Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan, (nacido con el nombre de Robert Allen Zimmerman el 24 de mayo de 1941 en Duluth, Minnesota, Estados Unidos) es un cantautor estadounidense, autor, músico y poeta. Ha sido, durante cinco décadas, una de las mayores figuras en la música contemporánea, siendo considerado uno de los compositores y músicos más influyentes y prolíficos del siglo XX.[1] Muchos de los más célebres trabajos de Dylan datan de la década de los 1960s, cuando se convirtió en un cronista informal y un reacio testaferro de los conflictos estadounidenses. Algunas de sus canciones, como "Blowin' in the Wind" y "The Times They Are a-Changin'", se convirtieron en himnos antibélicos y de los movimientos civiles de aquella época.[2] Su más reciente disco de estudio, "Modern Times", lanzado el 29 de agosto de 2006, debutó en las listas estadounidenses en el #1, convirtiéndolo, a los 65 años de edad, en la persona de mayor edad en alcanzar esta posición.[3] Más tarde fue nombrado como El Álbum del Año por la revista Rolling Stone.[4] Las primeras letras de Dylan contenían temas sociales, filosóficos e influencia literaria, desafiando la música pop convencional existente y apelando generalmente a la contracultura de aquel tiempo. Mientras expandía y personalizaba estilos musicales, mostraba una firme devoción por muchas tradiciones de la música americana, de folk y country/blues a gospel, rock and roll y rockabilly, a música folk inglesa, escosesa e irlandesa, inclusive jazz y swing.[5][6]

Letra de Ballad Of A Thin Man
You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you, you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you will say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"

But something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone

And something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

Ah, you been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You are very well read
It's well known

But something is happening here
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan"

And you know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason?"
And he says, "How?"
And you say, "What does this mean?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"

And you know something's happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There oughta be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones

'Cause something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

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