The songs Bob Dylan wrote about Edie Sedgwick
“Everyone knew she was the real heroine of Blonde On Blonde.” That’s what Patti Smith wrote of Edie Sedgwick in a eulogy poem for the superstar who died in 1971 at age 28. Bob Dylan has forever denied the fact, claiming that the pair were only distant acquaintances. However, the accounts of their friends and peers say otherwise, and some of Dylan’s own lyrics seem to have traces of her.
As Smith wrote, Blonde On Blonde especially is littered with lines that seem to hold Sedgwick as their muse. At the time, Sedgwick was one of the world’s most famous blondes as Andy Warhol made her his own muse too, putting her signature blonde pixie cut into his films and landing her in the pages of Vogue, being heralded as a star, causing a “youthquake”. She was the it-girl of the time, and from the accounts of her friends, she was totally and utterly in love with Bob Dylan.
It’s a classic Romeo and Juliet-type tale. Sedgwick came from one house: Andy Warhol’s hedonistic scene, while Dylan belonged to the Greenwich Village folk scene or the school of thought that art should mean something or do something to help the world, standing at odds with the ethos of pop art. So, for Sedgwick to try to bridge the gap between the two proved impossible. Warhol was dubious of Dylan and wanted to keep his superstar loyal as his own. Dylan famously hated Warhol, mocking his work and seemingly wanting to take Sedgwick away from that crowd, seeing it as her downfall. In the end, the starlet was caught in the crossfire, abandoned by both as she fell into major financial hardship and worsening mental struggles.
Though Dylan would deny the depth of their relationship, the image of Sedgwick in his lyricism is clear. As the archetypal “poor little rich girl”, descending from her well-to-do life of riches into the sleazy art scene and then further into disarray, so many of Dylan’s songs from the time period he was around that crowd tell his tale, holding the suggestion of Sedgwick as their focus.
The songs Bob Dylan wrote about Edie Sedgwick:
‘Like A Rolling Stone’
As one of Bob Dylan’s most confrontational songs, having ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ written about you wouldn’t exactly be a compliment. But Dylan was never really in the business of using his music to sing of love. Chances are, he was keeping the women in his life far away from his lyricism until the muses told him to sing of loss, anger, frustration or beg for forgiveness.
Or, in this case, and often in Edie Sedgwick’s case, ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ sounds like Dylan pointing his finger and laughing. Released just before Blonde On Blonde, this track feels like a gut reaction or a first response to frustration as he saw the superstar falling from grace amidst Andy Warhol’s crowd, where she lost all her money, became addicted to drugs and fell a long way from her “prime” when he first met her. With lyrics about the “finest schools”, a “princess on a steeple”, “diamond rings” and “dipomats”, Dylan looks back at Sedgwick’s wealthy upbringing before laughing at her new position, mocking, “How does it feel, how does it feel? / To be on your own, with no direction home / A complete unknown, like a rolling stone.”
‘Just Like A Woman’
But if ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ was the immediate mocking response once Dylan had given up caring about Sedgwick and had stopped trying to save her, ‘Just Like A Woman’ is a more tender approach as the closest thing he ever got to writing her a love song.
There is something intimate about the track as he seems to observe her in a vulnerable light that the world didn’t see. Writing of Sedgwick as someone who takes what she wants, makes love and lives boldly like a woman, the final chorus line of “But she breaks just like a little girl” recognises her softer side. It acknowledges her struggles, too, as he seems to see her as a scared girl caught up in a new adult world.
The Blonde on Blonde track also addresses the third side in the tumultuous triangle, pulling Sedgwick’s attention and loyalty in different directions. With reference to her “long-time curse” as a code for Andy Warhol and declarations of “I can’t stay in here”, Dylan is making it clear that he cannot stand to be in the Factory scene, no matter how much he wants to protect it’s it-girl.
‘Temporary Like Achilles’
Across Blonde On Blonde, references to a misty “he” figure float in again and again. If the Heroine of the album is Sedgwick, then this is surely Warhol, as the rivalry between the pop artist and the folk star is well documented.
The stalemate between the three is clearest in ‘Temporary Like Achilles’. Using the mythological figure of Achilles as a character that represents a greed for glory, it’s a stand-in for how Dylan saw Warhol as fame-hungry. It’s also a play on the idea of an Achilles heel, and of the Pop artist always being a weakness that Sedgwick would have. Singing, “Achilles is in your alleyway / He don’t want me here, he does brag / He’s pointing to the sky / And he’s hungry, like a man in drag / How come you get someone like him to be your guard?” Dylan makes his feelings known before crooning about the frustrating mix of longing and hatred, “You know I want your lovin’ / Honey, but you’re so hard.”
‘Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat’
Without knowing the story, ‘Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat’ is simply a classic Dylan ditty. But when considering the specific use of images of Edie Sedgwick’s style and her history of mental illness and hospitalisation, it becomes undeniably one of the musician’s meanest songs.
“Well, I asked the doctor if I could see you / It’s bad for your health, he said / Yes, I disobeyed his orders / I came to see you, but I found him there instead,” he sings, painting a scene of Sedgwick ill in hospital, as she was throughout her youth, but then sexualising the image, singing, “You know, I don’t mind him cheatin’ on me, but I / Sure wish he’d take that off his head / Your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat.” There’s something about the mocking tone he uses to sing of Sedgwick’s fancy clothes, paired with the verses digging at her romantic involvements and ill health, that makes for an uncomfortable listen now.
‘One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)’
After a romantic involvement that Dylan himself forever denied but countless friends and peers corroborated, it came to a dramatic end when, in November 1965, in secret, Dylan got married. Sedgwick wasn’t the only woman left devastated by this sudden betrayal, as Joan Baez was left in the dark, having also had ongoing involvement with the artist. So really, ‘One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)’ could be written to address either of them as the singer delivers what could be seen as the world’s worst apology.
It’s a song full of excuses, as any slight sentiment of remorse is met instantly with a line explaining or attempting to make his actions seem fine. “I didn’t mean to treat you so bad / You shouldn’t take it so personally,” it begins, already as a masterclass in how not to apologise. As one of many scorned women, Sedgwick is merely one of a wide case of people this track attempts to make good with but falls far short of the mark.
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