Mick Hartley

The death of Suze Rotolo (my post here) has produced a remarkable range of comment on Dylan-related websites….as you'd expect, I suppose, for someone of such significance in Dylan's early New York life. Check out Expecting Rain for their links over the past couple of days. Even CiF weigh in. And the Times have an editorial on her this morning.

I mentioned that Suze, in her memoirs, avoided any digs at Dylan, or any titillating revelations, despite the way that he'd used her in his work. This piece reminded me of some of the details. The two most obvious songs about her are Don't Think Twice It's Alright and Ballad in Plain D. [Boots of Spanish Leather hardly counts. It may have been inspired by her leaving for a trip round Europe, but there's nothing really to tie her to the lyrics. It's an object lesson on how these things should be done. And a beautiful song as well.] 

From Don't Think Twice:

I once loved a woman, a child I am told
I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul.

Not very nice for Suze, certainly. She might have thought – she very likely did think – hmm, I don't know about wanting his soul, but a little less sleeping around behind my back with the likes of Joan Baez would have been nice. But, well, it is a great song.

Ballad in Plain D, though….no, that isn't a great song. Not at all. I'd forgotten quite how bad it is. It may be his worst. Even the man himself admitted it wasn't very good. "It was a mistake to record it and I regret it." Not only does it go on and on for over eight minutes in a slow dirge-like drone (based, we are told, on the traditional Irish folk song I Once Loved a Lass), but the schoolboy-poetry-style lyrics are quite specific: 

I once loved a girl, her skin it was bronze
With the innocence of a lamb, she was gentle like a fawn
I courted her proudly, but now she is gone
Gone as the season she's taken.

Through young summer's breeze, I stole her away
From her mother and sister, though close did they stay
Each one of them suffering from the failures of their day
With strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us.

Of the two sisters, I loved the young
With sensitive instincts, she was the creative one
The constant scapegoat, she was easily undone
By the jealousy of others around her.

For her parasite sister, I had no respect
Bound by her boredom, her pride to protect
Countless visions of the other she'd reflect
As a crutch for her scenes and her society.

That's just the start. There's lots more. On it goes, and on. If that was the stuff that made it through into the finished song, I'd hate to see what he scrumpled up and tossed in the bin as he sat up in the small hours, chewing on his pencil, re-living those tawdry and humiliating domestic confrontations. Maybe:

There were two sisters, so I had to choose,
But I knew straight away it was going to be Suze.
With her sultry complexion and tight-fitting sweater,
She was the one that I got to know better.

But she tried to tame me, to tie me right down
while I'm making my name as a man about town.
Man, these chicks and their families moan and they cry. 
I'm an artist! Don't they know? Normal rules don't apply.

Perhaps renowned Dylanologist AJ Weberman, who was reputed to search through Dylan's garbage, could enlighten us someday.

So, no, it can't have been easy being Suze Rotolo: Dylan's first muse.