Musings from the man behind Highway 61 Revisited and Rough and Rowdy Ways will most definitely be in high demand. Bob Dylan is projected by fans and contemporaries alike as one of the great lyricists of his time. A Nobel Prize-winning writer, yet despite that, there is little of that marked quality in The Philosophy of Modern Song, a book that details 66 select tracks. What reason they have for appearing within this bulky book beyond that of Dylan picking them is unknowable. Pairing Dylan’s knowledge of music with that of his thoughts on popular tracks from his own life, but with little expansion on what the mega fans will already pretend they know.
At the core then, The Philosophy of Modern Song must note itself as an interesting read. It is vaguely so. Very light, very brief musings that would barely last a page should the font be in proper order. Visuals abound, this is half picture book, half distant ramblings from a seasoned veteran of the music industry. Dylan is aware of his presence with fans and actively rejects his reputation. Muttered musings on already-known backstories with the likes of Perry Como and Elvis Costello. Each entry boils down to core essentials that see Dylan throw out synonyms for what the song makes him think, an abrupt and brief history stretched over the page and no real comment on its place in either his life or that of the listener beyond the pages. To expect The Philosophy of Modern Song to be a personal account is a fool’s errand, but to engage with it in the hopes of having any form of new detail or experience appears just as foolhardy.
Under the guise of legend, Dylan takes aim at what constitutes a family (if you don’t have kids, you’re just “friends with benefits and insurance coverage”) and the holiness of polygamy. These often incomplete thoughts range from anywhere from a few pages to barely half a paragraph. Stretching the book out is the imagery, not conjured by Dylan but by the propped-up stocks and album covers littered throughout. Do they engage in any form with the writing around it? Not particularly. For the nodding dogs of the fandom, whatever Dylan prattles out is going to have context and mystery, intrigue and desire placed upon it. That comes not from his words, especially not in The Philosophy of Modern Song, but from individual interpretation. This is a book of interpretations, fairly obvious ones at that. His interpretation of song, sometimes followed by an unhinged ramble and then three images to stretch the pages, is a theme spread across the book.
Disjointed ramblings from the man who holds power over millions with his words, The Philosophy of Modern Song gets to no point or conclusion featured in the title. Whether any of this is seriously what Dylan believes is unknowable. He keeps the shroud up and his guard higher, and to that end he reveals nothing. Dylan is aware that many reading his book will take his word as gospel. His influence is that far and mighty for people, and to have him not tarnish his reputation, but completely disregard it, is truly the funniest part of this non-book entity. A masterclass from Dylan, but that is what he was expecting his audience and critics to think anyway. To release this as Nick Cave puts out his beautiful, touching and moving piece, Faith, Hope and Carnage are to realise Dylan is a man who has no want or need to be honest with those that praise him for his openness.
