I've been gone for 3 straight days but I want to say a few things:
1) Harry, if you think Yail Bloor and I are not Serious Students of American Culture, and understand as much or more about rock and roll, civil rights, The Southern Thing, and ay-cid as you do, then he is perfectly correct in feeling sorry for you, dude. I know you are an awesome, smart, semi-crazy gentleman of a certain age, but dude we didn't just read this shit in books, we're both pretty hip cats who went and did our damn thing for many, many years. I love you and your commentary, but don't dismiss anything we say as ill-informed. Wrong headed? Possibly, but most of even the truly outlandish provocative BS I personally spout comes from a knowing and learned center in my head. Keep that in mind next time you drop a flippant comment about The Declaration of Independence being the equivalent of what for all effects was turned into a Z-Grade hippy anthem by our modern culture machine, k?

2) Early Dylan, like the early Stones, or early Beatles is part of the legend, and you can't separate the early stuff from the later electric stuff. A song like My Back Pages is an epic fucking masterpiece, and Bloor is correct again when says stuff like Masters of War and The Times They Are A-Changin not only ring out from a musical and sonic perspective, but as a comment on our society as a whole.
3) There was a time in my life when I was a little obsessed with the effect of acid on Dylan's music and lyrics much moreso than say "trippy albums" by The Beatles or The Dead, so I am damned glad to be getting that time period -- and during the time I was obsessed with this connection and getting into the dark depths of my own soul, my favorite Dylan record to throw on was At Budokan.
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Throughout his life, from childhood until death, he was beset by severe swings of mood. His depressions frequently encouraged, and were exacerbated by, his various vices. His character mixed a superficial Enlightenment sensibility for reason and taste with a genuine and somewhat Romantic love of the sublime and a propensity for occasionally puerile whimsy.
harry Wrote:
I understand that you, of all people, know this crisis and, in your own way, are working to address it. You, the madras-pantsed julip-sipping Southern cracker and me, the oldman hippie California fruit cake are brothers in the struggle to save our country.
FT Wrote:
LooGAR (the straw that stirs the drink)