The legendary musician Bob Dylan called “a mathematical guitar genius”
Praise from Bob Dylan has always been a rare occurrence, but perhaps more significant to him are those who were more quietly impactful with their craft, those who might not have ticked every box it takes to be a star, but mastered enough that it was still meaningful.
Randy Newman was one such figure. While discussing the importance of songs like ‘Louisiana’ and ‘Sail Away’, Dylan once gave the kind of back-handed compliment most contemporary singers could dream of, praising Newman’s ability to write a song, even if he sucked when it came to the rest.
“Randy might not go out on stage and knock you out, or knock your socks off,” he quipped. “And he’s not going to get people thrilled in the front row. But he’s gonna write a better song than most people who can do it.”
Cynicism aside, there’s always a complexity to Dylan’s praise that makes you wonder whether they were actually people he even admired at all, or whether they’re just figures he might’ve thought had something once, but who either weren’t good enough to sustain their careers long-term or didn’t have what it takes to have real, longstanding cultural impact.
Ricky Nelson was another Dylan both admired and criticised, not for his craft, per se – he described ‘Lonesome Town’ as a “great minor masterpiece” – but for his inability to adapt to the times, a crucial mishap that ensured his music “no chance of meaning anything” in the long run. While Dylan certainly had a point, such opinions often seem more revealing of his constant need to validate his own artistic development than his desire to spotlight the legacies of others.
The only difference came when Dylan once shared his thoughts on the late guitarist Robbie Robertson, saying he was “the only mathematical guitar genius I‘ve ever run into who doesn’t offend my intestinal nervousness with his rear-guard sound.” More than his technical ability, Dylan especially loved the atmosphere he created at their communal house, Big Pink, where they recorded The Basement Tapes.
Speaking about the environment to Rolling Stone in the 1960s, Dylan said there was nothing quite like it – that Big Pink had the kind of comfortable and laidback atmosphere that was conducive to the best kinds of productivity. In his own words, “That’s really the way to do a recording. In somebody’s basement. With the windows open and a dog lying on the floor.”
A pivotal figure who played with Dylan during his electronic transition, Robertson was similarly in awe of his musical comrade, once admitting that it surprised him how such a “frail” figure could have such unmatched “vocal power”. He even called their tour a “battlefield”, because he was singing with so much strength and energy that everyone else “had to fight back”.
When Robertson passed, Dylan’s admiration only grew stronger. It’s clear, therefore, that, unlike many Dylan claimed to love, Robertson wasn’t just someone he could easily measure with carefully chosen words and observations that suggest more about Dylan himself. Instead, Robertson was a genuine genius whose passing left “a vacancy” no one else will be able to fill.
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