In 1986, 'the most famous Bob Dylan bootleg of all time' was released. Called Ten of Swords, it was a 10 album comprehensive compilation of Dylan's unreleased work from 1961 to 1966. Dylan bootlegs have always had a strong cache to collectors, since he has always had the peculiar habit of leaving some of his best work unreleased. Ten of Swords brought together unreleased songs that had been released on dozens of bootleg albums, and the quality of the recordings--usually pretty poor on previous bootlegs--was virtually up to the quality of official releases. Ten of Swords was, unfortunately, hard to find--and quite expensive, to boot. (No pun intended.)
Many years later, however, Ebay came to my rescue. I found copies (now on 7 CD's rather than 10 records) for a relatively nominal price--as Ralph Kramden might have put it, for "a mere bag of shells". So I bought it, popped the 7 CD's in my 10 disc CD player -- along with 3 of my other Dylan CD's -- opened a pint of Guinness, and sat down to listen. I hit 'play' on the remote...and nothing happened Absolutely nothing. I know that's redundant--but how else can I convey the frustration I felt that night? No matter what I did, my stereo just sat there, insolently glaring back at me.
Before hurling my pint of Guinness at it, I decided to calm down, take the CD's out & listen to them one at a time on the CD player in my computer. But not only was 'play' not working, but 'eject' wasn't either. Not only could I not listen to the CD's -- now I couldn't even get them out of the CD player. I spent that night with a screwdriver in my hand, trying to take apart the machine & retrieve my CD's. I never was able to take it apart. If I'd have had a baseball bat in the house that night, I know what I might have done.
The next night I talked to my older daughter and told her what had happened. She spent her childhood with Bob Dylan as part of the soundtrack of her life, and she knows more than most that he is an acquired taste. (I remember my first wife waking up one morning & telling me she'd just had a horrible nightmare -- she'd dreamed that Bob Dylan had moved in with us and wouldn't leave!)
When I told my daughter that I'd loaded up the CD player with 10 Dylan CD's, she thought that explained everything; after all these years being forced to play Dylan CD's, this was the final, last straw for my CD player. It just couldn't take it anymore.
So, I guess I can sort of understand why the CD player decided to go to that big stereo store in the sky. But why wouldn't it let me have my CD's back? Besides being suicidal, did it also have to be spiteful?
Comments