Me And Bobby

Scorsese's documentary about Dylan's youth has taken me back to my own "bliss was it in that dawn to be alive" moment. It's 1968, there are mountains outside the window and me and Graham Leader and Marc de May are going to change the world tomorrow, but today, in preparation, we're about to lean back, shut our eyes and listen to John Wesley Hardin just one more time...

Mind you, I didn't get it. Still don't. John Wesley Harding, I mean.

I have a rocky relationship with Dylan. I've always wanted to like him more than I actually do. I think the early stuff is dated and the "poetry" often facile- and yet scattered throughout his career, right up to the present, are songs I love. My very favourite is a thing called Dark Eyes which comes off a mid-80s album which many of the critics rate as his worst ever....

The second part of Scorsese's film is showing tonight. I'll be there.