‘Don’t Look Back’

I remember when Bob Dylan was just some old guy that my dad listened to. I remember staring at his photo on the inside of a mid-90s cassette tape. It was a strange photo; Dylan’s face was wrinkled and he sported a odd little moustache; his voice was raspy, his lyrics confusing. My dad played the tapes in the car and I hated it.

It was perhaps my least proud moment as a music listener. At the time, I would have much preferred the top-40 hits on the radio. Hoping for a little “Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio or “How Bizarre” by OMC. My dad would roll his eyes and compromise. We’d spend half the time listening to the radio and half to Dylan.

Dylan’s music was so old, it sounded old, and he was old. And compared to Coolio-he was not definitely not cool.

I came to appreciate Dylan slightly more when I moved to New York City. A few Dylan classics had ended up on a mix cd that I listened to from time to time.

But, it wasn’t until I saw D.A. Pennebaker’s “Don’t Look Back” that I got it. Hailed as the first “Rockumentary,” “Don’t Look Back” follows a 23-year-old Dylan on his 1965 three-week tour of England. Dylan is young, good looking, and constantly in sunglasses as he handles idiotic reporters and thousands of screaming fans. He plays songs effortlessly and his performances have an amazing energy. He’s on his way to the top of the world. Now here was someone I could relate to. It was, I realized, the Dylan that my dad had been remembering as we listened in the car.

During my junior year at NYU, Pennebaker came to speak in a documentary class that I was taking. He spoke of his time with Dylan. How exciting it was just to be around him.

“He drew everyone to him,” he explained to the room of wide-eyed film students all frantically writing down everything he said?hoping to catch some of Dylan’s energy flowing through the room.

He told us that after Dylan’s first viewing of the film, he hated it. He felt completely exposed and was not quite ready for the world to see this very intimate portrait of him.

In the film, Dylan is shown fumbling around backstage, and becoming frustrated with the reporters and his entourage.

Dylan demanded to screen the film again and sat in the front row with a notebook. When the screening was over, Pennebaker expected Dylan to demand many changes. But on a second viewing, Dylan had a new perspective.

“It was as if he realized that it simply made him more elusive. That no one would be able to tell if he was playing a character or being himself,” Pennebaker said.

Dylan’s persona would become something that was constantly shifting; he seemed not to care what anyone thought of him.

Headlining the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 after two years as the festival’s up-and-coming star, he showed up in a leather jacket with an electric guitar and played for 15 minutes. People were shocked and angry. Dylan seemed to care less. He had moved beyond his acoustic guitar.

This Friday at Bethel Woods, he will perform 15 minutes away from my house. Never did I imagine that happening. Six of my friends and I are coming up for the show.

I’ve seen him before, a few years ago. It was a good show, but not the way I like to think of him looking, or sounding. He was stiff, and hardly spoke a word to the crowd. But his energy was there and he held me captivated as he played through his set. He was halfway through “Mr. Tambourine Man” before I recognized it. Everything sounded different; his songs were alive and distinctive but strangely recognizable and familiar.

It is interesting to think that everything that I found standoffish at first, on a closer examination, is part of what I have come to love about him. He’s constantly changing and pushing the limit. And that, I’ve come to realize, is the coolest thing that I can think of.

Whether you make it to the show or not, and I suggest you do, you can count on one thing: he won’t care.

- Zachary Stuart-Pontier