He writes about a man named Bob Dylan, who took the stage in a place called Newport, Rhode Island, at the so-called Newport Folk Festival. He only knew this because someone filmed it. There was a piece of hair in the upper left corner of the camera as it panned across the crowd. This hair, along with everyone in the video, will forever be trapped in 1964. He sensed this from the way they dressed, the way they clapped, the accent with which the announcer introduced Dylan.
When he took the stage, it was as if time itself bent to accommodate his presence, as if he’d been spliced into 1964. This wasn’t only due to the way he dressed or the way he adjusted the microphone stand, but also to the way he spoke and sang. “Yes, yes, I hear you well,” he said to a heckler, “I think you have the wrong man.”
He laughed and played “Mr. Tambourine Man.”
When he took the stage, it was as if time itself bent to accommodate his presence, as if he’d been spliced into 1964. This wasn’t only due to the way he dressed or the way he adjusted the microphone stand, but also to the way he spoke and sang. “Yes, yes, I hear you well,” he said to a heckler, “I think you have the wrong man.”
He laughed and played “Mr. Tambourine Man.”
