Bob Dylan Wins Nobel Prize for Literature!

[nathanb]

So what you are saying is that you do not consider lyric poetry a form of literature. OK.

I mean, yeah, I get that if I'm a Nobel Prize committee member, and I really like Bob Dylan's lyrics, but there's not a major category for song lyrics... I suppose I might be compelled to say "well, maybe we could give him a prize for like, literature... or physics... or anything, because words are subjective, man".

Unfortunately, I would not do this personally, because I have some notion of personal shame.

[Maestro267]

There should be no debate here. Written lyrics without music are poetry, end of. And poetry is literature, end of. Composers have set words to music since time immemorial. It is possible to compose entirely new music for an already-established set of lyrics. Just look at John Corigliano, who set 7 of Bob Dylan's poems for soprano and orchestra without having prior heard the original musical settings.

[Florestan]

Dario Fo, the italian playwright died yesterday. He received the Nobel prize in 1997. There was lots of hoopla and protests at the time, including - mainly, in fact - from his native Italy. An iconoclast who despised institutions

He despised institutions yet he gladly accepted a sizeable amount of money from one such institution.

[Gurn Blanston]

The world needs more talkin' blues. This was probably a prototype for 'Alice's Restaurant Massacree'

Some Dylan you won't hear just everywhere.

Talkin' Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues

I saw it advertised one day
Bear Mountain picnic was comin' my way
"Come along 'n' take a trip
We'll bring you up there on a ship
Bring the wife and kids
Bring the whole family"
Yippee!

Well, I run right down 'n' bought a ticket
To this Bear Mountain Picnic
But little did I realize
I was in for a picnic surprise
Had nothin' to do with mountains
I didn't even come close to a bear

Took the wife 'n' kids down to the pier
Six thousand people there
Everybody had a ticket for the trip
"Oh well," I said, "it's a pretty big ship
Besides, anyway, the more the merrier"

Well, we all got on 'n' what d'ya think
That big old boat started t' sink
More people kept a-pilin' on
That old ship was a-slowly goin' down
Funny way t' start a picnic

Well, I soon lost track of m' kids 'n' wife
So many people there I never saw in m' life
That old ship sinkin' down in the water
Six thousand people tryin' t' kill each other
Dogs a-barkin', cats a-meowin'
Women screamin', fists a-flyin', babies cryin'
Cops a-comin', me a-runnin'
Maybe we just better call off the picnic

I got shoved down 'n' pushed around
All I could hear there was a screamin' sound
Don't remember one thing more
Just remember wakin' up on a little shore
Head busted, stomach cracked
Feet splintered, I was bald, naked . . .
Quite lucky to be alive though

Feelin' like I climbed outa m' casket
I grabbed back hold of m' picnic basket
Took the wife 'n' kids 'n' started home
Wishin' I'd never got up that morn

Now, I don't care just what you do
If you wanta have a picnic, that's up t' you
But don't tell me about it, I don't wanta hear it
'Cause, see, I just lost all m' picnic spirit
Stay in m' kitchen, have m' own picnic . . .
In the bathroom

Now, it don't seem to me quite so funny
What some people are gonna do f'r money
There's a bran' new gimmick every day
Just t' take somebody's money away
I think we oughta take some o' these people
And put 'em on a boat, send 'em up to Bear Mountain . . .
For a picnic

[nathanb]

The world needs more talkin' blues. This was probably a prototype for 'Alice's Restaurant Massacree'

Some Dylan you won't hear just everywhere.

Talkin' Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues

I saw it advertised one day
Bear Mountain picnic was comin' my way
"Come along 'n' take a trip
We'll bring you up there on a ship
Bring the wife and kids
Bring the whole family"
Yippee!

Well, I run right down 'n' bought a ticket
To this Bear Mountain Picnic
But little did I realize
I was in for a picnic surprise
Had nothin' to do with mountains
I didn't even come close to a bear

Took the wife 'n' kids down to the pier
Six thousand people there
Everybody had a ticket for the trip
"Oh well," I said, "it's a pretty big ship
Besides, anyway, the more the merrier"

Well, we all got on 'n' what d'ya think
That big old boat started t' sink
More people kept a-pilin' on
That old ship was a-slowly goin' down
Funny way t' start a picnic

Well, I soon lost track of m' kids 'n' wife
So many people there I never saw in m' life
That old ship sinkin' down in the water
Six thousand people tryin' t' kill each other
Dogs a-barkin', cats a-meowin'
Women screamin', fists a-flyin', babies cryin'
Cops a-comin', me a-runnin'
Maybe we just better call off the picnic

I got shoved down 'n' pushed around
All I could hear there was a screamin' sound
Don't remember one thing more
Just remember wakin' up on a little shore
Head busted, stomach cracked
Feet splintered, I was bald, naked . . .
Quite lucky to be alive though

Feelin' like I climbed outa m' casket
I grabbed back hold of m' picnic basket
Took the wife 'n' kids 'n' started home
Wishin' I'd never got up that morn

Now, I don't care just what you do
If you wanta have a picnic, that's up t' you
But don't tell me about it, I don't wanta hear it
'Cause, see, I just lost all m' picnic spirit
Stay in m' kitchen, have m' own picnic . . .
In the bathroom

Now, it don't seem to me quite so funny
What some people are gonna do f'r money
There's a bran' new gimmick every day
Just t' take somebody's money away
I think we oughta take some o' these people
And put 'em on a boat, send 'em up to Bear Mountain . . .
For a picnic

We get it. You like his lyrics. Now show us a sample of this "literature" the prize is supposedly about.

[Gurn Blanston]

We get it. You like his lyrics. Now show us a sample of this "literature" the prize is supposedly about.

I warn't on the committee,
more's the pity.

Curious what your definition of literature is.
Mark Twain would'a called you names.
Not me though, I'm just glad to be here
Readin' pomes
And laughin' at the world.
(That portion which has a stick up its ass, that is)
Present company always excepted.

[North Star]

We get it. You like his lyrics. Now show us a sample of this "literature" the prize is supposedly about.

I met the Bishop on the road
And much said he and I.
`Those breasts are flat and fallen now
Those veins must soon be dry;
Live in a heavenly mansion,
Not in some foul sty.'

`Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul,' I cried.
'My friends are gone, but that's a truth
Nor grave nor bed denied,
Learned in bodily lowliness
And in the heart's pride.

`A woman can be proud and stiff
When on love intent;
But Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.'

Oh, that was Yeats, another winner of the Nobel Prize for Lyrics.

[Karl Henning]

The world needs more talkin' blues. This was probably a prototype for 'Alice's Restaurant Massacree'

Some Dylan you won't hear just everywhere.

Talkin' Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues

I saw it advertised one day
Bear Mountain picnic was comin' my way
"Come along 'n' take a trip
We'll bring you up there on a ship
Bring the wife and kids
Bring the whole family"
Yippee!

Well, I run right down 'n' bought a ticket
To this Bear Mountain Picnic
But little did I realize
I was in for a picnic surprise
Had nothin' to do with mountains
I didn't even come close to a bear

Took the wife 'n' kids down to the pier
Six thousand people there
Everybody had a ticket for the trip
"Oh well," I said, "it's a pretty big ship
Besides, anyway, the more the merrier"

Well, we all got on 'n' what d'ya think
That big old boat started t' sink
More people kept a-pilin' on
That old ship was a-slowly goin' down
Funny way t' start a picnic

Well, I soon lost track of m' kids 'n' wife
So many people there I never saw in m' life
That old ship sinkin' down in the water
Six thousand people tryin' t' kill each other
Dogs a-barkin', cats a-meowin'
Women screamin', fists a-flyin', babies cryin'
Cops a-comin', me a-runnin'
Maybe we just better call off the picnic

I got shoved down 'n' pushed around
All I could hear there was a screamin' sound
Don't remember one thing more
Just remember wakin' up on a little shore
Head busted, stomach cracked
Feet splintered, I was bald, naked . . .
Quite lucky to be alive though

Feelin' like I climbed outa m' casket
I grabbed back hold of m' picnic basket
Took the wife 'n' kids 'n' started home
Wishin' I'd never got up that morn

Now, I don't care just what you do
If you wanta have a picnic, that's up t' you
But don't tell me about it, I don't wanta hear it
'Cause, see, I just lost all m' picnic spirit
Stay in m' kitchen, have m' own picnic . . .
In the bathroom

Now, it don't seem to me quite so funny
What some people are gonna do f'r money
There's a bran' new gimmick every day
Just t' take somebody's money away
I think we oughta take some o' these people
And put 'em on a boat, send 'em up to Bear Mountain . . .
For a picnic

Yer gonna need a bigger boat.

[Reckoner]

Written lyrics without music are poetry, end of.

It should be noted what purpose lyrics are written for. In Bob's case, they're written to be sung to music. Without music, such lyrics are not necessarily self-sufficient, and they don't constitute poetry in isolation without the music simply because they are "written lyrics".

This is entirely different to a poet who composes a poem for the express purpose of having those words being read or recited, in order to express or convey meaning solely via the use of words.

[San Antone]

It should be noted what purpose lyrics are written for. In Dylan's case, they are written to be sung to music. Without music those lyrics are not necessarily self-sufficient, and they do not constitute poetry in isolation without music simply because they are "written lyrics".

This is entirely different to a poet who composes a poem for the express purpose of having those words being read or recited, in order to convey meaning solely via the use of words.

Ah, man give it a rest. 

I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you

Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is
To see you

[Reckoner]

Ah, man give it a rest. 

Eh, I thought I'd keep writing stuff here - I might win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

[Florestan]

Eh, I thought I'd keep writing stuff here - I might win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

If the current trends continue, in a few years we could see the Nobel Prize for Literature awarded to tweets. Why not?

It should be noted what purpose lyrics are written for. In Bob's case, they're written to be sung to music. Without music, such lyrics are not necessarily self-sufficient, and they don't constitute poetry in isolation without the music simply because they are "written lyrics".

This is entirely different to a poet who composes a poem for the express purpose of having those words being read or recited, in order to express or convey meaning solely via the use of words.

Spot on.

[North Star]

If the current trends continue, in a few years we could see the Nobel Prize for Literature awarded to tweets. Why not?

Which trends?

[Karl Henning]

If the current trends continue, in a few years we could see the Nobel Prize for Literature awarded to tweets. Why not?

If the tweets have as much merit as Dylan's work . . . .

[Florestan]

If the tweets have as much merit as Dylan's work . . . .

I guess it´s quite possible that a time will come when we´ll lament the good old days when Dylan received it...

[North Star]

So to whom would you have awarded it this year, Andrei?

[Florestan]

So to whom would you have awarded it this year, Andrei?

To a genuine writer who writes genuine books intended for genuine reading. Plenty of names they could have chosen from, some have already been mentioned.

[North Star]

Fair enough, although writing 'genuine books' as a requirement is a bit odd. Published in several languages is something I would appreciate in a laureate, certainly, but I don't see how 'books' (basically novels) are inherently better than novellas, short stories, poetry, or journalism.

[San Antone]

Fair enough, although writing 'genuine books' as a requirement is a bit odd. Published in several languages is something I would appreciate in a laureate, certainly, but I don't see how 'books' (basically novels) are inherently better than novellas, short stories, poetry, or journalism.

Or songs/albums ...

[North Star]

Or songs/albums ...

Quite.

I wonder if David Simon will win the prize for The Wire and Treme.