The Philosophy of Modern Song by Bob Dylan

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'The Philosophy of Modern Song' by Bob Dylan

Is it a collection of record reviews or meta-connecting the cultural dots or stream of consciousness riffing with songs as jumping-off points? 

“Listen to the harmony vocals. They sound like they are being done in someone’s kitchen.”

Read into it what you may—and many of us will, Bob Dylan’s book of short essays, The Philosophy of Modern Song presents over 60 songs as perceived under the scrutiny of a Nobel winning songwriter. If you’ve listened to his Theme Time Radio Hour programs it is impossible to read this book without hearing Dylan’s staccato delivery, a not-so-distant film noir cousin to Dragnet’s Sergeant Joe Friday.

“The guy is a thief. He steals meat, he steals chickens and he gets his women good and drunk. People say about entertainers they may sing and play okay, but they are not good people. This song tells you why.”

Human emotions, style, war, the responsibility of voters after they leave the booth, Shakespeare, technology, love, history as told by the winners--not surprisingly the book contains multitudes. There is no such thing as genre; Dylan is as wonderfully omnivorous as we hoped. Cher, Carl Perkins, the enigma known as Bobby Darin, Ray Charles, Domenico Modugno, Edwin Starr, Rosemary Clooney, Jimmy Reed, Uncle Dave Macon, Nina Simone and more make the cut. After reading Dylan’s thoughts, you will never hear Marty Robbins’ “El Paso” the same way again.

“This is Moloch, the cat’s eye pyramid, the underbelly of beauty, where you take away the bottom number and the others fall. The cowboy chosen one, bloody mass sacrifice, Jews of the Holocaust, Christ in the temple, the blood of Aztecs up on the altar.”

In a brilliant essay on “Poison Love” by Johnny and Jack, Dylan laments, “Rock and roll went from being a brick through the window to the status quo…to Kiss belt buckles sold in mall stores…to Thug Life press-on tattoos…as the bean counters constantly recalibrate the risk-to-reward ratio of public taste.” 

It's been suggested that the author be taken to task for brushing off scores of great female songwriters and performers, while the cover image may be an attempt to cover all the bases—Black music legend and non-binary pioneer Little Richard and Rockabilly icon Eddie Cochran bookend an obscure artist, the Elvis-influenced Alis Lesley.

“But divorce lawyers don’t care about familial bonds; they are, by definition in the destruction business.”

You can’t help but wonder, is this Dylan or a character presenting these essays? Has he ever been less than an unreliable narrator? Does it matter? It all rings true on some level. He sure seems to get his kicks, but the list of 66 songs doesn’t include the Bobby Troupe hit, emblematic of seeing the USA in a Chevrolet—the era in which this volume is steeped. 

At the end of the day Dylan is as much an educator as a fan of music and song and art. And his perception is sharp as a razor, as in writing about Sonny Burgess’ “Feel So Good.”

“”…Wolf-bait on mescaline…This is tip-top rock and roll at its finest, in pure form. In the halls of the Rock and Roll Museum it would reign supreme and unrivaled if it was only in there.”