Recently I was trying to explain to the shrink about how I envied Dylan’s iconic not-giving-a-fuck and defiant belief in his own will. Very fairly, the shrink parried by mentioning that he’d seen plenty of terrible Dylan shows in which the dude sabotaged his band and urinated on his songs monochromatically (no blood-piss.) I had to admit that was true, and take his point that self-assurance is fair enough for a depressed person to covet, but not without its limitations.
Still, here’s Dylan in the must-see Don’t Look Back, playing games with whoever constituted the scene in the UK of that period and withstanding Donovan’s horseshite until it was time to play. He slurs these lines like every asshole’s lived them, at the top of his game and not so interested by that fact. This is immediately before the turn to electricity, and the film profiles a man desperately bored with the critical standing that Donovan, at least, would’ve sold his sandals for.