On Watching Patti Smith singing 'Hard Rain' in Stockholm
It is well worth watching, on YouTube, the performance of Bob Dylan’s ‘Hard Rain’ by Patti Smith at the Nobel Prize ceremony in Stockholm last Saturday https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2SPNT1lwBg
It provokes all kinds of thoughts, which I will come to.
I think I heard this song for the first time in 1964 or 1965, some years after Dylan wrote and first performed it (I am told this was a month *before* the Cuban missile crisis to which many think it was a response).This was when news of the young Hibbing genius was still filtering into our steam-age nation. I was entranced by its ancient rhythm and prophetic tone.
As with all Dylan songs, I found that the more I thought about it the more I wondered whether he was just toying with us, or had a serious point to make. But I decided, at that self-righteous Utopian phase in my life, to believe it was serious, and that it was intended as a warning. I still think it *was* but that Dylan himself has long ceased to be the person who originally wrote it. See his interesting song ‘My Back Pages’ for a general repudiation of his more grandiose earlier attitudes, and presumably of the mainline Communist ideas he got from Suze Rotolo, the rather lovely girl who is shown clutching his arm in the snow in the picture on the cover of ‘The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan’. Suze (confusingly pronounced Suzie), who broke up with Dylan in very sad circumstances and died quite recently, in 2011, had been brought up in a Communist home, and there are few places more doggedly unflinchingly Communist than an American Communist home. I quite like (though don’t wholly agree with) her remark, made not long before her death that ‘The sixties were an era that spoke a language of inquiry and curiosity and rebelliousness against the stifling and repressive political and social culture of the decade that preceded it. The new generation causing all the fuss was not driven by the market: we had something to say, not something to sell.’
Adolescents, at least my sort of adolescent, love a bit of doom. The idea that heedless adults have got it all wrong and will be pulled down into a general collapse is appealing to the moody and sulky teen, such as I was.
I suppose it was a good choice for the Stockholm evening (though I would have picked ‘Chimes of Freedom’ as being the song which most sums up what Dylan stands for in the minds of his generation, whatever he might think now) , and others have pointed out that Patti Smith, despite a brief memory lapse, made a good, solemn job of it. In fact, they have pointed out that she probably made a better job of it than Dylan would have done had he turned up. When he performs his old classics now, he tortures them. Patti Smith looked, with her hawk-like, weathered face and in her high white collar, like the rather fearsome pastor of some austere feminist Calvinist sect, if such a thing is possible, which almost anything is nowadays. She also looked very definitely unyoung, as the sixties lot tend to do nowadays, much as it displeases us.
And it is prophetic. Who, hearing the words written in 1962 ‘I saw a young woman whose body was burning’, does not nowadays immediately think of the 1972 picture of Phan Thi Kim Phuc, the Vietnamese girl yelling in pain and fear after being (unintentionally) napalmed by her own side as she fled down the road? Well, I do, anyway. The really surprising thing about this is that she survived, but at the time we just thought (I did, anyway) that the lid had come off human barbarism and that the only thing to do was to be against everything that was established. And so I was.
Much of the rest of the song seems to come out of a lost book of the Bible, or at least a lost chapter of ‘Revelation’. And it prophesies devastation and ruin, if in some way we don’t heed the warning. Humph. As it happens, we didn’t heed the warning, and a good thing too. In fact the world is as it is, and not a good deal worse, because we didn’t pay much attention to the implicit nuclear disarmament message that I and plenty of other teenage minds took from it. Those stifling , repressive old Masters of War were quite right to mistrust the Soviet empire, which was in its own way quite capable of any atrocity you care to mention, and for a much worse cause.
And I am still amused by how extremely unpopular it was to take that view (as I came to do in the 1980s) with the Dylan generation. As someone who feared and disliked the Soviet regime and the KGB *when they still existed*, I am endlessly amused to meet people who were indifferent at the time, and who now feign – or genuinely feel – a horror at post-Soviet Russia, who have no idea how bad the USSR was and how (comparatively) harmless Russia is. For they are often the same people who belittled the Soviet threat when it existed.
Just as I was amused to see Ms Smith (who stumbled rather movingly in the song and recovered with what can only be called grace), being reverently heard in Stockholm’s concert hall by an audience of extreme respectability, including royalty. Goodness, if we had foreseen such establishment acceptance back in 1965, we would have been enraged by what we would have seen as the ability of the powerful to co-opt everyone. What was that line from ‘It’s all right, Ma’? I seem to recall it is ‘One who sang with his tongue on fire now gargles in the rat-race choir’.
Yet we would have been wrong. The truth is that the white-tie establishment have more or less adopted the ideas in ‘Hard Rain’, and have certainly adopted those in ‘Blowing in the Wind’. Or at the very least they think they have.
For instance, the modern pseudo-pacifist fury at the atrocities, alleged or actual, of outcast regimes, is the nearest a lot of secular liberals get to real, fire-and-brimstone moral passion. They aren’t allowed to disapprove of anything they themselves do, or that their neighbours do. And all domestic crimes, even including rape and murder and racism, are subject to the liberal Code of Excuses, under which the perpetrators aren’t entirely responsible for what they do, owing to poverty, bad housing, bad parenting or some other thing they couldn’t control.
But a foreign despot who can be accused of atrocities, now there at last is an outlet for all the things the modern liberal needs to feel but can’t. The modern liberal can hate, can rage, can denounce, can demand long prison sentences or even look tactfully the other way if the said despot is actually hanged, and in public too. Remember Saddam? I didn’t see the abolitionists making much of a fuss about that? In fact he can indulge almost all the illicit pleasures of the lynch mob, while still feeling wholly civilised.
Could this explain the performance of the USA’s ambassador to the United Nations, Samantha Power, who speaks (without producing any evidence that I can see) of ‘atrocities’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tBFCRNm-zyY and compares events in Aleppo to Halabja, Srbrenica the Rwanda genocide.
WE shall see which will endure. Ms Power’s denunciation, or the retort of the Russian ambassador, Vitaly Churkin, who said Ambassador Power had constructed her statement ‘as if she were Mother Teresa’, mentioned the West’s role in fomenting the Syrian war, and added ‘Please remember what country you represent. Remember your own country’s record before you start opining from the position of moral or any other kind of supremacy. History and God will judge who is guilty of what.’
The world turns upside down and inside out. Bejewelled monarchs applaud anti-authority subversive songs. The United States, no longer the villains of Vietnam, now thunders against the alleged atrocities of others. The Masters of War, in the Pentagon and the State Department, have now become the Protest Song Army, strumming away about the wickedness of brutal dictators.
As I listened to this exchange, this verse from ‘My Back Pages’ seemed to have some relevance. ‘Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth, "rip down all hate!" I screamed. Lies that life is black and white spoke from my skull, I dreamed. Romantic facts of musketeers foundation’d deep, somehow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now’.