Talking New Bob Dylan - Loudon Wainwright III

Hey, Bob Dylan, I wrote you a song

Today is your birthday if I’m not wrong

If I’m not mistaken you’re fifty today

How are you doin', Bob?

What do you say?

Well, it musta been about '62

I heard you on record, and you were brand-new

An' some had some doubts about the way you sang

But the truth came through and loudly rang

Yeah, you were hipper than Mitch Miller

And Johnny Mathis, put together

So I got some boots, a harmonica rack

A D-21, an' I was on the right track

But I didn’t start writing until '68

It was too damn daunting, you were too great

I won a whole lot of Bob Dylan imitation contests, though -- huh

Yeah, times were a-changin'

You brought it all home --

«Blonde On Blonde», «Like a Rolling Stone»

The real world is crazy, you were deranged

An' when you went electric, why, everything changed --

A shock to the system

Had a commission at yer motorcycle wreck --

Holed up in Woodstock, with a broken neck

The labels were signin' up guys with guitars, out to make millions,

lookin' for stars

Well, I figured it was time to make my move --

Songs from the West Chester County Delta country

Yeah, I got a deal, and so did John Prine, Steve Forbert and Springsteen,

all in a line

They were lookin' for you, signin' up others

We were «new Bob Dylans» -- your dumb-ass kid brothers

Well, we still get together every week at Bruce’s house --

Why, he’s got quite a spread, I tell ya -- it’s a twelve-step program

Well, but we were just us and of course you were you

«John Wesley Harding» sure sounded new

And then «Nashville Skyline» was even newer

'Blood On the Tracks', an' the ringin' got truer

Let’s see -- there was another one in there somewhere… oh, I got it,

I got it -- «Self Portrait» --

Well, it was an interesting effort

Yeah, had to stop listening, times were too tough

Me bein' the new me was hard enough

You keep right on changin' like you always do

An' what’s best is the old stuff still all sounds new.

Yeah, today is your birthday -- have a great one, Bob!

Bein' the new you is one hell of a job

My kid cranked up her boom-box to almost grown

When I heard you screamin'

From her room --

«Everybody must get stoned.»

Thanks a lot, Bob

Happy birthday, Bob