Jester, Steal Another Crown

Dear Bob,

I'm writing this letter out of frustration. I'm a grown man, just as adult as the other guy and hung up on the past, even more than others. But honestly, you're killing me. I'm a dad, a professional, an amateur musician and one who does all he can to keep every next day to be just as reliable and sane as the next. I hate most businesses, gimics and the re-packaging of previous trends.

And here I am, asking you, for my sanity, to please stop it. Stop what you're doing. I implore you. You're killing me. Yes, you're killing me. Your juvenile, wily, two-bit, pompous image. Your trash. Your leftovers. Sloppy seconds.

It's your vault dump. The discarding of old trash, nearly fifty years in age, from an early-twenties little snot who thought that his whiny poetry was better than anyone's and worth hearing like it was worth listening to. I just received Volume IX of The Bootleg Series, demos from 1962-1964. Demos. Incomplete songs; audio comp-book stylings. And yet, why can't I stop listening to them? Why do I feel like I've missed out on the greatest acoustic recordings of the best singer no one's ever heard? Why do I feel like I'm spying on you? Why do your songs, even the non-descript ones, continue to haunt me, in their execution and delivery, make me feel inferior and humbled and awe-struck? Could I have touched the hem of your garments in those early Village days? Would it have worked? Or would you have told me the truth, knowing that you were really lying and just waiting for me to discover the lie?

I hate you. Leave me alone. Go away. Why can't you leave? God, I want to borrow your muse for just three minutes.

Volume 9 is truly amazing. Really? Stripped acoustic early Bob? And it works like they're the blueprints of future masterpieces and roadmaps. I'm only halfway throug this treasure trove and while this is not 'great' music, it's part of the greatest music and anything a part of the greatest is worthy of acquiring. I'll be listening to this for weeks and revisiting Bob's entire catalogue again for months. And the addendum, the 'throwaway' 1963 concert is worth the price of admission. Anything from this era, from pre-'plug-in' up through the accident is life-changing, even forty-five years in the past. The only thing that will top the releasings of more of this era's music will be the music from 1967-1969, especially the Basement Tapes. Those will never see the light of day, so issues of these are the best we'll see. Thanks, Bob. You're the best.