What Have I Been Missing?

Jokerman

(Editorial originally published in Mojo, Sep 2005)

You might call me dumbfounded as I listen to "Like A Rolling Stone" for the seventh time in succession, were it not for the act of writing these very words. Immediately after reading Greil Marcus' somewhat adulatory synopsis of Bob Dylan's masterful song, I excavated the allegedly cave-like record in a frenzied attempt to discover the spinning walls and flickering lights that I must have overlooked during the countless other times I've listened to this tale of … knights, dragons, and transvestites?

Upon listening much more carefully than on past occasions, I can confirm my previous observations that this must be one of the best songs ever recorded, telling a Karmic story about a pompous high-society girl left destitute after her wealth is stolen—once oblivious to the "Riff Raff," she is now an involuntary member.

I only wish I had the same synapses firing in my brain to visualize countless instruments scatter across separate journeys, each one shooting off to the next like a series of ricochet bullets; witness the enveloping sound on a weight scale as the meter jumps from 1 to 2 million; find this mysterious, empty road of ghosts with unsurpassable, magnanimous mountains; and fathom exactly when the song gets away, who gets it back, and just how it subsequently loses its sound. I would also greatly enjoy the opportunity to study the incredibly detailed charts of measurements that must exist somewhere, acquired from some sort of pressure gauge on Dylan's nasal flow during the song's recording.

Until now, I have considered myself to be an avid music fanatic for most of my life. It has become painfully clear that I have been missing out on key musical experiences, such as transporting myself in time and space to the actual recording of a song, after following a magical and mystical trail of fairy dust left behind by a bunch of siblings of a sorcerer who is a vague acquaintance of mine. Please sign me up—I want in!