I like Bob Dylan. I really do. But often when I listen to his music I'm bitten by skepticism. Like this morning, hearing The Ballad of the Thin Man, which is typical of most of his songs, I think.
It revolves around a wonderful little haunting snippet of a melody with a single penetrating metaphor. (I call this the Andrew Lloyd Weber syndrome.)
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Unfortunately, I find the rest of this song completely ineffable, and I bet that Dylan had only a vague notion of what these bizarre ramblings might mean. They are like a drug-induced riff, where for a fleeting moment they make perfect sense to you, even resembling genius. But when the psychotropic influences subside, you can only scratch your head and try to recall. Perhaps his dedication should read: "Something was happening here, but I don't know what is was."
The entire song. Judge for yourself:
You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man ?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home.
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is ?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you says, "What's mine ?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is ?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone ?"
But something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak ?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone.
And something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations.
You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known.
But something is happening here
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan".
And you know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason ?"
And he says, "How ?"
And you say, "What does this mean ?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home".
Because something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones.
Does something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
And yet, I have 17 Dylan albums on iTunes, and usually at least 2-3 on my phone. Clearly something is happening here. I just don't know what it is.
