Posted in NYC | music on July 1, 2014

Dylan-scribbled notes on 'New Morning' acetate
Dylan

Bob Dylan fans, take note, a treasure trove of never-before-heard early/alternate/unfinished versions of songs from Nashville Skyline, Self Portrait and New Morning were recently discovered via 149 acetates found in a closet at 124 W. Houston St. That building once housed a ground-floor studio where Dylan recorded from 1969 - 1972. The two boxes of acetates was labeled "Old Records" and untouched for 40 years. Record Mecca's Jeff Gold details some of the finds:

We discovered many of the acetates were unreleased versions of songs, in some cases with different overdubs, sometimes without any overdubs, many with different mixes, different edits and in a few cases completely unreleased and unknown versions. There are outtakes too, including electric versions of Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" and "Folsom Prison Blues" recorded during the Self Portrait sessions, and a gospel tinged version of "Tomorrow is Such a Long Time" recorded during the New Morning sessions.

These 149 acetates provide a remarkable look into Dylan's working process at the time. Dylan recorded Nashville Skyline in Nashville; Self Portrait in Nashville and New York and New Morning almost entirely in New York. Dylan's producer at the time, Bob Johnston, worked out of Columbia Records' Nashville studios. These acetates were for the most part cut in Nashville and sent by Johnston to Dylan in New York for his comments and approval.

If you're not sure exactly what an acetate is beyond "some kind of record," Gold explains...

Acetates are individually cut on a lathe in real time, in a process that is basically the reverse of playing a record. A blank aluminum disc coated in lacquer is put on a turntable, and the master tape of a recording is played, the signal of which is sent to a heated needle which cuts a groove into into the revolving disc. Acetates are made so an artist or producer can listen to a recording that is a work-in-progress; they can be played on a regular turntable, but after 20 or 30 plays the sound quality begins to deteriorate.
You can read and see more about the Dylan acetates over at Record Mecca and they have a few for sale as well, including an alternate version of "Nashville Skyline" priced at $7000.
---

      

Comments (105)

Wonder if any of these tracks include more from the Bromberg sessions. Cool find. I am sure Dylan and Columbia have their lawyers lined up already.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 11:39 AM

Good news: we found long lost Dylan acetates! Really crappy news: they're rejects that weren't even "good" enough for three of his lamest albums.

Posted by MK | July 1, 2014 11:39 AM

Amazing how close these came to being thrown in the trash.

Check yer closets people!

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 11:45 AM

lamest? troll

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 11:47 AM

Nashville Skyline is solid.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 11:57 AM

Trying not to feed the troll, but yeah - say what you want about Self Portrait, but calling Nashville Skyline and New Morning lame Dylan albums? Cmon

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:08 PM

The original post city boy.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:11 PM

11:39(1) - Assuming Columbia still own the rights to these specific recordings, this could be a goldmine for them...well, as much of a goldmine as can exist in today's non-purchase music climate that is.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:12 PM

>>Wonder if any of these tracks include more from the Bromberg sessions. Cool find. I am sure Dylan and Columbia have their lawyers lined up already.

the buyer is a former record company exec. and gave digital transfers of everything found to Dylan's "people"

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:13 PM

Self-Portrait is his worst album of the 60-70s, Planet Waves being a close second. Nashville Skyline is an excellent album, no question. I had believed that New Morning was close to being the equal of NS, but I listened to it recently and its really hit or miss. Some great material there, also some pretty subpar stuff.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:16 PM

Can't wait for the inevitable $200+ box set release of this!

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:18 PM

Of the 3 albums mentioned, New Morning's an often overlooked but very good,imo,Bob album. It's the one he wrote & put out after the previous "Self Portrait" album, which was most;y covers, got trashed by critics & sold poorly.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:22 PM

If Fake D runs free
Why can't we?

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:33 PM

Can't wait to illegally download it for free!

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:37 PM

I always liked New Morning more than Nashville Skyline. But I also liked Rubber Soul more than Revolver, Let It Bleed more than Beggar's Banquet, In Rock more than Machine Head and Rocks more than Toys In The Attic.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:46 PM

Cant wait til they find DIIVs acetates

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 12:58 PM

The last Bootleg Series collection was better than the original Self Portrait album.

Nashville Skyline has some great songs but I can't get past that fucking voice he uses for that album.

New Morning is often overlooked as previously mentioned but definitely a solid album.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:01 PM

'Planet Waves'!!! OMG, that album is wonderful! THE MOTHERFUCKING BAND is backing him up. Robbie's guitar playing is sublime. GO take the hummus out of yer ears and list again, fool.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:01 PM

12:46, I'm totally with you on Let it Bleed being way more enjoyable to listen to than BB. Although, Salt of the Earth is glorious. Then again, especially from that period, Keef could do no wrong.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:02 PM

Friends,

Please do not forget ...

Our favorite clown who writes for both Gawker and Pitchfuck is hosting the Riff Raff chat now:

http://gawker.com/riff-raff-rapper-and-troll-extraordinaire-is-here-to-1598581928

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:05 PM

12:58 wins the internet today

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:05 PM

Nashville Skyline is a sucky album. Who knows, maybe there's a stripped down version of it floating around in that collection. That would be promising.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:21 PM

Are we finally going to get evidence that it's not really Dylan singing on Nashville Skyline and it was all an elaborate prank by Dylan? Or do we have to wait for a posthumous reveal?

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:24 PM

Dylan > everybody

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:29 PM

lol, Dylan? Great lyricist. Shitty musician, singer and songwriter.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:36 PM

He teaches us that celebrating bygone eras of NYC is sin, plain and simple.

"Dylan acetates? Quick, throw them in the trash. I have to destroy the kitchen in this apartment to force the rent-stabilized tenants to move out. Turn up the AC, ma."

-Jersey Republican

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:36 PM

Dearest 1:36,

Go treat yourself to a listen of '"Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat. That's all Dylan on guitar.

Thx. Cum again.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:45 PM

1:21, there's a pretty famous bootleg of the sessions that dylan did with cash that's definitely worth tracking down. they do covers of cash songs as well as lots that showed up on nashville skyline.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:57 PM

The one thing a narcissist hates most is to be ignored.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 1:59 PM

1:59, I could not agree with you more. You certainly have won: The Most Obvious Award Given To The Ass Hat That Points Out What We All Know

Congratulations, sweetheart.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:03 PM

^ ha ha ha butthurt Grammar Fag is butthurt LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:04 PM

This is a great find, and I hope that there are some real quality unreleased tunes in there.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:09 PM

B
U
T
T
H
U
R
T

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:09 PM

it's great they found the dylan stuff but i'm more curious about how no one could check a closet for 40 years

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:17 PM

what does post-city mean? the city is still here.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:19 PM

^unlike most of the people posting here

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:23 PM

@1:45 "That's all Dylan on guitar."

Yeah, probably not. If there's one thing Dylan ever did it was relying on way more talented musicians than himself to make his shit songwriting more palatable.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:25 PM

12:13 thanks

1:21 definitely good bootleg (Dylan/Cash). I think Dime has some copies still up there to torrent.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 2:49 PM

I want to hear the last few gems 2:25 has churned out of his fertile musical garden

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:00 PM

2:25pm.

The album, as a whole, features mostly Robbie Robertson on lead guitar. You don't need to take my word for that, as it's fairly well documented. On that particular cut, Robertson doesn't play guitar on it; that's Dylan on Fender Strat throughout the whole song. Sorry to burst your bubble.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:04 PM

2:49, you're most welcome.

3:00, i couldn't agree more with you.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:04 PM

^ lol. What I have or haven't done (or have or haven't achieved musically) has nothing to do with the fact that Dylan was always a shit singer, musician, and songwriter. Try again.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:07 PM

I bet Dylan loves Grimes.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:07 PM

2:25,

You're the most unfortunate type of troll. While I can find amusement in trolls who at least clearly have knowledge about what they speak. You are clearly a fool when it comes to music.

I actually think Robertson & Co., The Band, did their best work when backing Dylan. That's why I think 'Planet Waves' is so great. Yeah, sure, it's not the same rough-and-tumble version of either side; you can find that when they were touring in England in the '60s. But they come together with such fluidity.

It actually reminds me of Dolphy and Mingus. I adore bot of their respective catalogs (Dolphy was a motehrfucker and so was Mingus). But when Dolphy played in one of the many Mingus bands, it took both to a whole new level.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:09 PM

... and 3:07 is clearly in the position to judge Dylan's talent, because of his own immense talent.

Nice try, shitbird.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:10 PM

Yeah, 3:04. Because if there's one thing the music industry's know for it's accurate documentation so someone can be properly credited for their contributions. Haa ha ha!

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:11 PM

Uh oh! Comment novel in full effect! I think 3:09's gettin' upset!

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:13 PM

Apparently 3:10 has trouble reading. You're right though, I am in a position to judge.

So I do. Accurately, I might add.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:16 PM

Oh 3:10pm.

Your naivety is ... it's ... just so ... fucking adorable! Sweetheart, you can look at the logs of who played what on what channel. Research it instead of opening your whore mouth and letting the shit flow.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:18 PM

^ I like how you can't even address the right person. Obviously dealing with a sharp one here!

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:21 PM

"It actually reminds me of Dolphy and Mingus ..."

No it doesn't. You just think no one on BV would know enough about them to call you out on that shit. There is literally no valid comparison between the two pairs.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:22 PM

P U S S Y F I G H T

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:23 PM

LOL fucking foot face can't even address the right post, what a fucking moron

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:24 PM

Flyover Fluffer

Foot Fetish

Grammar (something)

Fake D

Buckeye Shrimper

Cottaging Kielbasa(?)

= dumb as fuck right there

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:27 PM

3:22.

Read what I said, OK? I didn't see their sound reminded me of them. What I spoke of was the similarity of how when the two joined together they became greater than the sum of their parts. It's my opinion. I'm fairly certain I'm entitled to that.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:32 PM

Also, check out the word "literally" again because you just used it incorrectly, darling.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:33 PM

WOAH!

What in the living fuck do we have going on here?! I step away for a couple days, and all hell has busted out.

What about the days when we discussed a Mac Air being typed on too hard? Or, Jonny's Tele anyone?

Time for a treat from The Chef while y'all chill out.

Oh, don't forget free Billys in honor of HummusIsDead day.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:35 PM

these comments seem to be discussing a lot of things that don't equate to music, right? i just couldn't help but notice a lot of people having such negativity towards an album johnny cash recorded with bob dylan. that's interesting. i wonder what you listen to, if you consider that garbage.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:40 PM

I
Can
Haz
A
Closet
Of
Records
That
Won't
Be
Opened
For
Forty
Years?

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:46 PM

^shut the fuck up faggot

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:46 PM

3:46 ftw

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:51 PM

^witch 1 doe

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:52 PM

^#2 duh

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:57 PM

LOL Buckeye Foot Fag is TOTALLY LOSING IT, multiple posts, eyes (and sphincter) twitching, LOLOOLOLOLOLOOOLOLOLOLOLLOLOOL's

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:59 PM

^rite

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 3:59 PM

it puts the lotion on its foot

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:04 PM

or it gets the straw in it's butt

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:06 PM

lit·er·al·ly
ˈlitərəlē,ˈlitrə-/
adverb
adverb: literally

In a literal manner or sense; exactly.

Without question, unquestionably, indisputably

Used for emphasis or to express strong feeling while not being literally true.

Bitch ;-)

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:07 PM

...the trick to effective trolling, my dear Buckeye, is not minding that it hurts. the fact that you had to change "Flyover Fluffer" to "Foot Fetish" speaks to your weakness.

Lesson #1 in troll skool. Their pain is gratification enough, but your pain is always an added bonus if they can achieve it.

Posted by Josh The Fabulous F5er! | July 1, 2014 4:16 PM

I have to admit that "Flyover Fluffer" is one of my trophies. I don't know where that one came from, I just started typing at the angry guy back a few years ago and it came out. Anyway, it really was ahead of its time, since it was custom made for FD/FF/GF

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:21 PM

^ What does GF stand for again? Grammar Fag?

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:23 PM

F ......... F
L ......... L
Y ......... U
O ......... F
V ......... F
E ......... E
R ......... R

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:24 PM

4:23 = affirmative

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:31 PM

This site has some sad, sad fucks on it. If you're gonna troll, at least do it beyond a third-grade vocabulary.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:47 PM

^noe u

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:48 PM

@447
pls xplain

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:49 PM

Enjoy this, fucks.

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills

"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache¥
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll 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 the Grand Canyon
At sundown

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:50 PM

OMG EPIC FAIL TL;DR

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 4:53 PM

Fcuk

Posted by chris | July 1, 2014 5:50 PM

He teaches us to hate all things, because positivity is the tool of fools.

"Dylan's totally a fag, and you are too. Mom, didn't I tell you to get me a soda?"

-Jersey Republican

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 6:21 PM

^ Does it bother you that I can get to you but you can't get to me?


L U L Z


It does, doesn't it?

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 6:23 PM

6:23,

Friend.

You and I have discussed the almighty mistake that is the comma splice, right? I'm certain we have. Pay the fuck attention.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 7:07 PM

^ Ok, I'll take that as a "yes" then.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 7:10 PM

ABOVE ME

That is some rivalry. In the post city the way you settle a dispute is with a POWERPOINT PRESENTATION.

Posted by Mr. Foot Fetish | July 1, 2014 7:14 PM

^ You tried, Buckeye. That's all that counts. At least I'm sure that's what they told you all your life in whatever suburban podunk shithole you call home.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 7:18 PM

I believe the term for "suburban podunk shithole you call home" is what we all like to call around here: flyoverfuckingstate.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 7:34 PM

^ I stand corrected. Thank you, good sir.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 7:37 PM

You're most welcome. And, welcome to The Chef's Grammar Blog. Today's topic will be: July 2014 or How We Celebrated The Death of Hummus

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 8:45 PM

^shut up buckeye

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 9:04 PM

didn't some guy just buy handwritten lyrics to 'like a rolling stone' at sothebys or osmething for 4 million dollars? auction them

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 9:11 PM

they'd be "unknown" today if they'd been known in 1971. these are just 3 of the most trivial pre-Jesus Dylan albums.

the Self Portrait box set of outtakes got released just a year ago but is already back to "unknown" status. it's just not an interesting phase of his career.

Posted by Zim | July 1, 2014 10:30 PM

omg y'all what if he have these songs to RiRi and then she gave them to:

G R I M E S

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 10:53 PM

^omg wud b amazeballz

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 10:59 PM

10:30,

You're slightly off on your assessment on that phase of his recording career. The release of 'The Bootleg Series, Vol. 10: Another Self Portrait (1969-1971)' was a tremendous addition to the mighty Dylan cannon. It was a period that focused on his frustration with being famous. He left the West Village home and took off. Read over the documents from that period, and I feel confident you'll be a Belieber.

xo

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 11:22 PM

dreaming of a wurld where 'grimes tapez' xitz.

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 11:24 PM

^don't say theze thingz 2 me. ull ruin mye dreamz

Posted by Anonymous | July 1, 2014 11:39 PM

sad trolls

Posted by Anonymous | July 2, 2014 12:23 AM

Believe it or not, this thread earlier in the day had rational, thoughtful, civilized posts. Coming back some hours later,
the discussion (using the word loosely) has seriously deteriorated into a freak show, or bizarro world version of the thread. Did everyone get crazy drunk, or did chronic crazies take over the thread?

Posted by Anonymous | July 2, 2014 1:05 AM

@12:23/1:05 Nothing hurts more than being revealed for what you really are: a fool. Trolling is ultimate truth. You're a miracle microscopic speck in the universe on a path heading towards certain death ...yet you let me take a moment from you that you'll never get back?

I do Gods work. I'm an angel sent through the eons to free you from yourselves.

Faggots.

Posted by Josh The Fabulous F5er! | July 2, 2014 1:08 AM

It`s official. Luxly is Cormac McCarthy.

Posted by Anonymous | July 2, 2014 1:18 AM

"The only thing that burns in Hell is the part of you that won't let go of life, your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away. But they're not punishing you. They're freeing your soul. So, if you're frightened of dying and... and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. But if you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels, freeing you from the earth."

Posted by Anonymous | July 2, 2014 2:54 AM

1:45/3:04, "A satisfactory take of "Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat" was finally achieved in the early hours of March 10, 1966 by Dylan along with Kenny Buttrey, Henry Strzelecki on bass, and the Hawks' Robbie Robertson on lead guitar (though Dylan himself plays lead guitar on the song's opening 12 bars"
Sorry to burst your bubble

Posted by Anonymous | July 2, 2014 9:44 AM

You people need a life, Dylan can help you find one if you listened.

Posted by Anonymous | July 2, 2014 4:57 PM

The mental state of music fans in 2014. Wow.

Posted by Anonymous | July 2, 2014 6:56 PM

Leave a Comment