“This is a Dylan who is electrifying and charismatic, albeit in an untraditional way, but also socially awkward and even a little spectrumy. He strikes up a relationship with his girlfriend Sylvie (a composite representation of Suze Rotolo, the woman you see with Dylan walking down the snowy street on the cover of his second album). He then casually cheats on her with Joan Baez. When Sylvie travels to Europe for three months to study painting, he’s heartsick and can’t bear her leaving and then promptly strikes up again with Baez until Sylvie comes back. As the movie goes on it’s a little hard to make sense of whether he’s cheating on Sylvie with Baez or Baez with Sylvie. Partly this is the movie’s impressionistic rendition of time. But the real story has lots of other women in the mix. In fact, by the time of the climactic scenes of the movie in 1965, Dylan had already started another relationship with a woman named Sara Lownds, which he seems to have kept hidden from almost everyone, and who he secretly married during a break in his 1965 tour. In other words, the precise set of characters and triangles is a confection. The gist is pretty much spot-on.”
“It turns out that getting fans to pay for music has no necessary connection to getting musicians paid. Vocational awe means that the fact that someone has induced a musician to make music doesn’t mean that the musician is getting a fair share of what you pay for music. The same goes for every kind of art, and every field where vocational awe plays a role, from nursing to librarianship.”
“Ghost artists are musicians who are recruited by shadowy companies that offer flat fees for composing and performing inoffensive muzak that can fade into the background. This is wholesaled to Spotify, which crams it into wildly popular playlists of music that people put on while they’re doing something else…”
“…the CEO of Spotify makes more money than Taylor Swift. The CEO of Netflix doesn’t do quite so well, but he’s still earning roughly the same amount as Tom Cruise.”
“Music itself is going to become like running water or electricity. So it’s like, just take advantage of these last few years because none of this is ever going to happen again. You’d better be prepared for doing a lot of touring because that’s really the only unique situation that’s going to be left. It’s terribly exciting. But on the other hand it doesn’t matter if you think it’s exciting or not; it’s what’s going to happen.”
“I’m still amazed that my folks allowed me to see the Grateful Dead unsupervised as a seventeen-year-old, something I’d never let my own kids do. Historians claim that ancient Greece would strike a time-traveling contemporary American as bizarre. The religious rituals, for instance, would seem utterly alien to us. These historians have obviously never seen the Dead live, which is a Dionysian ecstatic festival par excellence. Pre-show, I watched an acquaintance load a grilled cheese sandwich with a good half-cup of magic mushrooms. (He came out of his trip some years later and is doing well now, by all accounts.) Mom and Dad would be happy to know I did not actively ingest any substances other than good old H₂O, but I am quite sure I got a contact high in the skunky smoke-enshrouded arena which in essence doubled as a giant hotbox; I believe it was during “Eyes Of The World” that a nearby security officer threw in the towel and took repeated hits off a spliff the size of a Cohiba. Quite simply, it was the most charismatic church service—albeit a drug-fueled, pagan one—that I had ever witnessed. Until I saw Taylor Swift.”