Bob Dylan Desolation Row, ΑΝΤΙΡΑΤΣΙΣΤΙΚO ΤΡΑΓΟΥΔΙ

Η ποιητική γεωγραφία του Μπομπ Ντίλαν,

 ΠΗΓΗ....http://www.enet.gr/?i=news.el.article&id=164808

Του ΣΤΕΛΙΟΥ ΕΛΛΗΝΙΑΔΗ

Ότι και να πεις για τον Μπομπ Ντίλαν, δεν τον εξαντλείς. Χιλιάδες άρθρα, βιβλία, μελέτες και ταινίες καταπιάνονται εξονυχιστικά με κάθε λεπτομέρεια της ζωής του και αναλύουν κάθε στίχο των τραγουδιών του, χωρίς τελικά να καλύπτουν όλα τα κενά. Ο Ντίλαν έδωσε πολύ υλικό, αλλά λίγες επεξηγήσεις.

Στα νοήματα των τραγουδιών του δεν αναφέρεται σχεδόν ποτέ. Ακόμα και στην αυτοβιογραφία του, άφησε πολλές πτυχές της ζωής του απέξω. Και επειδή πάντα ήταν κλειστός στις κοινωνικές του σχέσεις και εξαιρετικά αλληγορικός στην ποίησή του, οι ειδικοί ακόμα ψάχνονται. Αναφέρεται συχνά σε πρόσωπα, αλλά και σε τόπους που συνδέονται με κάποια ιστορία προσωπική ή έχουν κάποιο συμβολισμό, όχι πάντα ευδιάκριτο. Η Νέα Υόρκη έχει προνομιακή θέση στα τραγούδια του, αλλά φτάνει έως τις πιο ακραίες γωνιές της Αμερικής, χωρίς να λείπουν εντελώς μέρη του εξωτερικού (Ρώμη, Λονδίνο, Τζαμάικα, Ταγγέρη κ.ά.). Το ερχόμενο Σάββατο τον περιμένουμε στο «Terra Vibe» της Μαλακάσας. Εν τω μεταξύ, ας τον ακολουθήσουμε στους αληθινούς και ποιητικούς τόπους των τραγουδιών του:

Στον άυλο κόσμο

Τόνοι μελανιού έχουν χυθεί για το σπουδαίο αλλά τόσο αλληγορικό «Desolation Row» (1965). Είναι κάποιος τόπος έξω απ' τον τόπο όπου συμβαίνουν τα πάμπολλα γεγονότα που αναφέρει ο Ντίλαν; Είναι κάτι σαν την κόλαση όπου συμβαίνουν τρομακτικά πράγματα; Ή είναι απλώς μια κατάσταση του μυαλού στην οποία βρίσκεται ο συγγραφέας και απ' αυτή τη θέση μπαίνει και βγαίνει στον υλικό κόσμο; Έχει σχέση με το «Desolation Angels» του Τζακ Κέρουακ, του συγγραφέα του κινήματος των μπίτνικς με τη μεγαλύτερη επιρροή;

Η αναφορά σ' αυτούς που «πουλάνε καρτποστάλ από το κρέμασμα» (δημοφιλής πρακτική στα λιντσαρίσματα των μαύρων, στον Νότο) και τις ειδικές αστυνομικές δυνάμεις καταστολής που «ανήσυχα θέλουν κάπου να τις στείλουν», πώς κολλάνε με τη χαρτορίχτρα και τον καλό Σαμαρείτη που ετοιμάζεται για το καρναβάλι; Και ο Αϊνστάιν που είναι μεταμφιεσμένος σε Ρόμπιν Χουντ, ποιος είναι; Ή ο «Τιτανικός» που σαλπάρει την αυγή; Τελικά, τι είναι το Desolation Row; Αφετηρία ή τέρμα;

Bob Dylan Desolation Row

They're selling postcards of the hanging

They're painting the passports brown

The beauty parlor is filled with sailors

The circus is in town

Here comes the blind commissioner

They've got him in a trance

One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker

The other is in his pants

And the riot squad they're restless

They need somewhere to go

As Lady and I look out tonight

From Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy

"It takes one to know one," she smiles

And puts her hands in her back pockets

Bette Davis style

And in comes Romeo, he's moaning

"You Belong to Me I Believe"

And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend

You better leave"

And the only sound that's left

After the ambulances go

Is Cinderella sweeping up

On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden

The stars are beginning to hide

The fortunetelling lady

Has even taken all her things inside

All except for Cain and Abel

And the hunchback of Notre Dame

Everybody is making love

Or else expecting rain

And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing

He's getting ready for the show

He's going to the carnival tonight

On Desolation Row

Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window

For her I feel so afraid

On her twenty-second birthday

She already is an old maid

To her, death is quite romantic

She wears an iron vest

Her profession's her religion

Her sin is her lifelessness

And though her eyes are fixed upon

Noah's great rainbow

She spends her time peeking

Into Desolation Row

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood

With his memories in a trunk

Passed this way an hour ago

With his friend, a jealous monk

He looked so immaculately frightful

As he bummed a cigarette

Then he went off sniffing drainpipes

And reciting the alphabet

Now you would not think to look at him

But he was famous long ago

For playing the electric violin

On Desolation Row

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world

Inside of a leather cup

But all his sexless patients

They're trying to blow it up

Now his nurse, some local loser

She's in charge of the cyanide hole

And she also keeps the cards that read

"Have Mercy on His Soul"

They all play on penny whistles

You can hear them blow

If you lean your head out far enough

From Desolation Row

Across the street they've nailed the curtains

They're getting ready for the feast

The Phantom of the Opera

A perfect image of a priest

They're spoonfeeding Casanova

To get him to feel more assured

Then they'll kill him with self-confidence

After poisoning him with words

And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls

"Get Outa Here If You Don't Know

Casanova is just being punished for going

To Desolation Row"

Now at midnight all the agents

And the superhuman crew

Come out and round up everyone

That knows more than they do

Then they bring them to the factory

Where the heart-attack machine

Is strapped across their shoulders

And then the kerosene

Is brought down from the castles

By insurance men who go

Check to see that nobody is escaping

To Desolation Row

Praise be to Nero's Neptune

The Titanic sails at dawn

And everybody's shouting

"Which Side Are You On?"

And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot

Fighting in the captain's tower

While calypso singers laugh at them

And fishermen hold flowers

Between the windows of the sea

Where lovely mermaids flow

And nobody has to think too much

About Desolation Row

Yes, I received your letter yesterday

(About the time the door knob broke)

When you asked how I was doing

Was that some kind of joke?

All these people that you mention

Yes, I know them, they're quite lame

I had to rearrange their faces

And give them all another name

Right now I can't read too good

Don't send me no more letters no

Not unless you mail them

From Desolation Row 

This 10 minute film is a collage of music and imagery set down by two artists who lived 450 years apart in history. The unexpected union of these visionaries was a chance encounter late one night while perusing through an old book of engravings by the Flemish artist, Peter Bruegel the Elder while listening to the song "Desolation Row" by Bob Dylan. In an instant an uncanny collaboration was taking place. The wildly strange visual imagery of Bruegel was illustrating the equally bizarre lyrics of Dylan. They were in tandem. Yet neither medium violated the unique vision of the other. This unusual film captures this creative apparition through the use of marionettes, engravings and music.