Macchars don’t wear sweaters

"Tambourine Man" by Bob Dylan

Posted on: February 20, 2007

He looked something between a gawky teenager and a gnarled old man. Disheveled mop of hair rising awkwardly over his head, skin drawn tightly across his bony skull whose lines betrayed a strain much beyond its years, frail of frame, coat a little too tight and trousers a little too baggy, deep-set restless eyes which never seemed to focus. An unkemptness even self conscious, almost comical, like the Tramp.

But his words, words enmeshed with the uncomplicated rhythm of his guitar, tempered with clumsy intermittent wails of his harmonica, words rendered in a peculiar high pitched rasp which somehow strikes you as the Voice of Wisdom. Words not speaking of matters of the day, or even everyday matters – not about cars, houses, jobs, wars, injustice. Words not even lauding the beauty of love or expressing the pain of heartbreak. Words speaking of the timeless, of the Self, the self in relation to Nature perhaps. Words expressing a mood, a mood of passiveness, of utter resignation. Of a spirit so weary, yet running asunder, unshackled, on the plane of imagination.

The greatest song of all times – some say. 

Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come following’ you.

When I hear “Tambourine Man” I see a fiddler in an ancient village, dancing and playing on a timeless sunny day making you want to lie on a bale of hay, staring at the clear blue sky, letting your thoughts float free.

Though I know that evening’s empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming.

Weary…so weary.  “Evenings empire has returned into sand” – a sand castle washed away by the lapping waves perhaps?

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wandering’
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.

Ever felt like your hands don’t have the energy to grip?

Though you might hear laughing’, spinning’ swinging’ madly across
the sun
It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escaping’ on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facing’
And if you hear vague traces of skipping’ reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn’t pay it any mind, it’s just a shadow you’re
Seeing that he’s chasing..

Laughing, spinning, swinging madly……..

Then take me disappearing’ through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow

What better description of sorrow than “twisted”

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

What better expression of freedom of the soul, of weightlessness.


4 Responses to ""Tambourine Man" by Bob Dylan"

ur writing is getting better by the post! 🙂 heard marley? ppl who like dylan generally like marley 2.

tooooooo goood. the blog shows the sensitivity u hv developed over a period of time. Dude, High time u shd get into professional blogging. I loved it. keep up the gud work

well to be a lyricist he’s awesome..but as a singer? come on!

(anticipates reaction)

shirey! before he completely lost it..during his early days….i rather like him as a singer too

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