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Bob Dylan Revisited
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Here he is!
Bob Dylan - The Night We Called It A Day.
David Letterman show.
Tuesday, May 19th 2015:

https://vid.me/23BT
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 *Wedding of Lori and Gil Turner, 1962.*

Photographs by Joe Alper.

When Gil Turner got married in 1962, there were many musicians present, and some photographs by Joe Alper captured the event.
Among those present were Bob Dylan, Pete Seeger, and Reverend Gary Davis. They sang and passed the guitar as part of the occasion.
Gil Turner (born Gilbert Strunk; May 6, 1933 – September 23, 1974) was a folk song writer, performer, actor, founding member of The New World Singers (with Happy Traum and Bob Cohen), political activist, became MC at Gerde's Folk City in 1961, and was a lay Baptist preacher.

Turner had given up the church after he had met Pete Seeger. He had a degree in Political Science and an interest in activism.

Gil Turner was instrumental in rounding up songs for the Broadside magazine. As well as his role in Bob Dylan's career, this included him featuring songs by Phil Ochs, Mark Spoelstra, Bonnie Dobson and Len Chandler.

From Wikipedia:

"A few months later, on April 16, 1962, Dylan showed up at Gerde's at a hootennany Turner was hosting. He had just written a new song called "Blowin' in the Wind" and wanted Turner to hear it. After listening to Dylan play the song in the club's basement, Turner had Dylan show him the chords. When he went up upstairs for his next set, Turner sang the song from Dylan's rough manuscript. It was the first performance of what went on to become the greatest folk song of the 1960s"

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gil_Turner
.
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SALUTE*^**^^^
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October concert dates for Sweden, Norway, Denmark and the UK are now listed at EDLIS Parties & Gatherings.

List of events (Google Docs):
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fFSEu6ImyYAL8URAiLZ2OFhRoo9KWzyFLGqAnU8JrIw

Google+ Page: 
https://plus.google.com/u/0/b/111280795343591834226/111280795343591834226/posts

On Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/EDLISPartiesAndGatherings/permalink/887013161341968/
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We love you Bob!!!!!
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Joan Baez writes about Bob Dylan
Excerpt from the Baez autobiography, And A Voice To Sing With

Baez, Joan. And a Voice to Sing with: A Memoir. New York: Summit Books, 1987, 0671400622

https://www.worldcat.org/title/and-a-voice-to-sing-with-a-memoir/oclc/15427233

The crummy hotel over Washington Square was twelve dollars a night. It had no room service, and a regular clientele of junkies, pushers, transsexuals in transition, young alcoholics, and other dubious New York street riffraff. It made me feel "beat" and made Bob feel quite at home. I bought Bob a big black suit jacket which almost fit. He had been wary, but had also succumbed to a white shirt and -the crowning glory-a pair of cuff links made out of lumpy, opaque, violet rocks. I was falling in love.

We sat in our room being interviewed about our respective careers. Maybe that afternoon was the closest I ever felt to Bob: his eyes were as old as God, and he was fragile as a winter leaf. He was a Sunday child, fidgeting there on the couch in an oversized jacket and new cuff links, and I was Mom. But I was also sister mystic and fellow outlaw, queen to his jack, and a twin underground star. We were living out a myth, slumming it together in the Village. We walked around the windy streets and had afternoon breakfast on MacDougal Street. Our breath came out white clouds, mingled, and hung in the air ... and speaking strictly for me, we both could have died then and there.

Bob spoke bad English in quick startling images, and most of what he saw was for his eyes only. The thoughts he shared were usually unfinished. Years before, when walking in the woods in Massachusetts, I came upon a woman perched on a stool, 'drawing furiously on a big art pad which she clutched with her other hand in her lap. She looked up occasionally and scrutinized the trees. I greeted her, and peered for a while at her creation. The page was filled with goblins, monsters, snakes, Goya-esque eyes shaped like nooses. Unable to restrain myself, I asked the idiotic question, 'What are you drawing?" She glanced up and said pleasantly, indicating the trees with a wave of her hand, "Oh, just what I see," I imagined Bob's most moderate fantasies to be a lunatic psychedelia, racing at astrospeed.

He was rarely tender, and seldom reached out to anticipate another's needs, though occasionally he would exhibit a sudden concern for another outlaw, hitchhiker, or bum, and go out of his way to see them looked after. He was touching and infinitely fragile. His indescribably white hands moved constantly: putting a cigarette almost to his mouth, then tugging relentlessly at a tuft of hair at his neck, inadvertently dumping the cigarette ashes in dusty cavalcades down his jacket. He would stand thinking, his mouth working, his knees flexing one at a time, right, left, right, left. He seemed to function from the center of his own thoughts and images, and like a madman he was swallowed up by them.

His humor was dry, private, and splendid. Sometimes he would start to chuckle. A little at a time, his lips would move from a genuine smile to a pucker. Then, instantly, he would tighten them back in, until a tiny convulsion of laughter would bring them back to the smile, and sometimes, a full grin followed by laughter. I was always flattered when he would share one of his bizarre images with me, or ask me what a line in a song meant. If I guessed right, he would say, "How the fuck did you know?  Once, at his request and for his amusement, I told him my interpretation of a whole song. He seemed impressed. Then he said, "You know, when I drop dead, people are gonna interpret the shit outta my songs. They're gonna interpret every fuckin' comma. They don't know what the songs mean. Shit, I don't know what they mean."

There were times to come when we would sing together, laugh and horse around, get crazy, talk, go to movies, ride motorcycles, sleep. But never again, after that day in the Village, would I feel the naturalness of just being with him, and understanding, for awhile, that nothing we did or said to each other had to be second-guessed or guarded. From that day forward, it was as though we moved slowly out of the eye of the hurricane into the turbulence, the wind knocking his hand away from mine at the first step.

Bobby invited me, Mimi, and her husband, Dick Farina, to housesit Albert Grossman's, in Woodstock, New York. Dick and Bob were writing, Mimi was singing and being a wife, and I was hanging out between tours. Bob had a 350 Triumph motorcycle which I rode around in the woods and on the back roads, sometimes with him on the back. Most of the month or so we were there, Bob stood at the typewriter in the corner of his room, drinking red wine and smoking and tapping away relentlessly for hours. And in the dead of night, he would wake up, grunt, grab a cigarette, and stumble over to the typewriter again. He was turning out songs like ticker tape, and I was stealing them as fast as he wrote them.

In the coolness of selective recall I never would have betrayed my gushing enthusiasm for the time spent with Bobby in Woodstock. I found it here in a letter home, along with an interesting addendum.

Summer, 1964

Dear Mummy-

Better not let the old man see this-Bobby Dylan wrote it. I've gotten very close to Bobby in the last month. We have such FUN! Wow and he takes baths and everything. Anyway I said "I think I'll write Mummy today" and he jumped up in the air and said he wanted to write it as though it was from me and made me promise I'd sign it. It's a little lewd-he giggled over it for an hour. He is beautiful to me. He bought me a beautiful coat and a dress and earrings, and he's just a joy to be with. We understand each other's need for freedom and there are no chains, just good feelings and giggles and a lot of love. And I enjoy his genius.

The record is done, and should be out in a month, and so should the book. I'm going home alone. It's been fun all this trip, most of the time has been spent with Bobby, but I want to be alone again for a while, and start spending time with Ira. My house is supposed to be finished when I get home. I'm gonna meet the Beatles in Denver. I just adore them, then home on a train. It will be good to be alone. Bobby is a very good business man, and he's given me the name of a business advisor in L.A. to help me out with all my damned lawyers, managers, etc. They need to be pushed. Bobby has his things amazingly well taken care of. You'd never guess it. He's just smart. Everything is cool. Mimi and Dick aren't too cool, but it comes and goes. I think Bobby will come out and stay with me for a while if my house is done, but he has a tour starting Sept. 8. You would be pleased to see what fun we have together. I really love him.

Love
Love
Love-Joanie

on the 21st

sometime

dear mummy

it's me here. I'm up in woodstock at uncle alby's. nice house you oughta be here. swimming pool. all that stuff. i'm with youknow who. dick an mimi're also round the place but i've hardly seen them sinse you-know-who got a hold on me. mummy you must believe me. i was gonna stay at the foremans as planned i mean i was all set to an everything. anyway when me an mimi got t town right away first thing we did was t go there. an you know me i was tired and it was already past noon an well i fuigureed like t get t sleep you know an well i got in t bed y'know an jesus i pulled back the blankets an who do you think was hiding under the quilt? yeah him. i mean like i dont know if you'll believe me or not but i swear t gawd he was rolled up I like a ball inside the pillow. mummy, i shit. the first thing i did was t call for mimi.

mimi came running down the hall but do you think it did anygood? you-know-who just slowly stood up an jumped on the floor. mummy, his hair had grown down past his waist. he was wearing this monster sweater that stank like he hadn't taken a bath for a year. mummy, he was terrible. i mean like even alfredo the cuban was heard t comment later, "ay tairdbil" (aye, que terrible) anyway, mimi saw him there an she turned an ran. mummy, she just turned an ran. you"know-who didnt waste any time let me tell yuh. he threw me on the bed like some kind of caveman. (he hadnt shaved for about four days mummy. honest t gawd. four days!) an you know how tired i get. i mean like i was in no position t fight. an he wa sayin something. he was sayin like i never heard before. i mean like i never heard it in any movie. i mean like he was sayin "hey c'mon hey c'mon" over an over again. hey an you know me like i just fall like an anvil. clunge. when it comes t new things that i aint never heard before. i mean like i dont want you t think he's (you-know who) influenced me or nuthin mummy i just fall into all these traps. maybe that second shrink was right. maybe i DONT know myself as i should know myself. maybe he was right when he said "Joannie darling, you just dont know yourself" anyway, you*know- who, for lack of better word, just about seized me. it wasnt like any captain kid came swirling down from the masttype thing but still it was kind of wierd. i mean he really did sort of take me by surprise. i mean like what would you do? i mean i fought an everythin. mummy i fought him no end. i bit the shit out of his nose. kicked him where it really hurts. clawed the back of his neck till blood came out a his bellybutton. mummy, i blew so hard in his ear, i thought his eyes would pop out. but then he did this dumb thing. i mean like he was still sayin "hey c'mon, c'mon" but then also too now he started reciting poetry. like it was about the time i was scratching an trying t bend his elbow off he started calling me ramona. i swear at first i thought it was some game. he kept sayin things like "no use tryin" an words like "exist" an mummy i swear he even mentioned something about crack country lips. mummy, i couldnt fight. i mean like i just couldnt fight. yeah like so i passed out. yeah an i woke up here. aint played a concert for a month. manny is calling perpetually. victor keeps answering the phone an says "no, she's not here" in a funny voice an you*know-who doesnt say nothin excpt "everything's all right" an "nuthin matters" yeah well i gotta go. you-know who's making this movie an he wants me t rub his head while he gets ready. all in all everything i guess is ok. house is coming along. oh, i signed over my car t you- nowwho. yeah, he said it'd take a lot of worry off my mind about owning things an well it has a little i guess. i wouldn't mind that too much but well you-know-who sold the car. he says that's better that way cause now i wont be pesterin him t let me drive it. mummy, he's the worst driver in the world. i swear i nearly have a bird everytime he takes me t the shrink. my shrink hates him but that's another story an i'll write you later about it.

ok then faretheewell
manard solomon says hello
an keeps asking when you're
coming back
ok 'bye
an dont worry bout me none

oh, p.p.s
i gave that little tiny picture of me
t you-know-who an he posted it on top
of his ford station wagon interior

mummy, i'm fine.
dont worry about me please
everything passes everything changes
oh, mummy mummy I love you so much
ohmummy
give regards t brice an pauline

oh oh! here comes you-know-who
i dont want him t catch me writing
tyou
gotta go
luv yuh
Joanie

Bob had the kind of charisma which never really allowed him privacy. Everyone wanted to be the one to get under his skin, to say the clever thing which would make him laugh, to somehow score a point so later on they could think back to that moment and feel special. Even though I had a proximity to him, and had a coveted position in the growing world of Dylan fans, I felt the same way. He held us all at a distance except for rare moments, which we all sought.

Although I wished to be the one person who wouldn't clutch at Bob, I was ferocious in my possessiveness. One evening at the restaurant with Mimi and Dick, some other friends, and me, Bob caught the eye of a recently arrived pilgrim sitting across the room staring imploringly at our table. As Bob returned her stare, Mimi and I began to cluck like two angry old hens, commenting snidely on the poor girl's pallor, miserable and slightly crazed expression, and stereotypical rags and tatters. I knew that Bob gorged when he got drunk, so I filled his glass over and over until his wandering eyes were red and bleary, and then offered him dessert. As soon as he had finished one dessert, I would shove another one under his chin, and he would poke at it, looking kind of forlorn, as though he wished it would go away, and then he'd eat it, washing it down with more wine and coffee. Finally, the girl, responding to Bob's more and more frequent stares, floated across the room and landed unceremoniously at the table, sinking clumsily into a chair, her eyes riveted upon him. He was drunk, flattered, disgusting, and rude.

My fury was twofold. Fifty percent was jealousy of Bob's attention to the girl, the other of her attention to him: the outrage of seeing a look of adoration which was usually reserved for me, now bestowed upon the drunken sot sitting next to me. I went to the ladies' room and fumed, Mimi blew up at Bob, and the next thing I remember was waiting out in the alley for Bob to come find me and say something wonderful like, ''I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. How could I have been such an idiot when all I really want to do is be with you." Instead, he just kept repeating that his stomach was killing him, and what- all had he eaten, for Chrissake. I told him what he'd eaten, and then began to feel sorry for him, he looked so miserable with his stomach hard as a rock and bulging under his T-shirt. So finally I drove him home, certain at every curb that he would throw up two custard pies and a pecan fudge cake before we could get to a tree. But instead, he fell asleep and snored, and I had to wake him up and practically carry him to bed, where he fell immediately back into what looked very much like a guiltless slumber.

-- Joan Baez, And A Voice To Sing With, p 85-86
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I think She was in a vulnerable place and time. Her being an artist and a professional contributed to the condition of the article. She possibly felt impressed to leave them in a first take presentation was best!
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Bringing It All Back Home

Collaborative research has led to the creation of one of the most thorough online collections of information about the cover of  Bringing It All Back Home (1965). 

http://biabhcoverposers.yolasite.com/

Originally compiled on Facebook in EDLIS Café, this information has now been gathered into one website.

But it is not yet complete!

There are still a few unanswered questions eluding the researchers. Could you be the person to provide the pieces of the puzzle? 
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Cool site. Fun for dylanologists. 
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Bob Dylan was a special guest at this Joan Baez concert.

Monterey Fairgrounds
Monterey, California
4 September 1964

http://www.bjorner.com/DSN00630%20(64).htm#DSN00742

Bob Dylan and Joan Baez (guitar and vocal).

This was a benefit concert for Pioneer House, a new inter-racial, non-profit nursery school in Seaside.
No set-list known.

Photographs - taken from the Monterey Herald and Robert Crispin. 
.
 
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These images are all gems, two young folk icons together in love. I believe these are the pictures that you could buy directly from the Monterey Herald at one time. I meant to do it, but never got around to it. I wonder whether they're still available.
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Bob Dylan Revisited

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PodOmatic episode of The Chill Room.

Focus on The Rolling Thunder Revue, Renaldo and Clara, and associated influences:

"Audio materials used in construction of this program: 3 July 1975, tape at the Other End, NYC / 28 July-2 August 1975 basic studio recordings for Desire at Columbia Studios NYC (Hurricane re-recorded in October) / 10 September 1975, John Hammond tribute at WTTW-PBS, Chicago, aired 13 December 1975 / October-December, filming of Renaldo & Clara on Rolling Thunder tour, performances at the Other End and Gerde's Folk City in NYC, rehearsals at North Falmouth in Massachusetts and Niagara Falls in NY (where much of the non-concert music for the film was recorded) and Rolling Thunder shows filmed at Plymouth MA, Lowell MA, Providence RI, Springfield MA, Worcester MA, Cambridge MA, Boston MA, and Montreal, Quebec / 23 May 1976 at Colorado State University in Fort Collins (the Hard Rain tv special) / 1996 Noriaa Japanese bootleg CD of stereo film soundtrack.

"Voices heard include Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Allen Ginsberg, Sara Dylan, David Blue, Bob Neuwirth, Roger McGuinn. Dylan's backing band was called Guam and included Rob Stoner, bass, vocals and leader; Scarlet Rivera, violin; T Bone Burnett, guitar, piano; Howie Wyeth, drums; David Mansfield, dobro, mandolin and steel guitar; Mick Ronson, electric guitar; Steven Soles, guitar, vocals. Additional music by Gordon Lightfoot, Roger McGuinn and Joan Baez. Stage direction for Rolling Thunder Revue was by Jacques Levy. Howard Alk was Bob Dylan's adviser and assistant in making Renaldo & Clara.

"Set list (contains dialogs as well as music): All musical performances by Bob Dylan unless otherwise noted. When I Paint My Masterpiece (with Bob Neuwirth) / Guitar seduction / Allen Ginsberg and children / Gordon Lightfoot-Ballad in Plain D / Abandoned Love / People Get Ready / Oh Sister / unidentified voices-Black Girl / David Blue on Blowin' in the Wind / Blowin' in the Wind (with Joan Baez) / One More Cup of Coffee / Kaw-Liga / Allen Ginsberg-Nurse's Song / Hurricane (first version, with Emmylou Harris) / What Will You Do When Jesus Comes? / Anne Waldman-Fast Speaking Woman / It Ain't Me Babe / I Want You / Allen Ginsberg-Kaddish / Joan Baez-Diamonds & Rust / She Belongs to Me (with Allen Ginsberg reciting Kaddish) / Golden Loom / Rita Mae / Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands / Roger McGuinn-Chestnut Mare / Never Let Me Go (with Joan Baez) / Allen Ginsberg-Kaddish and piano / If You See Her Say Hello / Patty's Gone to Laredo / Tangled Up in Blue / Sara / Idiot Wind / Hal Frazier-In the Morning of My Life."
===
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It is fantastic - thanks +Aaron Young :-) 
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March On Washington For Jobs and Freedom

Photograph: Peter Yarrow, right, with Bob Dylan, centre, during the 1963 civil rights march on Washington, Wednesday August 28, 1963. 

Video - Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, March On Washington For Jobs And Freedom: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLwHnNybADo

Wikipedia:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/March_on_Washington_for_Jobs_and_Freedom

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+EDLIS Café I read up, meant to come back with info, but you nailed it, it's all nasty stuff!
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Bob Dylan and the Band at Madison Square Garden, January 31, 1974, 4pm show.

Photograph by Ed Spenser. 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/127634200@N05/16984894117/in/photolist-rSU2h2-pxBbeT/

Fan memory: 

http://musiccitymike.net/2014/02/22/classic-concert-bob-dylan-the-band-madison-square-garden-new-york-ny-january-31-1974-400pm/

"Outside of the intensity and brilliance of the performance, I have two memories from this show. First is the surprise of seeing Dylan do the arena rock encore thing by playing his biggest hit, “Blowing in the Wind,” while the lighted disco mirror ball spun. The other is when the continued applause brought him back to the stage:  He was wearing a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey jersey and uttered his only words of the night, “See you next year!” His long absence from the stage surely had everyone doubting his words. Who would have thought back then that he would eventually travel incessantly on what has been called the “Never-Ending Tour?”"

Number 9 for the Leafs that season was centre Norm Ullman. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norm_Ullman
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I was fortunate enough to get a ticket for the evening show. Electrifying, powerful performance rocked The Garden that memorable night.
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Ramblin' Jack Elliott and John Prine on the 'Bobby Bare and Friends' TV show back in 1985.

The whole show is fantastic, and the interviews mention snippets about Bob Dylan several times.

John Prine tells about how he ended up buying his first Dylan record, and there is a nice anecdote from Jack remembering a time when he and Bob Dylan were shown an 'after hours' bar in Greenwich Village and includes the tell-tale line:

"And some stranger, perfect stranger, who probably didn't know who Bob was, and so Bob was very comfortable with him...".

John Prine's brief memory is at 22:20, and the full anecdote from Jack starts at about 41:43 for those who lack time or attention to kick back with a favourite coffee and enjoy the whole experience. ;-)

https://youtu.be/iI9AfsIsu4E
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What a super interview.  Thank you.
Tom
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Victor Maymudes and Bob Dylan 1964

Woodstock, N.Y.
Photograph credit Edward A. Chavez.

http://www.bookart.com/chavez_essay.html

"During the 1960’s, in Woodstock, where recording artist Bob Dylan had retreated to shield himself from the rigors of world fame, the singer-poet would drop by to chat with Chávez or sit wordlessly to watch the artist at work for hours at a time. There was a lot to learn from this neatly-attired man of dignified bearing; this self-assured channel of creation. Where many artists took art to be a vocation, in itself an enormously demanding dedication, Ed Chávez understood art as self-definition. It was a realization which could not be compromised or altered any more than he could have changed the date and place of his birth."

www.edlis.org/car
.
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