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slewan
there are much better recordings, for example: [www.youtube.com]
Bob's advatage is that he had two great guitarists in his band. Neither of the too lazy or too drunk to play…
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Hairball
Hmmm...I guess you had to be there....wait...I was!
At the Wiltern in 2002 (3 consecutive nights), and it was great!
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24FPSQuote
Hairball
Hmmm...I guess you had to be there....wait...I was!
At the Wiltern in 2002 (3 consecutive nights), and it was great!
Yes it was. That band was tight.
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Cristiano Radtke
What other group ever wrote a song like “19th Nervous Breakdown,” or “Mother’s Little Helper”?
Well, Bob Dylan.
That’s not really the same thing.
Dylan once said, “I could have written ‘Satisfaction’ but you couldn’t have written ‘Tamborine Man.'”
He said that to you?
No, to Keith.
What did he mean? He wasn’t putting you down was he?
Oh yeah, of course he was. But that was just funny, it was great. That’s what he’s like. It’s true but I’d like to hear Bob Dylan sing “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.”
[www.rollingstone.com]
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Cristiano Radtke
What other group ever wrote a song like “19th Nervous Breakdown,” or “Mother’s Little Helper”?
Well, Bob Dylan.
That’s not really the same thing.
Dylan once said, “I could have written ‘Satisfaction’ but you couldn’t have written ‘Tamborine Man.'”
He said that to you?
No, to Keith.
What did he mean? He wasn’t putting you down was he?
Oh yeah, of course he was. But that was just funny, it was great. That’s what he’s like. It’s true but I’d like to hear Bob Dylan sing “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.”
[www.rollingstone.com]
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dcba
... or Start Me Up! ><
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harlem shuffle
Jagger could have written it,not Keith
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OpenG
Desolation Row
No way Mick Jagger would first ever attempt to write such a long song and it has so much surreal lyrics I find only Dylan could of wrote those words.
Bob Dylan
They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad, they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As lady and I look out tonight, from Desolation Row
Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets, Bette Davis-style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to me, I believe"
And someone says, "You're in the wrong place
My friend, you better leave"
And the only sound that's left after the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up on Desolation Row
Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortune telling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel and the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love or else expecting rain
And the good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight on Desolation Row
Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday she already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic, she wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion, her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking into Desolation Row
Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago with his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful as he bummed a cigarette
As he went off sniffing drainpipes and reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin on Desolation Row
Dr. Filth, he keeps his world inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients, they're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have mercy on his soul"
They all play on the penny whistles, you can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough from Desolation Row
Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera, a perfect image of a priest
They're spoon-feeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get outta here if you don't know
Casanova is just being punished for going to Desolation Row"
Now at midnight all the agents and the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone that knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders and then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles by insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping to Desolation Row
Praise be to Nero's Neptune, the Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting, "Which side are you on?"
And Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much about Desolation row
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
About the time the doorknob broke
When you asked me how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now, I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters, no
Not unless you mail them from Desolation Row
Songwriters: Bob Dylan