoke about each other’s work. Dylan called Leonard Cohen genius. Leonard Cohen called him the genius, and that he was Mount Everest, you know, as Leonard Cohen said at the, at the beginning, “Giving him the Nobel Prize was like pinning a medal onto the top of Mount Everest.” You know, that he held Dylan in such awe and respect, right up there. But the two of them, of course, and Dylan said, “Hallelujah” of Leonard Cohen’s was one of the great songs ever written, the great poems ever written. You know, one could just talk about that relationship, that friendship and respect. And of course their Jewishness. You know, Leonard Cohen is much more rooted in his Jewishness as cultural identity, and the horns of the dilemma of assimilation. But you know, it’s not by chance they’re so close, they were so close.

Monica thank you, Avril thank you. Nima thank you, Helen thank you. Appreciate your kind comments. Bobby, thank you, thank you. Caroline, you’re also very kind, thank you. Dave, “I was at a Dylan concert in '78, the Nazi stadium in Nuremberg,” yes, where he did with Eric Clapton, over 70,000. Yeah, he went there, he performed, he was in Israel. I mean, you know, he’s all over, “The Never Ending Tour”. Terry and Carol, thank you. Yeah, that’s what I wanted to go into, the power of words and music. You know, how they can uplift us, as you say, with thought and emotion. Terry thank you, and Carol thank you. How they can lift us, and also give us insights even whether it’s about loss, suffering, anxiety, fear about the future, the present, whatever. It’s what art does. Dylan said the aim of art is to inspire.

Reto, thank you. Tom Lira, yeah absolutely. I’ve done it before, but you know, maybe dig in, thank you. Josie, “The Jewishness of Dylan and Leonard Cohen,” yeah, it’s a fantastic, of course, the mystical roots of genius, exactly, with Leonard Cohen, yeah. They were really close as friends and understood each other as human beings, backgrounds, the Jewishness, and they talked about each other. And of course their poetry and their musics. Esther, thank you for kind comment. Alice, “When Dylan shifted to electric, audience chanted traitor,” yes. Yeah, but he carried on. Alison thank you, that’s kind. Jill, “Dylan became Jew for Jesus.” Yeah, part of that changing persona, search for identity, that endless restless search that I mentioned, which for me comes from the Jewish outsider other, which we are all experiencing, pardon me, so much now, of course, in these really dark times. Dave, “He dominated the occasion by the power of his personality.” Absolutely, that’s incredible.

Thank you. Anna, “Very good artist.” Yeah, his paintings are exhibited, that’s great. In London, yep. The street, thank you Anna. Francine, “A lot of people don’t like Dylan.” Many people do think, I agree with you, Francine. A lot of people think it’s naval gazing. It’s too inward, it’s too, it’s maybe emotionally indulgent, all of it. Or his voice, absolutely, his voice has been attacked so many times. And George Harrison said, “Listening to sandpaper singing.” But you know, and that’s part of the treasure of art, isn’t it? We love it or hate it, or we like it, we don’t like it. We argue, we debate, we engage with it is the point. It doesn’t, but we can’t ignore it.

Q: Susan, “Any idea why Dylan and Leonard Cohen and both played the harmonica?” A: Very interesting. I think it comes out of a folk tradition, and of course it goes back to slave tradition, and post-slavery in America as well.

Amanda, oh Rhonda, sorry. Thank you, that’s very kind. “Went to my first Dylan concert, the clone Patti Smith. Their writing is rich,” yeah, that’s great, thanks. “Sunny cold Toronto.” Lena, “Remember Dylan became born again.” Yeah, he was a born again Christian at some point. But you know, he was that for a while, then he was other, I mean, constantly shifting and moving all the time. In a way, I don’t believe Ginsberg’s Buddhism, you know, stayed forever. These are periods, and don’t we all go through different phases in our lives, from youth to different decades of our lives? You know, we go through this phase, that phase, maybe more political, maybe more religious or spiritual in all different ways, but you cannot escape. And why escape, but cannot, you know, the Jewishness and the ancient quality of it, the history, the culture, and so much of it. And ultimately, you know, the endless this, the endless, you know fork, a fork in the road of assimilation.

There’s no question, in the West. “If you become Christian, you’re still Jewish.” Absolutely, I mean, look how many German Jews became Christian before 1933 in Germany. Did it help? Of course not. You know, and elsewhere, Fritz Haber, the remarkable scientist who wins the Nobel Prize for, you know, isolating ammonia, which helps to create modern fertiliser, so you can fertilise four times the amount of food on the same acre of ground that you could before, wins the Nobel Prize as a chemist. Also invented, or was part of the team that ended up inventing Zyklon B, obviously unintentionally, not knowing. But you know, he tries to become more German than German. But, you know, very sad ending in 1940, and that’s when Einstein said to him, “You suffered from the tragedy of the German Jew, the tragedy of unrequited love from the German people.” Einstein, very friendly with Haber. One example I’ll give you of Fritz Haber, but so many others. Of course, you know that even if you become Christian, and Haber became, and others, you’re still Jewish, because the society will not change it. And that’s Sartre’s argument in his book, “The Antisemite and the Jew”, doesn’t matter. You can become Christian, become this, you become that. The society will determine it in the West.

Q: “How many of today’s young people are listening to Dylan?” A: I’m not sure. That’s a great question.

Sandy, your present comment, oh yeah, thank you. Thank you, that’s kind of you.

Q: Diane, “Is there a Bob Dylan in today’s world?” A: I don’t think so. I mean, there are individual songs, you know, here and there. I think Amy Winehouse could have, if she’d lived beyond 27, she could have gone on to be a remarkable voice, Amy Winehouse from London. Father is a cab driver, was, you know, Jewish as well. Incredible voice, incredible talent. She might have well gone on to do many things, you know. And there are others, but nobody with this amount of work, this passion, this interest, you know, 50, 60 years of of of just the output of poetry and literature for me.

Susan, thank you. Rita, his son Jacob? Yeah. His son’s band is the Wallflowers, yeah. I met his son when I was studying in New York, and Dylan’s son was studying drama at NYU. Anyway, another story for another time.

• [Jess] David, I’m pretty sure we’re at the end, so we-

• Okay, we’re at the end.

• Yes.

• Thank you very much.

• [Jess] You’re doing very well, getting through all those 57 comments, you know. But we have to stop.

• Thank you Jess, thank you so much, and all the best to you for all the many reasons we spoke, and thank you everybody. Take care, and have a great rest of the weekend.