dinner is foreplay for city folk
dinner

Friday, June 12, 2009

Bob Dylan/Together Through Life/April 28, 2009/Columbia Records

by Aleister

At some point- damned if I know where- Bob Dylan became a character in his own music. On Modern Times, he was a gambler, a hobo, a miner, sailor, and a million other illustrations of Americana along the way- and he was drunk the entire time.

Together Through Life contains twice as much fiction and three times as much booze. The characters which somehow make up Dylan's psyche are all here, having a party that everyone's invited to- he's a drunken blues-man putting on some kind of revue on “My Wife's Home Town,” (which is “Hell,” by the way); he's a former sharp-shooter in “If You Ever Go to Houston,” and he even manages to sound like an old, rich pervert trying to take home a 17-year old girl in “Shake Shake Mama.” Only once on the album does Dylan really sound like he's not playing a part- the sardonic closer “It's All Good,” where he growls the title phrase of the song- and I can't tell if he's serious, sarcastic, or completely disgusted. Vagueness is one of Dylan's fortes.

Dylan's music has always been filled with characters, so the thing that makes Life so different from Modern Times lies in sound and attitude. Life is much less serious than anything Dylan's recorded since his renaissance began (in '97, with Time Out of Mind). Some of the bluesiest songs contain unpolished music, rough around the edges, like it was recorded on a runaway train barreling through a tunnel after two rehearsals (“Beyond Here Lies Nothin',” “My Wife's Home Town,” “Jolene”), but that's the point. And the lyrics on those songs only sound like throwaway lyrics. Blues is, ultimately, music about gut feeling, and Dylan's got it here in excess- the slut that charmed away his money on Modern Times has come back, beat him up, killed his dog, and burned his house down. And he turns it all into a sub-melodic growl that sounds like its coming from the dead love-child of Vincent Price and James Earl Jones.

Dylan's been singing blues for years (listen to Blonde on Blonde, from '66, if you doubt me), but its been refined so much along the way that now, finally, the man is a blues artist, more than he's even been before. And thank the gods that he and his fans seem to have accepted it, because the last decade has seen not only a renaissance for Dylan, but a complete resurgence (remember that Modern Times held the number one spot on Billboard for a time); after nearly 50 years, Bob Dylan remains one of the finest songwriters in the world.

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Do You Want Fries With That?

By Max Gold, Age 13

There’s a quiet little town, in a world, on about a 78 degrees angle from Venus, about 2389329 miles away from Venus, full of really, really, really fat people. These people loved to eat; they would eat everything, from liver to asparagus, from chocolate to Sticky Cheese, and from Jelly to Jam. Now these people were happy people and no one ever put them down.

Outside Earth, there’s this gigantic space ship. This space ship looks exactly like a hamburger, with seeds every few yards and all. Their salt and pepper guns were loaded, and ready to hit this planet full of fat people (although they the McDonaldians didn‘t know they were fat.) The King Grilled Chicken stood up on the ice cream cone pillar, ready to make a speech.

“Hello My fellow McDonaldians” The King Grilled Chicken said. “Today we march down to earth, and we fight to death!” he screamed.

This got much applause, especially from a Chicken nugget, named Crispy Gangsta. “Yeah let’s show dem homies we gunna pop a soda cap up their-” But he was cut off when the king threw a ketchup packet at him. “Shut it. Now unleash all flamin’ hot sauce!” The King screamed.

Down on Earth all the fat people were having a “we-ate-ten-thousand-pieces-of-chicken-day.” Now as we all know that’s a huge celebration, everyone who’s anyone goes there.

Then, out of nowhere, it started raining salt and pepper. Then the sound of hamburgers the size of pillows ringed in everyone ears. Then… a giant pillow sized hamburger flew down from the sky. It was Crispy Gangsta ready for action.

Unfortunately a boy named Chungy saw Crispy’s ship and got over excited. He ran at the hamburger full force, and swallowed Crispy Gangsta whole. Then he tore that hamburger down and ate the entire thing in five seconds, and wanted more. Then the rest of the space ships came down. In half an hour not one scrap of food was left. Except the mother ship which had landed.

“I come to you humans in peace and hope we can make a fair agreement, and-” but he got cut off when Chungy got a little too hungry. He swallowed the king in one gulp. The poor McDonaldians had no idea what was coming… But the voluptuous folk on the ground sure got a lot of fun out of eating the mother ship.

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