Today is the 55th anniversary of the release of RDW#12&35. I first heard this on a greatest hits compilation I cherished as a kid. It came with a poster that always inspired my dad to exclaim, “Bobby Dylan!” Counter that with his reaction to my orange felt black light sensitive Jim Morrison poster, “This fucking faerie!” and the blank stares for life size Hendrix playing at Woodstock. Maybe I should’ve owned Blonde on Blonde already but my grass cutting allowance only allowed for one record a week which I bought from Turtles Records and Tapes with crackhead regularity.
RDW reminds me of Liberation Music Orchestra which wouldn’t be released for another three or four years. I wouldn’t be surprised if it influenced it. The numbers? People speculate Bible verses. Idk but I kind of doubt it. I figure the title just popped into his head and that was that but your guess is as good, or better, than mine. The lyrics jump from silly to serious as if the lines are siblings. They remind me of Talkin’ John Birch Paranoia Blues which brings us closer to Woody. If you think about it I think you’ll see what I mean. Half a century plus five and the times are not changing except for, like my father warned would happen, they made it legal and now you can’t get it on Sunday.
Warmth Highest 