How Bob Dylan became a rock star: “I lost my one true love”
It’s the mid-1960s, and Bob Dylan is ruffling the feathers of folk fanatics. He’s swapping his acoustic guitar for an electric. He’s putting down his harmonica and recruiting a full rock band in its absence, powering through crowds of cynics voicing their discontent. He’s turning away from poetry and words of protest in favour of becoming a full-blown folk rock star.
His former audiences and admirers couldn’t understand it. Feeling a sense of misplaced ownership over his artistic direction, they felt deceived by this shift on a near-spiritual level. One Newport Folk Festival attendee even shouted “Judas” at the folk-rock songwriter, comparing his decision to go electric to the Bible’s biggest betrayal. But even the most damning heckles from the crowd couldn’t knock Dylan off course.
Between his famous performance at Newport and a series of albums that documented his newfound love of rock on wax, Dylan was subject to questioning and queries about his change in direction. In 1966, the same year he would play at the famous folk festival, Playboy inquired about his decision to take on the realm of rock and roll.
Maybe tired of the controversy surrounding his genre switch, or perhaps just looking to stretch his poetic wings, Dylan responded to the question with a suitably rambling and ridiculous response. “Carelessness,” he began, “I lost my one true love. I started drinking.” It almost starts out realistic – perhaps a break-up and a beer could bring about an interest in rock – but Dylan’s words quickly devolve into absurd storytelling.
“The first thing I know, I’m in a card game,” he continues, “Then I’m in a crap game. I wake up in a pool hall.” From there, he’s dragged to Philadelphia, forced to move to Phoenix after his abode goes up in flames, and finds himself working in a dime store before venturing to Dallas, where he moves in with a delivery boy who can make “fantastic chilli and hot dogs.”
More houses burn down and Dylan is forced to Omaha. “It’s so cold there,” he divulges, “by this time I’m robbing my own bicycles and frying my own fish.” He can never stay in one vocation or one location for long in this story, however, as he quickly changes careers to somehow become a carburetor. The fridge in his house can apparently turn newspaper into the perfect leafy green for a B.L.T.
“Everything’s going good until that delivery boy shows up and tries to knife me,” he adds as he draws the lengthy story to a close, “Needless to say, he burned the house down, and I hit the road. The first guy that picked me up asked me if I wanted to be a star. What could I say?”
He simply had to say yes, and so he became folk-rock star Bob Dylan. It’s certainly not the true story of why the songwriter decided to switch up his instrumentation, but it’s likely much more entertaining. It also demonstrates Dylan’s willingness to poke fun at interviewers, evading their questions with grace and wit.
“And that’s how you became a rock-’n’-roll singer?” the interviewer asked when Dylan came to the end of his winding story. “No, that’s how I got tuberculosis,” he responded.
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