Partners who wronged him are forgiven ( “I’ll drink to the man that shares your bed”), follies of youth are relived ( “I frolic with all the young dudes”) and secrets confessed ( “Got skeletons in the walls of people you know”). From this stoic statement of mortality he peels away the details of his journey with the grace and conciliation of a master making his peace.
“Today, tomorrow, and yesterday, too, the flowers are dyin’ like all things do,” Dylan drawls over elegiac slide guitar, misted arpeggios and strings made for military elegies, occasionally slipping into impersonations of the wise old bluesmen.
0 kommentar(er)
