“I don’t have the answer.”įew creative people can manage the painful honesty that Dylan did. Bono recently asked, “Why have the most prolific imaginations ceased to be when they don’t in literature, and they don’t in film, and they don’t in painting, and they don’t in poetry? What’s that about?” He sighed. As Sick Boy succinctly phrased it in Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting, “At one time, you’ve got it, and then you lose it, and it’s gone for ever.” Why you lose your songwriting gift, however, is as mysterious as how you get it in the first place.
For several terrible months, perhaps the greatest songwriting talent of his generation felt in his bones that he had been exiled from himself with no way home.Įvery music fan knows that creative stagnation is a common fate.
The bleakness of Dylan’s account in Chronicles is relentless and unqualified.
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