Just a quick note to say that I’m looking forward to the release of the Bootleg Series vol. 10, Another Self Portrait, which will highlight the very interesting period around 1970, seeing the controversial releases of Self Portrait and New Morning.
Since I consider this to be one of the two, perhaps three most interesting periods in Dylan’s career (the others being the gospel years and the early 90s) (not that I don’t like the early and mid 60s), while at the same time having previously sided with those who said: “What’s this shit?” about Self Portrait when it came out, I’m especially looking forward to setting thing straight concerning why I consider SP a bad album.
Tom Lehrer once said: “If you can’t communicate, the least you can do is shut up!”
I’ve been living by that adage: if I don’t think what I have to say will make any difference, then why say it?
I don’t have an expressive urge, and history is filled with great art, made and transmitted by people who did have that urge and who did know what to do with it.
I fool around, though. Here’s a song, and this is the story:
A friend of mine was a character, not exactly centre stage but perhaps a little to the side, on the Danish punk scene in the early 80s. After several years of doing other things, she suddenly found out she wanted to make some music again. We met up and worked out a song from her translation of a poem by the Danish punk icon, Michael Strunge. The result wasn’t exactly punk, but it wasn’t exactly not punk either.
In the process, I happened to dig out a collection of poems by the Norwegian punk poet, Gene Dalby, from my bookshelf. The result wasn’t exactly a translation, but it wasn’t exactly not a translation either.
D Em9/b C9
All my fault, It was
D Em9/b C9
all my fault
D Em9/b C9
Spoke to you in keywords.
D Em9/b C9
Choice be- tween
F G
crossword and jigsaw puzzle.
G7 A7/add6
crossword and jigsaw puzzle.
D Em9/b C9
I thought jigsaw was out.
D Em9/b C9
My fault.
D Em9/b C9
all my fault.
F
You felt your way
G
I was insensitive
F
You gave me your all
G
it gave me nothing
Am7 G/b C C#m7-5 Dm7 G7
Your words are shrapnels under mental finger nails
G A7
Someone has run a plow through your pretty head
G A7
and planted hatred like mad.
D /c# /b /a
But I didn't come to reap bitterness
G /f# Em7 A7
or duck from the bricks of theory
D Em9/b C9
that you hurl at me
D Em9/b C9
I don't give a damn
F G7
if you replace your emotional life
F G7
with doctrines and vibrators.
G A7
You're trying to commit suicide with aspirin.
G A7
That's never going to work.
Am G/b C Bbmaj7
It's like playing Russian roulette with an unloaded gun.
E7 D/a Em9 C9/g
Let me lend you a knife.
D/a Em9 C9/g
D/a Em9 C9/g
My heartbeat is just a recoil.
D/a Em9 C9/g
From a gun in the cellar of an empty house.
Bb F Gm7 C7
In front of the house there's a fountain.
Bbmaj7
And sometimes
C7
the wind comes
F A7 Dm D7
and tears at the fountain's veil
Gm7
and blows droplets
C7
on to the cellar window
Db7
droplets too small
Bbm
to look like tears at all
Gm7-5 E7/g# A
but they still remind me of something.
D Em9/b C9
I just came by to tell you
D Em9/b C9
that you can keep my bulletproof vest
Bbmaj7 C7 D/ Em9/b C9
I don't need it anymore.
D/a Em9 C9/g
D/a Em9 C9/g
My heartbeat is just a recoil.
D/a Em9 C9/g
I will never get used to it.
D/a Em9 C9/g
But I keep on
D/a Em9 C9/g
shooting.
D/a Em9 C9/g
D/a Em9 C9/g
D/a Em9 C9/g
D/a Em9 C9/g
=========================
Chords
=========================
D xx0232 D/a x00232
Em9/b x2x032 Em9 020032
C9 x3x030 C9/g 332330
A7/add6 x02022
C#m7-5 x42000
Bbmaj7 x13231
Db7 x4342x
Bbm x13321
Gm7-5 3x332x
E7/g# 422100