Bob Dylan's handwritten lyrics for "Like a Rolling Stone" have sold for $2.045 million, a world record for a popular music manuscript."
It's "the only known surviving draft of the final lyrics," with some edited-out stuff like "dry vermouth/You'll tell the truth" and something about Al Capone.
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14 comments:
It you're interested in an artist, and you're interested in the art, then seeing the work in progress is interesting. But I wouldn't pay for it.
On the other hand, I'd pay for one of my guitar heroes actual guitars. But only if I liked the way it felt and sounded.
I'd love love love to see the worksheet for Positively 4th Street.
Writing words is hard.
My favorite is still rhyming 'outrageous' with 'contagious' on Isis.
I don't think that lyric sheet would collect a couple of million though.
Missiles in Cuba,
Someone play a tuba.
That comes out to $4778 per word (of the final lyrics).
Expensive "collectables" hold no appeal for me at all. I mean, there are a lot of artifacts (including the handwritten lyrics) that I think are cool and I'd like to own, but the thought of paying more than something's intrinsic value because it has some special history doesn't compute.
""The lyrics show Dylan's attempts to build a rhyme off of the 'How does it feel' line with phrases like, 'it feels real,' 'does it feel real,' 'get down and kneel,' 'raw deal' and 'shut up and deal.'""
"How does it feeeeeel
To hear a talentless screeching schlemieeeeeel?"
Something along those lines would have worked.
I don't like to look behind the curtain.
But I wouldn't mind suffering the same lack of talent as Dylan.
I always like "studied the lines of her face" rhyming with "bent down to tie the lace
s of my shoe"
Anybody want a peanut?
Commenting on the Wrong Post Drunk Guy says:
I was walking down the street dressed as a woman when a suburban feral youth tried to steal my purse -- my purse of magical mystical multi-colored penises! I stepped hard on the side of his ankle and he fell to the ground crying, as a multitude of colored phallic representations scattered rainbow across the asphalt with no organization of length or girth. "Is this what you want?" I yelled as I forced a yellow thin penis into his mouth -- "Is this what you want?" He gurgled "Fleh" which I interpreted as him wanting the purple plastic penis to be inserted into his ass. "Fleh" he cried, inch by inch.
"'d love love love to see the worksheet for Positively 4th Street."
What was that all about anyway?
"Anybody want a peanut?"
Don't know why, but that was LOL
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