Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie (Live at Town Hall, New York, NY - April 1963 - Official Audio)
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- Опубликовано: 29 сен 2024
- "Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie" Live at Town Hall, New York, NY - April 1963 by Bob Dylan
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Just 22 years old when he wrote this
This poem changed my life when I first heard it, way back in 1993 @Hartwick College. And whenever I feel lost, I listen to it again, like today. Thank God, for Dylan❤
Forget overrated Proust and overrated Joyce, too. He here says more about the human condition and makes it rhyme. 2:18
At first the metaphors seem hyperbolic, stylistic, but then they turn into ripping cold truths. You suddenly feel like this poem has been written specifically for you, thoughts you've already had, feelings you've felt for years being put to words. When I first heard this, I didn't realize how badly I needed to hear it. "Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at, Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel"
University of Vermont, 1993, age 18, a guy in my dorm called me into his room to hear this. It's been part of my life ever since. I had a cassette recording in my car that I played until it wore out. By then, I didn't need it anymore. I know all of the words and recite it in times of stress - like a form of prayer. Among the greatest poetry, from one of the greatest poets. ❤
Early 2000's, I was in high school and I heard it on a CD which I still own. This has also been a form of prayer for me ever since. A way to recalibrate when I can't remember who I am. Cheers
Greatest poem ever written. Whenever people tell me they don’t get Dylan, and start mock singing in a nasel voice. I tell them they are ignorant and play this for them. It shuts them up real quick. Thank god for Bob Dylan.
I tell ppl it's not how he sings, it's what he's singing that is important
Exactly!
Despite the Nobel prize, Dylan is still underrated as a writer. How can this poem not be widely recognized as a masterpiece of modern poem and taught in every school? This poem has the power to reach every depressed soul and bring them hope.
"And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin’ coal
Pourin’ off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you"
This is how I feel when I listen to Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie.
How was there ever any question over if he should get the Nobel Prize?
I think he even created the beginnings of rap. I'm not a rap fan. Lol couldn't wait till my kids got out of it. But I think this would make a great wrap tune. I might be wrong because I believe everything Bob Dylan does is great pretty much love God bless. God be with us 9:11 🇺🇸
@@cdmichal7033 not a huge fan of rap myself, but I’m very immersed in the culture (I’m 14) and I would not consider Dylan the first rapper. He was great at rhyming, but there are many songs that rhymed words like he did years before he was even born, especially through spoken word folk music and Christian music. Rap incorporates many rhythm and blues and hip hop sounds that make it rap. Gil Scott Heron would be considered more of a rapper (and actually is considered one when searching his name), despite not using as many rhythm devices and rhyme schemes like Dylan did.
@@Max_j9578 listen to subterranean home sick blue
Dylan was only 7 years older than you when he did this
@@scottk895 I know Dylan’s catalog, I just feel like those who consider Dylan the first rapper don’t actually listen to rap. Subterranean Homesick Blues would most likely be considered talking blues, not rap. Talking blues has existed long before Dylan came around.
en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talking_blues
This poem was a game-changer for me. ❤ My God, it's magnificent. Thanks for writing this Bobby!!
Lest I forget. Have you ever thought or possibly have you ever felt a recording artist, a poet or a musician such as Dylan or Joni Mitchell has possibly written a specific song for ones self. You know...for me? Maybe that's why they become so important within one's life. Well I again must share a little known piece of poetry Dylan was asked to write specifically for Woody Guthrie. A piece of poetry that was suppose to be comprised of a few verses..... when in actuality it turned out to be 5 pages in glorious length, and I personally believe it truly was written for every every single person, for every hobo, for every poor or homeless soul who has had to live their life facing any kind of disability. Well, I truly Believe Dylan, in all of his genius, may have written this specifically for ME.
of course he wrote it for you. We're all the same .
Bob wrote a beautiful poem for the album sleve of a joni Mitchell live album that is amazing, you should look for it.
These words really speak to me when things get abit much now and again. Exactly how I feel at times. It’s comforting thanks Bob 👍❤️
I guess i have to go the hospital? because i aint going to church. Great poem regardless.
Sorry. Can you repeat that?
RIP Sugar, my best mate who loved this.
When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve
But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills
"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache¥
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"
No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital
And though it's only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You'll find them both
In the Grand Canyon
At sundown
Heroe
Thank you for this it's a great service for Bob and Woody.
❤ from an HD afflicted family member, myself included… I don’t even know what to say. I can’t imagine how hard his life must have been, especially then. Your words cut to the bone. Thank you for sharing your talent with the world.
I have it too, only 44 repeats. It's very hard.🥲
J.M. Nielsen 1/2022 - If you tell me not that Bob Dylan was sent to us directly from heaven above, I will not believe you.
He is absolutely from Heaven above!
Truth in this world is well hidden, but this brings you as close to it as you will ever get.
14 yrs before my birth and I’m somehow only just now hearing this yesterday at 47. This truly is amazing and I’m so happy it it’s way to me and now I’m able to share this greatness with others. Thanks universe & Bob Dylan!
I wish I'd discovered bob Dylan when I was 14. I first got into him in college and only now at 32 have started a real deep dive. He would've brought so much solace and perspective to my teen self.
Can confirm. It’s really mind blowing how absolutely incredibley good every album up to and culminating in blood in the tracks is
He sure writes his heart out, puts his love into everything he creates.
Incredible ❤ Thank you
Best thing ever! Damn Dylan is the King!
I thank god everyday that Bob didn’t get the Woody lyrics that later became Mermaid Ave…
Always wise and willing to share with everyone 💞🥰👏👍
Bobby d doesn't need any Scandinavian recognition
💎 bob poured his soul out in this poem. Wow
He is absolutely from Heaven above!
The words and wisdom of God flowing through Bob.
Bob is awesome 👍👍
Magnifique! Thank You for sharing again tonight ❤🙏
I only wish he'd set this to music.
So awesome!
❤❤
A whole collesium sat quiet, and listened...
🎶⭐️
beautiful l its helped me though so many hard times
Loved this one from the moment I first heard it
Storytellers soothe the soul
Put this to music Bobby. It's wonderful verbage.
blankets of led
Thankyou Tanja xx
immenso
💛