KotiRyhmätKeskusteluLisääAjan henki
Etsi sivustolta
Tämä sivusto käyttää evästeitä palvelujen toimittamiseen, toiminnan parantamiseen, analytiikkaan ja (jos et ole kirjautunut sisään) mainostamiseen. Käyttämällä LibraryThingiä ilmaiset, että olet lukenut ja ymmärtänyt käyttöehdot ja yksityisyydensuojakäytännöt. Sivujen ja palveluiden käytön tulee olla näiden ehtojen ja käytäntöjen mukaista.

Tulokset Google Booksista

Pikkukuvaa napsauttamalla pääset Google Booksiin.

Ladataan...

Muistelmat. Osa 1 (2004)

Tekijä: Bob DYLAN

Muut tekijät: Katso muut tekijät -osio.

JäseniäKirja-arvostelujaSuosituimmuussijaKeskimääräinen arvioMaininnat
4,369712,620 (3.89)66
"I'd come from a long ways off and had started a long ways down. But now destiny was about to manifest itself. I felt like it was looking right at me and nobody else." So writes Bob Dylan in Chronicles: Volume One, his remarkable book exploring critical junctures in his life and career. Through Dylan's eyes and open mind, we see Greenwich Village, circa 1961, when he first arrives in Manhattan. Dylan's New York is a magical city of possibilities -- smoky, nightlong parties; literary awakenings; transient loves and unbreakable friendships. Elegiac observations are punctuated by jabs of memories, penetrating and tough. With the book's side trips to New Orleans, Woodstock, Minnesota and points west, Chronicles: Volume One is an intimate and intensely personal recollection of extraordinary times. By turns revealing, poetical, passionate and witty, Chronicles: Volume One is a mesmerizing window on Bob Dylan's thoughts and influences. Dylan's voice is distinctively American: generous of spirit, engaged, fanciful and rhythmic. Utilizing his unparalleled gifts of storytelling and the exquisite expressiveness that are the hallmarks of his music, Bob Dylan turns Chronicles: Volume One into a poignant reflection on life, and the people and places that helped shape the man and the art.… (lisätietoja)
  1. 10
    Kafka Was the Rage: A Greenwich Village Memoir (tekijä: Anatole Broyard) (bertilak)
  2. 10
    A Freewheelin' Time: A Memoir of Greenwich Village in the Sixties (tekijä: Suze Rotolo) (aulsmith)
    aulsmith: Dylan's girlfriend's memoirs of life in the Village in the early 1960s
  3. 10
    Bob Dylan: The Illustrated Record (tekijä: Alan Rinzler) (gust)
  4. 00
    Het verhaal van De Nieuwe Snaar (tekijä: Kris De Smet) (gust)
  5. 00
    Kuka olen (tekijä: Pete Townshend) (br77rino)
    br77rino: Both of these autobiographies are surprisingly honest, and great reads. Dylan's especially breaks away from a lot of the conventional (i.e., media-concocted) descriptions of these guys.
Ladataan...

Kirjaudu LibraryThingiin nähdäksesi, pidätkö tästä kirjasta vai et.

Ei tämänhetkisiä Keskustelu-viestiketjuja tästä kirjasta.

» Katso myös 66 mainintaa

englanti (69)  ruotsi (2)  Kaikki kielet (71)
Näyttää 1-5 (yhteensä 71) (seuraava | näytä kaikki)
As interesting for its omissions as what Dylan does decide to include. The most interesting part of the book is how Dylan recalls his arrival in New York City and entry to the folk music scene. A long chapter on recording with Daniel Lanois is almost insufferable. ( )
  monicaberger | Jan 22, 2024 |
Overall, I'm not as impressed as so many reviewers seemed to be with this memoir. It was an interesting read, but often Dylan's recollections seemed to mean a lot more to him than they could possibly mean to a reader in the random, somewhat cryptic way they were related. There is no time line, very few signposts to give you a clue as to when or even where some of the incidents took place. References to "my wife" never mention her name, so knowing which wife he was talking about at any given time would require research and correlation; some of those references seemed to have little or no bearing on the narrative in any case. At other times, however, he stunned me with his observations. His complete rejection of the labels people tried to stick to him---Spokesman of the Counterculture, Voice of the Folk Movement, Conscience of His Generation, even "protest singer"--- struck me as very poignant. He repeatedly made the point that all he wanted to do was write songs, be true to himself, and take care of his family. The best bits were his descriptions of other artists he admired, and he never says a bad word about anybody. Joan Baez had a "voice that drove out bad spirits". Robert Johnson's words "made my nerves quiver like piano wires." Harry Belafonte was "that rare type of character that radiates greatness, and you hope some of it rubs off on you." The closest he comes to criticizing anyone is when he mentions a producer or agent who didn't "get" what he was trying to do. I'm very glad I read this, but I'm not sure I can give it more than 3 stars. It did make me want to read Joe Klein's biography of Woody Guthrie, which has been on my shelves for a long time.
April 2021 ( )
  laytonwoman3rd | Dec 19, 2023 |
Chronicles: Volume One outlines the growth of Dylan's artistic conscience. Writing in a language in the accessible language of a street poet, he lingers not on moments of success and celebrity, but on the crises of his intellectual development. But, Dylan's career and his brilliance, have often been attributed to how he reacted to success. And Dylan paints a vivid picture of how this success was defined by himself and likewise, by the media throughout.

Just when we get to where he is making it big - we skip to the famous motorcycle accident. He skips the years of his greatest records (one could argue)! Perhaps saving those years for the second volume of his chronicle, Dylan recalls the times when he was sick of his public persona and made more lackluster (?) albums like "Self-Portrait" and "New Morning." He then skips again to his comeback work with producer Daniel Lanois in the late 1980s. Dylan ends, where he begins, with discovering Woody Guthrie, hitching a ride to New York, and signing to Columbia Records. And the rest is history.

This memoir is insightful, vague, obtuse, profound, disordered, and fascinating - much like Dylan himself. Don't expect a complete picture of the man you thought you knew and don't completely expect linear storytelling. Settle in for the journey of a man, trying to find the creative spark at each and every turn.

( )
  ryantlaferney87 | Dec 8, 2023 |
I thoroughly loved this book. One of the things I loved most was his descriptions of people and places. That's one of the main draws of his lyrics for me--the way he turns a phrase. It's been years since I read it, but sections of it still come to me when I hear any of his classic songs. ( )
  MickeyMole | Oct 2, 2023 |
"I thought of mainstream culture as lame as hell and a big trick."

This book is fantastic. I'm ready for Volume Two now.

As nearly as possible, Bob Dylan gives us a glimpse into his creative process and evolution as an artist and a man; not that any of these things can ever be understood in a linear way or accurately and specifically communicated, narrowed down, labeled and classified, but if anyone is up to meeting this task square-on, it's Robert Zimmerman, Bob Dylan, Elston Gunn.

Dylan spills right into his meeting with Lou Levy, a guy who helped make him realize his dream through a record contract. With gorgeous descriptions, Dylan shares a pragmatic and sumptuous snapshot of his life as a young man in the early 60s in Greenwich Village.

"When I arrived, it was dead-on winter. The cold was brutal and every artery of the city was snowpacked, but I'd started out from the frostbitten North Country, a little corner of the earth where the dark frozen woods and icy roads didn't faze me. I could transcend the limitations. It wasn't money or love that I was looking for. I had a heightened sense of awareness, was set in my ways, impractical and a visionary to boot. My mind was strong like a trap and I didn't need any guarantee of validity. I didn't know a single soul in this dark freezing metropolis but that was all about to change - and quick."

Regardless of who wrote this, I would want to devour every word this author every committed to paper, but the fact that it’s Dylan telling his story and sharing this breadth of musical knowledge is stunning.

Chronicles weaves in and out of the decades, like a fish following the currents, naturally and effortlessly. Dylan brings us to the paradise of folk music: He hops around from the 1987 recording in New Orleans of "Oh Mercy," (he deliciously describes the process of discovery that went into producing the album) and his warped time in Woodstock to listening to "Pirate Jenny," with Suze Rotolo, who turned him onto drawing spontaneously. He introduces us to an old jazz singer in a bar in San Rafael, from whom he remembered how to sing. The visits to see Woody Guthrie at the hospital, “an asylum with no spiritual hope of any kind,” reverberated with me for weeks after reading because I have visited people in such places, and he nails it.

I read the first fifty or so pages at a snail's pace because I stopped to look up every new character, location, event, and song. I didn’t want to miss a thing. I decided to push on through with his passionate narrative - one which synthesizes an absolute joy of discovery including the whole heaping of humanity via literature from Balzac and Byron, as well as his keen-eyed version of global events, ethics, and artistic expression.

Dylan sauters together words to paint his creative process, his name changes, and the friends who influenced and informed him, (and gave him a couch to sleep on), including Dave Van Ronk, Ray Gooch, and cool kitten Chloe Kiel; each person is so vibrant through Bob's words - every life deserves their own life story to be penned.

He agonized about making a record and explains, "There was nothing easygoing about the folk songs I sang. They weren't friendly or ripe with mellowness. They didn't come gently to the shore."

He tells of driving with his obstreperous friend, David Crosby, (whom seemed like the perfect companion on this trip to Princeton University in 1971), to receive an honorary degree. The speaker who introduced him said, "Though he is known to millions, he shuns publicity and organizing preferring the solidarity of his family and isolation from the world, and though he is approaching the perilous age of thirty, he remains the authentic expression of the disturbed and concerned conscience of Young America."

Dylan wrote "...he could have emphasized a few things about my music. When he said to the crowd that I preferred isolation form the world, it was like he told them that I preferred being in an iron tomb with my food shoved in on a tray."

With painful precision, he writes about how public and press anointed and misunderstood him, called him a Prophet, propped him up, tore him down, invaded his privacy and his home, and asked those inane interview questions; he writes about the effects of this distortion had on him and his family. How can one feel free when being constantly misquoted and stuffed in a fishbowl? For a period of time his Muse was muted.

I recently watched a video of Bob Dylan on The Steve Allen Show at the beginning of his public path. Steve called him a genius; even as he gushed, he acknowledged how uncomfortable being in that position must be. Chronicles solidified my impressions; Dylan has it in him innately, and he worked for it: a self-schooled student of musicology who deserved that doctorate from Princeton and an introduction that honored his path.

Early on in the book when he lit upon the story of Joseph Hillström, the martyred Union Organizer and Troubadour, I was captivated. I've been a bit obsessed by ‘Joe Hill’ all my life. "I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night" was the first song I learned on piano; Hill’s life story is so profound, in a sense it shaped mine. As I learn about the details of the frame up of Hill and his response to it, the more committed I am that his life be remembered. Dylan wrote that he fantasized writing a song about Joe Hill called, “Scatter My Ashes Anyplace But Utah.” The moment I read this, the idea of writing a poem gripped me. This spilled out:

SCATTER MY ASHES ANYPLACE BUT UTAH

She shrieked into the darkness of the blackness of the night,
It was a wail of playful pleasure, not a caterwaul of fright.
He gently covered her lips while heaving an efficacious sigh,
"Let us be silent with our cries, or we may both soon die."

Rangy Joseph Hillström was a Swedish gentleman:
Agitator, educator, he did not, would not, live in sin.
In 1902 Joe sailed from Sweden to the U.S. but there he was held down;
Worked hard as he could, yet was castigated into the ground.

"Boy, we upped your load and lopped your pay,
But your revolutionary ways you can save.
We rule by compliance, not labor alliance,
So behave, you slave, or mumble 'Hej' to an early grave."

At high noon many days, under the blistering union sun
Hill persuaded hoi polloi to strike before day was done.
Handsome Joe sang out and rallied the belittled human masses,
Browbeat by giant egos of mob bosses, sycophants, and asses.

Enter golden-honey haired Hilda, peach cheeks, green-hazel eyes,
She strummed his back like a harp as he heaved a soulful sigh.
The niece of Joe's compatriot from Belfast, a true and loyal friend,
Their fierce fondness for each other did Otto Appelquist offend.

Labor organizer, songwriter, dock walloper, worker for hire,
Faced with apocryphal execution bullets, Joe yelled out, "Fire."
"Shoot you cowards, youse sadistic yellow-bellied liars,"
Hildy hissed as she reminisced of Hägglund kisses in the year prior.

Troubadour, adored leader of the Industrial Workers of the World,
A target from back in San Diego where his reputation unfurled,
Joe, Joseph, Joel was set up, falsely accused and shamefully blamed.
He was willing to die for the movement, though he was unjustly framed.

For the murder of grocer Morrison, there was a suspect; Wilson was his name.
He had on him a bloody handkerchief; being a career criminal was his game.
But the filthy politicians set up Joe because insurgents had to go.
The revolutionary faction was one the Mormons could not keep in tow.

Joe's wages were low, his intellect high and his morals even higher.
A symbol for the working-class, he ignored that his plight was dire.
The Laureate of Labor kept his keen humor, did not hold a grudge.
Prosecution showed no proof or motive, jurors were appointed by the judge.

Helen Keller, The Rebel Girl, and the Swedish Ambassador called for justice in Joe’s case.
Hillström would not accept a pardon; he stood strong, a pillar in his place.
A pardon would not cut it; he insisted on a just trial fair and square,
But could not get that in Utah with the cooper bosses running things there.

Principled to recklessness, he lived as an artist and died like one too.
The little red songbook rang with his songs that strikers sang on cue.
After he was murdered, people marched and mourned in many states;
Foreigners and natives had a hard time seeing how America was great.

Before his last breath, Hill penned his last will and testament.
He made clear his remains would not rest on vile firmament.
"Scatter my ashes anyplace but Utah, brother.
This was but my one life; I don't expect another.”

Scatter my ashes anyplace but Utah,
Scatter them wildly and set me free.
There’s the pie in the sky when you die, (that’s a lie);
when loose from this earthily noose,
I’ll know nothingness, I will BE.

I die like a true blue rebel - don't waste any time in mourning.
Please arrange to have my body hauled to the state line by morning.
Educate, agitate, organize, and don’t give them any fair warning.
It’s in their eyes, dishonorable brains don’t theorize,
they will kill you Bill, without any stalling.

Scatter my ashes anyplace but Utah,
Scatter my ashes anyplace but Utah,
Scatter them wildly and set me free.

I gave it my all, worked for the betterment of humankind.
Labored, sang, stood up to devils, the worst a man could find."
She shrieked into the darkness of the blackness of the night
And cried aloud for the laborer with whom she shared such delight.

Scatter my ashes anyplace but Utah,
Scatter them wildly and set me free. ( )
  Sasha_Lauren | Aug 15, 2023 |
Näyttää 1-5 (yhteensä 71) (seuraava | näytä kaikki)
ei arvosteluja | lisää arvostelu

» Lisää muita tekijöitä (12 mahdollista)

Tekijän nimiRooliTekijän tyyppiKoskeeko teosta?Tila
DYLAN, Bobensisijainen tekijäkaikki painoksetvahvistettu
Bindervoet, ErikKääntäjämuu tekijäeräät painoksetvahvistettu
Carrera, AlessandroKääntäjämuu tekijäeräät painoksetvahvistettu
Gellerfelt, MatsKääntäjämuu tekijäeräät painoksetvahvistettu
Henkes, Robbert-JanKääntäjämuu tekijäeräät painoksetvahvistettu
Penn, SeanKertojamuu tekijäeräät painoksetvahvistettu

Kuuluu näihin kustantajien sarjoihin

Sinun täytyy kirjautua sisään voidaksesi muokata Yhteistä tietoa
Katso lisäohjeita Common Knowledge -sivuilta (englanniksi).
Teoksen kanoninen nimi
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta. Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
Alkuteoksen nimi
Teoksen muut nimet
Alkuperäinen julkaisuvuosi
Henkilöt/hahmot
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta. Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
Tärkeät paikat
Tärkeät tapahtumat
Kirjaan liittyvät elokuvat
Epigrafi (motto tai mietelause kirjan alussa)
Omistuskirjoitus
Ensimmäiset sanat
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta. Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
Lou Levy, top man of Leeds Music Publishing company, took me up in a taxi to the Pythian Temple on West 70th Street to show me the pocket sized recording studio where Bill Haley and His Comets had recorded "Rock Around the Clock"—then down to Jack Dempsey's restaurant on 58th and Broadway, where we sat down in a red leather upholstered booth facing the front window.
Sitaatit
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta. Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
He asked me about my family. I told him about my grandma on my mom's side who lived with us. She was filled with nobility and goodness, told me once that happiness isn't on the road to anything. That happiness is the road. Had also instructed me to be kind because everyone you'll ever meet is fighting a hard battle.
As far as I knew, I didn't belong to anybody then or now. I had a wife and children whom I loved more than anything else in the world. I was trying to provide for them, keep out of trouble, but the big bugs in the press kept promoting me as the mouthpiece, spokesman, or even conscience of a generation. That was funny. All I'd ever done was sing songs that were dead straight and expressed powerful new realities. I had very little in common with and knew even less about a generation that I was supposed to be the voice of.
     …Once in the midsummer madness I was riding in a car with Robbie Robertson, the guitar player in what was later to be called The Band. I felt like I might as well have been living in another part of the solar system.
     He says to me, "Where do you think you're gonna take it?"
     I said, "Take what?"
     "You know, the whole music scene."
     The whole music scene! The car window was rolled down about an inch. I rolled it down the rest of the way, felt a gust of wind blow into my face and waited for what he said to die away—it was like dealing with a conspiracy. No place was far enough away. I don't know what everybody else was fantasizing about, but what I was fantasizing about was a nine-to-five existence, a house on a tree-lined block with a white picket fence, pink roses in the backyard.
     "You a prayin' man, huh? What do you pray for? You pray for the world?"
     (Dylan) I never thought about praying for the world. I said, "I pray that I can be a kinder person."
Viimeiset sanat
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta. Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
(Napsauta nähdäksesi. Varoitus: voi sisältää juonipaljastuksia)
Erotteluhuomautus
Julkaisutoimittajat
Kirjan kehujat
Alkuteoksen kieli
Kanoninen DDC/MDS
Kanoninen LCC
"I'd come from a long ways off and had started a long ways down. But now destiny was about to manifest itself. I felt like it was looking right at me and nobody else." So writes Bob Dylan in Chronicles: Volume One, his remarkable book exploring critical junctures in his life and career. Through Dylan's eyes and open mind, we see Greenwich Village, circa 1961, when he first arrives in Manhattan. Dylan's New York is a magical city of possibilities -- smoky, nightlong parties; literary awakenings; transient loves and unbreakable friendships. Elegiac observations are punctuated by jabs of memories, penetrating and tough. With the book's side trips to New Orleans, Woodstock, Minnesota and points west, Chronicles: Volume One is an intimate and intensely personal recollection of extraordinary times. By turns revealing, poetical, passionate and witty, Chronicles: Volume One is a mesmerizing window on Bob Dylan's thoughts and influences. Dylan's voice is distinctively American: generous of spirit, engaged, fanciful and rhythmic. Utilizing his unparalleled gifts of storytelling and the exquisite expressiveness that are the hallmarks of his music, Bob Dylan turns Chronicles: Volume One into a poignant reflection on life, and the people and places that helped shape the man and the art.

Kirjastojen kuvailuja ei löytynyt.

Kirjan kuvailu
Yhteenveto haiku-muodossa

Current Discussions

-

Suosituimmat kansikuvat

Pikalinkit

Arvio (tähdet)

Keskiarvo: (3.89)
0.5
1 10
1.5 2
2 37
2.5 10
3 206
3.5 52
4 308
4.5 36
5 242

Oletko sinä tämä henkilö?

Tule LibraryThing-kirjailijaksi.

Recorded Books

Recorded Books on julkaissut painoksen tästä kirjasta.

» Kustantajan sivusto

 

Lisätietoja | Ota yhteyttä | LibraryThing.com | Yksityisyyden suoja / Käyttöehdot | Apua/FAQ | Blogi | Kauppa | APIs | TinyCat | Perintökirjastot | Varhaiset kirja-arvostelijat | Yleistieto | 201,854,313 kirjaa! | Yläpalkki: Aina näkyvissä