Bob Dylan returns to Italy but cell phones will be banned at his concerts, scheduled for July. No photos or videos. A choice that may seem sensible and reasonable… sure, if you’re Tchaikovsky. But Bob Dylan should speak to the new generation (who use the phones) and not be the priest in the Church who tells you to turn the ringer down. That’s why he’s wrong
bobby, bobby, how badly you’ve aged. Already at the time of the Nobel you began to make yourself desired (and luckily there was Patti Smith to sing yours A hard rain’s a-gonna fall, that many link to the Cuban missile crisis and some, less and less, to that ballad of the thirteenth century, Lord Randallwhich inspired you for the text). Bobby, Bobby, because you are Bobby. It’s the fault of the name, like Romeo. It is precisely because of him that your latest limited edition books on the philosophy of song you sold for 600 dollars a copy, only because they were autographed by you (only to discover that it was not you who signed them but an autopen). Who knows how much the tickets will cost for your concerts in Italy in July of this year. From 150 to 300 euros? Something more? Imagine a boy who discovers Allen Ginsberg or his father’s guitar in a bookshop during the summer. Who starts to see your songs in the songbooks. Someone who wants to come hear you at all costs. That he will be able to do it this time and that’s it, that then who knows when we’ll see each other again, right? You are already not nice on stage, you come and go, you only think about singing, as if I were there on a mission for God and not for an audience made up of loyalists and newcomers who grew up listening to you, Paul McCartney and Nick Drake. But not even old. Bobby, old no.
bob Dylan plays “young”, “contestation”. The man bearing this name is not expected to age. No, that casing of flesh and blood that contains his voice, his words, his ideas, may have a few wrinkles, an outdated hat and may even want to steal some money from fans willing to spend 6 piotte for a piece of card (which is certainly not theeditio princeps de The city of God of Augustine). But that he does the old with the young, really, no. I say this because it will strictly ban, martially, the use of cell phones at his concerts. A choice devoid of any technical significance. After all, he’s not driving an airplane. The tune should sound like this: “Listen to my music and don’t fuck up”. But it’s more of a: “Listen to my music and put those hellish gadgets away of the devil, gosh.” One Bob Dylan imagines that he goes to mass with the harmonica at the age of 12 when only harpsichords and embroidered handkerchiefs were allowed in the Church. He can’t imagine him at the age of 70 holding the bells of the Eucharist with one hand while with the other he undertakes to slap the grimacing altar boy on the neck. Bobby, let me tell you: You ban cell phones, but what do you mean?
Stand the problem is the digital contents, what will happen to them, the purpose of profit and whatever you like, I have a question for you: are you Bob Dylan or Justin Bieber? At 81, does Bob Dylan count the cents in his fanny pack? I don’t think so, although you will even charge to hold phones at your concert. You should give it away your music, which is a world heritage site, like certain bridges, like certain squares, like certain museums. You should be displayed inside a display case to prevent people from touching your feet. Other than getting bogged down talk about the devil’s dung. Someone who missed the bus and walked to school to hear everything tells you Hurricane at least twice. And then you always said it too: “All the money you make will never buy back your soul”.
THEor I pay a ticket for something that I will always want to carry with me and my experience should be mutilated because Does an old man bother, like, flashes or people living in the 21st century? I’ll pay 100/200 euros to come hear you, perhaps taking one last chance. I will come with friends or with my girlfriend or not, alone because others couldn’t. I would like to show them what it feels like, I would like to have a material memory, to put in an online album, in a story, to send to my parents. Even because experiences can also be shared, to increase their meaning, to make them common, to be able to talk about them and be understood. It’s like going to a city and not taking pictures, a small fragment that I could have given to my grandparents, who will never see that city. If people don’t like it, great. But you won’t have to tell me how to live that moment? Bobby, mind your own business, right? You should play Blowing in the windnot Nutcracker.