Saying that Bob Dylan changed my life is cliché, but there’s a reason for saying it. Art can inspire the kind of awe that reverberates through every particle of your existence. Claiming that Dylan has changed my life is the polite way of saying “I can’t explain the gravity of this artist’s impact on me.”
Thus, Dylan himself was unable to meet a request that he write “a sort of what does Woody Guthrie mean to you in twenty-five words” (Dylan’s own words) for an upending book about Woody Guthrie. “Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie” is the seven-minute result. It is Dylan’s attempt to articulate the inexpressible depth of the bond between a fan and an artist and it’s his acknowledgment of the impossibility of that undertaking.
When I first heard the recording, I was just beginning to fall in love with Bob Dylan. Hearing it felt like having a conversation with a relatively new friend and suddenly realizing that you want to know this person for the rest of your life. I went from fan to devoted fan.
Slam poet Anis Mojgani’s performance at the Underground last Monday started me thinking about “Last Thoughts” again. Mojgani’s recognition has catapulted in part due to the popularity of two of his poems, “Closer” and “Shake the Dust,” both of which he performed at Wooster.” During “Closer,” Mojgani urged us to come into the poem, to deepen the connection between artist and audience. His recitation of “Shake the Dust” was so organic that one could hardly call it a performance; it was more of a revelation. And this is despite the fact that he has spoken those exact same words to countless audiences before.
After debuting a number of new compositions during his 1963 performance at New York City’s Town Hall, Dylan returned to the stage to recite “Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie,” which he has never done since. After circulating on bootleg releases for years, the mercifully recorded track was edited and officially released by Columbia in 1991 for all to enjoy.
On the original, unedited recording, Dylan sounds nervous as he introduces the poem. He makes a sincere attempt to explain the personal significance Guthrie holds for him but stammers until he dives into the actual poem, asking that the audience “roll along with this thing here.” Even without this introduction, the spontaneity of the recording seems to reveal a deeper, more personal look into Dylan’s private room than he is accustomed to sharing with an audience.
The one-time-only recital of “Last Thoughts” lends the recording a legendary quality that is harmonious with Dylan’s legacy of mystery. It’s openness is a unique treat that Dylan has rarely granted. Mojgani’s style, on the other hand, is remarkable in its determination to share the personal disclosures of slam poetry night after night.
And yet, their differences as artists make their similarities all the more interesting. Consider the last lines of “Shake the Dust:” “so when the world knocks at your door/clutch the knob tightly/and open on up/running forward into its widespread greeting arms/with your hands before you/fingertips trembling/though they may be.” And now, the final lines of “Last Thoughts:” “You can touch and twist/And turn two kinds of doorknobs/You can either go to the church of your choice/Or you go to Brooklyn State Hospital/You find God in the church of your choice/You find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital/And though it’s only my opinion/I may be right or wrong/You’ll find them both/In Grand Canyon/Sundown.”
Saying that Bob Dylan changed my life is a cop-out, so I won’t say it. Rather, I’ll just say that listening to “Last Thoughts” feels like what I imagine viewing the Grand Canyon at sundown feels like. If I ever do see it, I’m sure no tribute I could give would do it justice.