Michael Bloomfield got his first guitar from his grandfather’s pawnshop and wound up jamming alongside Bob Dylan at Newport in 1965.
Bob Dylan didn’t exactly grow up to be Shlomo Carlebach. But he never strayed too far from his roots, nor did he deny them, writes Seth Rogovoy.
“Well, the neighborhood bully, he’s just one man.”
This is by no means a “jukebox musical”; it has more in common with some of Dylan’s more impressionistic forays into film.
“Bon Jovi beat sperm, ladies and gentlemen!”
Dylan meets Kesha.
As quick as Dylan was to adopt the blanket of Christianity in song and onstage, he was equally quick to drop it. But the prophetic impulse remained.”
“It’s shocking, crushing news. I thought the world of Tom. He was a great performer, full of the light, a friend, and I’ll never forget him.”
Had I been eating soup when I saw the cover of this week’s farewell issue of the Village Voice, I would have spit up.
Bomb threats, a frozen Kotel compromise, Zionists banned from pride parades, neo-Nazis rising and hurricanes hitting—not a good year for the Jews.