Theophobia

[IanEye]

Dylan's a big Residents fan.

[vanlose kid]

^ ^



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[IanEye]

The hole in the pocket, the rip in the sleeve
All the reasons we seek to believe
That something must come of the loss and the pain
Faith may be madness but doubt is insane

[vanlose kid]

Chris Cornell's a big Dylan fan.



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[MacCruiskeen]

The godlike John Otway as Bob Dylan as Gloria Gaynor:

[IanEye]

Johnny Cash is a big Cornell fan.

[Hammer of Los]

In that video Dylan says (bolded), in answer to the question

"Why do you still do it, why are you still out here?"
"It goes back to that destiny thing. You know I made a de.., bargain with the ... you know. Long time ago, and I'm holding up my end."
"What was your bargain?"
"To get where I am, am now."
Dylan looks thoughtful and serious, perhaps a little sad.
"Should I ask who you made the bargain with?"
Dylan laughs.
"With.. with.. with.." laughs "With you know, the Chief, er, the Chief Commander."
"What, on this earth?"
Interviewer smiles, perhaps assuming Dylan means God.
"On this earth, and in the er, the world we can't see."

He might mean God, or the Devil. But when he says the bargain was to get where he is now, that implies his success, his wealth, his celebrity and so on. Worldly things, things of this world. Does one normally make a bargain with God to acquire fame, success, wealth? I think not.

I'm not sure he means the Devil either, of course, at least not in any half way literal sense. You can clearly hear him start to say the word "Devil;" he gets as far as "De.." quite clearly, slurred though his speech is. Perhaps he means, by chief commander, the commander in chief, the President of the United States. Perhaps his protest songs were carefully scripted for stage managing US military psyops on the young. Laurel Canyon, of course.

Nice pick, Tazmic.

[vanlose kid]

^ ^

nah, he went down to the crossroad one night and made a deal.
tried to get out of it and almost got killed. got religion but can't get out of the contract.



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[vanlose kid]

Meeting with the Devil at the Crossroads

A "vision", as told by Henry Goodman


Robert Johnson been playing down in Yazoo City and over at Beulah trying to get back up to Helena, ride left him out on a road next to the levee, walking up the highway, guitar in his hand propped up on his shoulder. October cool night, full moon filling up the dark sky, Robert Johnson thinking about Son House preaching to him, "Put that guitar down, boy, you drivin' people nuts." Robert Johnson needing as always a woman and some whiskey. Big trees all around, dark and lonesome road, a crazed, poisoned dog howling and moaning in a ditch alongside the road sending electrified chills up and down Robert Johnson's spine, coming up on a crossroads just south of Rosedale. Robert Johnson, feeling bad and lonesome, knows people up the highway in Gunnison. Can get a drink of whiskey and more up there. Man sitting off to the side of the road on a log at the crossroads says, "You're late, Robert Johnson." Robert Johnson drops to his knees and says, "Maybe not."

The man stands up, tall, barrel-chested, and black as the forever-closed eyes of Robert Johnson's stillborn baby, and walks out to the middle of the crossroads where Robert Johnson kneels. He says, "Stand up, Robert Johnson. You want to throw that guitar over there in that ditch with that hairless dog and go on back up to Robinsonville and play the harp with Willie Brown and Son, because you just another guitar player like all the rest, or you want to play that guitar like nobody ever played it before? Make a sound nobody ever heard before? You want to be the King of the Delta Blues and have all the whiskey and women you want?"

"That's a lot of whiskey and women, Devil-Man."

"I know you, Robert Johnson," says the man.

Robert Johnson, feels the moonlight bearing down on his head and the back of his neck as the moon seems to be growing bigger and bigger and brighter and brighter. He feels it like the heat of the noonday sun bearing down, and the howling and moaning of the dog in the ditch penetrates his soul, coming up through his feet and the tips of his fingers through his legs and arms, settling in that big empty place beneath his breastbone causing him to shake and shudder like a man with the palsy. Robert Johnson says, "That dog gone mad."

The man laughs. "That hound belong to me. He ain't mad, he's got the Blues. I got his soul in my hand."

The dog lets out a low, long soulful moan, a howling like never heard before, rhythmic, syncopated grunts, yelps, and barks, seizing Robert Johnson like a Grand Mal, and causing the strings on his guitar to vibrate, hum, and sing with a sound dark and blue, beautiful, soulful chords and notes possessing Robert Johnson, taking him over, spinning him around, losing him inside of his own self, wasting him, lifting him up into the sky. Robert Johnson looks over in the ditch and sees the eyes of the dog reflecting the bright moonlight or, more likely so it seems to Robert Johnson, glowing on their own, a deep violet penetrating glow, and Robert Johnson knows and feels that he is staring into the eyes of a Hellhound as his body shudders from head to toe.

The man says, "The dog ain't for sale, Robert Johnson, but the sound can be yours. That's the sound of the Delta Blues."

"I got to have that sound, Devil-Man. That sound is mine. Where do I sign?"

The man says, "You ain't got a pencil, Robert Johnson. Your word is good enough. All you got to do is keep walking north. But you better be prepared. There are consequences."

"Prepared for what, Devil-man?"

"You know where you are, Robert Johnson? You are standing in the middle of the crossroads. At midnight, that full moon is right over your head. You take one more step, you'll be in Rosedale. You take this road to the east, you'll get back over to Highway 61 in Cleveland, or you can turn around and go back down to Beulah or just go to the west and sit up on the levee and look at the River. But if you take one more step in the direction you're headed, you going to be in Rosedale at midnight under this full October moon, and you are going to have the Blues like never known to this world. My left hand will be forever wrapped around your soul, and your music will possess all who hear it. That's what's going to happen. That's what you better be prepared for. Your soul will belong to me. This is not just any crossroads. I put this "X" here for a reason, and I been waiting on you."

Robert Johnson rolls his head around, his eyes upwards in their sockets to stare at the blinding light of the moon which has now completely filled tie pitch-black Delta night, piercing his right eye like a bolt of lightning as the midnight hour hits. He looks the big man squarely in the eyes and says, "Step back, Devil-Man, I'm going to Rosedale. I am the Blues."

The man moves to one side and says, "Go on, Robert Johnson. You the King of the Delta Blues. Go on home to Rosedale. And when you get on up in town, you get you a plate of hot tamales because you going to be needing something on your stomach where you're headed."

http://www.hauntedamericatours.com/cursed/

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[vanlose kid]

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best Canadian band ever, Cowboy Junkies, cover "Me and the Devil" from Whites Off Earth Now.



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[American Dream]

THERE WAS DUST ON THE MAN IN THE LONG BLACK COAT:
DYLAN AND HEROIN

"Howdya like to do some dugi" Dylan version of Guthrie's Car Car 19--61

Bobby Dylan has had a long-term substance abuse problem dating back to 1961. In Chronicles 2004 Dylan wrote that Ray Gooch the man whose apartment (crib) Dylan was a guest at (crashed at) for the most extended period of time when he first came to New York City was “an opium smoker…burning little kilos of bricks until they became like gum.” A kilo is 2.2 pounds and Dylan wrote that Ray was heavily armed so he was obviously a middle-echelon dealer. Dylan did not write that he sampled Ray’s product, although I believe that he did and became an opium smoker and a “joy popper” at a very early age and an addict by 1966. These lines in Tarantula may refer to Gooch, who worked in Brooklyn, and was a “non-integrationist” - a euphemism Dylan invented for segregationist: “Barbara Allen - she smuggles Moroccan cinders (a rectangular hollow building block similar to a brick) into Brooklyn twice a month & she wears a sheet - (in For Dave Glover Dylan wrote, “It’s the time a the white collar shirt an the white sheeted hood”) she takes many penicillin shots.” It is also my opinion Dylan first looked to Judaism to help him overcome this medical problem and when it failed, he turned to Christianity. When Christianity failed, or he failed it, I believe Dylan went back to his addiction.

[vanlose kid]

what a freakin' idiot.

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[MacCruiskeen]

Can we rename this thread 'Bobophilia'?


I'm beginning to hear voices and there's no one around.

Well, I'm all used up and the fields have turned brown.

I went to church on Sunday and she passed by.

My love for her is taking such a long time to die.

[Canadian_watcher]

The devil, "Evil," thrives on desperation, IMO. It is like it can sense it in any concentration and targets the vulnerable.
Desperate for love, for survival, for a job, for fame, for success, for revenge... Evil makes hay of self-pity.
It comes in those moments and offers up a solution. "Lead us not into temptation." Perhaps desperation is the highest level of temptation.

All these tales of 'deals with the devil,' don't strike me as being that far-fetched, really.

[American Dream]