Home PageBringing it all back home (1965)

Bringing It All Back Home (1965)

  1. Subterranean Homesick Blues
  2. She Belongs To Me
  3. Maggie’s Farm
  4. Love Minus Zero/No Limit
  5. Outlaw Blues
  6. On The Road Again
  7. Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream
  8. Tambourine Man
  9. Gates Of Eden
  10. It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)
  11. It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue

 

Recorded  January 13 to 15, 1965
Released  March 22, 1965
Playing Time  41:29
Produced by  Tom Wilson
Engineered by  Hallie and Dauria

Bob Dylan –  Vocals, Guitar, Harmonica, Piano / John Boone – Bass / John Hammond Jr – Guitar  / Al Gorgoni – Guitar  / Bobby Gregg – Drums / Paul Griffin – Keyboards  / J Bruce Langhorne – Guitar  / Bill Lee – Bass  / Joe Macho – Bass  / Frank Owens – Piano  / Kenny Rankin –  Guitar  / John Sebastian – Bass

Liner Notes

i’m standing there watching the parade/ feeling combination of sleepy john estes. jayne mansfield. humphry bogart/morti- mer snerd. murph the surf and so forth/ erotic hitchhiker wearing japanese blanket. gets my attention by asking didn’t he see me at this hootenanny down in puerto vallarta, mexico/i say no you must be mistaken. i happen to be one of the Supremes/then he rips off his blanket an’ suddenly becomes a middle-aged druggist. up for district attorney. he starts scream- ing at me you’re the one. you’re the one that’s been causing all them riots over in vietnam. immediately turns t’ a bunch of people an’ says if elected, he’ll have me electrocuted publicly on the next fourth of july. i look around an’ all these people he’s talking to are carrying blowtorches/ needless t’ say, i split fast go back t’ the nice quiet country. am standing there writing WHAAT? on my favorite wall when who should pass by in a jet plane but my recording engineer “i’m here t’ pick up you and your lastest works of art. do you need any help with anything?”
(pause)
my songs’re written with the kettledrum in mind/a touch of any anxious color. un- mentionable. obvious. an’ people perhaps like a soft brazilian singer . . . i have given up at making any attempt at perfection/ the fact that the white house is filled with leaders that’ve never been t’ the apollo theater amazes me. why allen ginsberg was not chosen t’ read poetry at the inauguration boggles my mind/if someone thinks norman mailer is more important than hank williams that’s fine. i have no arguments an’ i never drink milk. i would rather model har- monica holders than discuss aztec anthropology/ english literature. or history of the united nations. i accept chaos. I am not sure whether it accepts me. i know there’re some people terrified of the bomb. but there are other people terrified t’ be seen carrying a modern screen magazine. experience teaches that silence terrifies people the most . . . i am convinced that all souls have some superior t’ deal with/like the school system, an invisible circle of which no one can think without consulting someone/in the face of this, responsibility/security, success mean absolutely nothing. . . i would not want t’ be bach. mozart. tolstoy. joe hill. gertrude stein or james dean/they are all dead. the Great books’ve been written. the Great sayings have all been said/I am about t’ sketch You a picture of what goes on around here some- times. though I don’t understand too well myself what’s really happening. i do know that we’re all gonna die someday an’ that no death has ever stopped the world. my poems are written in a rhythm of unpoetic distortion/ divided by pierced ears. false eyelashes/sub- tracted by people constantly torturing each other. with a melodic purring line of descriptive hollowness — seen at times through dark sunglasses an’ other forms of psychic explosion. a song is anything that can walk by itself/i am called a songwriter. a poem is a naked person . . . some people say that i am a poet
(end of pause)
an’ so i answer my recording engineer “yes. well i could use some help in getting this wall in the plane”
— By Bob Dylan