Maybe it is misery, or perhaps the connections to independence guided by the tone Idiot Wind has, but the venom Bob Dylan spouts on this Blood on the Tracks A-Side closer is a call to arms. A reactive, rage-induced song where the clarity of his words is more impressive than his writing. Armed with nothing more than anger, Dylan puts together one of his greatest tracks on an album influenced by a need to break from the relationships found in his life. He may disagree, referring to the works of Anton Chekov as the basis for Blood on the Tracks, but the hyperreal Idiot Wind stands tall. Fifty years on from Blood on the Tracks’ release, Idiot Wind still stands out, a song moved and refined by the harsh fallout of two people. Paranoia is the core of this one, and we can learn a thing or two from it.
Those opening bars, the realisation that someone “has it in for me,” and a detailed account of what can be done, is a masterstroke. Deny it or not, the song is at least tinged with a sense of autobiographical concept. Dylan may deny this in Chronicles but he would deny anything which gave his music a depth of mystique to it, and rightly so. Idiot Wind is a bitter track, one we can learn from and apply to our lives. Dylan does not adapt the specifics, to do so would be to make a narrative. No. What Dylan does is far sharper and plays into the longer form, as expressed by the legend Barbara O’Dair, of musical synchronicity. Hindsight plays a big factor in this but we are given the before, during and after effects of a love burning far too bright.
Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands from Blonde on Blonde provides a dominant tribute to some figure in Dylan’s life while Idiot Wind tears it all down. Those narrative stylings are further cemented by Desire track, Sara. Is it detailing his ex-wife? Dylan would say no. Idiot Wind would say yes. This is heartbreak at its most venomous and insulting. A perfect song which deals a horrific blow against someone Dylan believes has betrayed him. Whether it is about Sara Lowndes or not is irrelevant, whatever caused the storm of this Blood on the Tracks rip is a message worth listening to. Idiot Wind at its most basic is a song of heartbreak. A chance for Dylan to sift through the pieces and make peace with an anger which burns throughout. By the end, he has made his peace, but it is a necessary moment of fury.
What Idiot Wind provides listeners, even now, is a need to get the craze over with. To rake over the little details which now feel futile, irrelevant to the heart. Not because they did not happen but because they are no longer something to emotionally rely on. They are moments which are now categorised as memories. Those letters and press clippings which prevail in the start and end of the song hint at some comfort which is no longer available. Memories is what they are. Those moments which are “makin’ me see stars” remain as such, but the dizzying headache it now causes is a new layer to what was once a happy thought. Exorcise those from your system not to move on but to make good on what was once a comfort.
To have that swiped away is to feel the undoing of a person. When love is that sincere or dominant, as it is for the tamed lion Dylan refers to here, then it takes some time to get over. Writing one of the greatest songs of all time is certainly a way of getting over things. But what of the everyman? The person who cannot work up their own Blood on the Tracks. Take solace in the bitterness, in the satisfaction of never quite getting over it. Because to get over something is to realise there was no justification for the raging passions in the first place. There are additional layers for Dylan to maintain here, the personal tragedy still the roaring core of Idiot Wind, which likens itself to everything from inhumane circus cattle to religious heresy. Allusions to the Vietnam War can also be found but they do not feel like a commentary on the warfare itself but a chance for Dylan to assert himself as being in a similar pain to the grieving which comes from combat.
Idiot Wind certainly sounds like a man at war. He identifies his other half, the former flame, as a “howling beast.” Even then, he sees himself in this other character, a reflection of some sacred line he just could not cross. It opens up the “what if…” of Idiot Wind well. Accept bitterness. It is the shot of inspiration which, more often than not, opens the mind up to new experiences which are better than the memories we hold so dear. Everyone has (hopefully) one of those former flames. The struggle to move on, to extinguish it, is all part of the acceptance and dread for the future. Acceptance is at the end of this particular track.
Because despite the bitterness, the name-calling and the brilliant line of the eponymous Idiot Wind “blowing through your teeth,” is an acceptance of harm on either side. Those final notes of contemplation after the fury has relinquished hold on the mind are the sobering realisations any sound mind would make. “You’ll never know the hurt I suffered / Nor the pain I rise above / And I’ll never know the same about you.” Bitterness, yes. But apologetic, too. Such is the case of any fulfilled and excruciating experience with love. Idiot Wind is a masterclass in underlining how unique grieving a lost love can be. All the bluster gives way and the final line is one of dismay. How can you go on without it? Without what is so clearly hated? Bitterness is the shot inspiration because it asks us what we want next, and what we plan on doing once liberating ourselves of what we perceive as annoying or futile. But there is no answer to that, the emptiness to follow is no respite.
