Let’s see, it was October 1983 and I was still in the Plimsouls, but we had come in from the road, and had wound down, and I was just knocking about, living alone in a tiny pad up in Laurel Canyon (in the same cottage the Melvins eventually moved into, after I split). I was writing songs for what was gonna be my first solo LP, and felt like I was on the moon, ’cause I was living at night, isolated, kinda living in my dreams & musical ideas, and I didn’t have to show up anywhere or for anything, it was woodshed time. It was a good time, I was 29 years old, freed up for the first time from a lot of things that had been bugging me. So I picked up the new Dylan LP at Tower on Sunset, and took it straight back home, and threw it on, and was completely transfixed by “Jokerman.” The first thing that got me about it was the Sly and Robbie groove, unlike anything I’d heard before: it’s not rock or reggae either, but something new, very open. As usual with a Dylan record you hear every word. He delivers
Thanks to Bob Dylan, on his 80th birthday for all the gifts he gave to us. Personally, I always feel like it’s Christmas on Earth (as Rimbaud coined it) when I experience Bob singing, speaking, writing, acting, painting and drawing, most whatever he does has been illuminating. I learned about American music and America itself. For me, time stopped when I heard Mr. Tambourine Man for the first time, and shortly after read “Folk-Rock: the Bob Dylan Story” in paperback, (which was very misleading in, but also enlightening in some ways.) By the time I was 14 I’d heard his first several albums, read the poems enclosed with the third album, 11 Outlined Epitaphs, started learning the songs in the Bob Dylan Songbook I received as a gift in 1966, listened over and over to HWY 61 through John Wesley Harding, then read Tarantula from a mimeograph while high on mescaline, and weeping, in 1971, in my first room away from home, with the Dont Look Back poster on the wall, hidden when the door opened, that movie, then companionship on the bank of sand Watching The River Flow, later the generational tale of Tangled Up In Blue, and
https://petercase.com/wp-content/uploads/03-Downtown-Nowheres-Blues.mp3 I was the lead singer of this band: From the Hamburg Sun, April 23, 1970 The Silent Minority ‘ Chaperones appear to be the silent minority at ‘ Hamburg High School dances: At the dance Friday, April 17, something unthinkable occurred. Vulgarity and obscenity. The first vulgar thing to assail the sight of the youthful patrons, was a sign on the bandstand. A middle finger upended. ‘ – Then, as the dance progressed, the group from Pleasant Ave. known as “The Pig Nation” began an audience participation “thing.” They said it was not unlike a Football cheer. It continued till a chant was yelling the most obscene four-letter word, concluded with the words “Hamburg High School.” Unbelievable. Yet, corroborated by nine reputable witnesses, who related this to Photo News. “They were high on grass,” was one absurd excuse. One can’t help but wonder if the recent breakdown in unity in the High School faculty could account for the breakdown in discipline. Why was this excused, condoned and unpunished. Where were the chaperones? T. A. Ehrnke, Publisher .
Here’s a Spotify playlist of some of my songs, as I get ready for my new album to be released March 12.
This is a live show from February 2020, a couple weeks before the quarantine. It’s an hour long and features interviews as well as the music.
the priest who never slept was our favorite you could talk to him he was always there alone smoking and writing equations on the board but poor Gaynel took her own life at sixteen and the little longhaired girl with glasses cried for her and got out of that stuck up school I never wanted to go that’s how we met in a suburban development with no trees called Forest Glen not far from the Thruway the priest had theories that’d scare you if you ever thought of ‘em and the little longhaired girl with glasses was very thin and very sad in the spring the snow was filthy still in melting piles shrinking the earth smelled like an open wound wet clay and rotten leaves trees still bare on Pleasant Avenue I smell the raindrops in her hair she’s my best friend and we both wear long coats. debris in the gutter broken plastic toys shreds of colorful garbage in the living room we watched he held a gun to the man’s head and blew his brains out everybody saw and soon a few minutes later the Beatles were somberly singing let it be.
For my old street singing buddy Crazy Horse Danny no reunions on stage for us/ the ‘Frozen Chosen” we never played much on stages anyways/ 1973 usually a streetcorner/ a telephone + a parking meter were all we needed to put on a show: a couple winos would glare red faced + itchy from the curbstones/ leaning on a letter box while the neon flashed/ + the headlights crashed/ the cop on the sidewalk/ sends for the paddywagon/ so we had to dash/ How is a life like this pieced together? You worked on the black market + fringe/ jobs like guarding the pot fields for the jungle growers in Hawaii/ hustles/ rock +roll cover bands for Honolulu tourists. Our secrets + dreams were looked up + mixed in poverty’s ferocious history/ always one step in back// so if we get weak/ too lonely/or drunk on cheap fireworks. If his eyes are swollen from a brawl on Broadway/ with usurpers who had the nerve to pull a swithchblade/ Danny reached into the the trash bin + pulled out a weapon: a coke bottle/ one of the ones made of glass/ boink! boink! boink! on the guys head the fight then
Who you stood up to while your back ached yr heart beat yr breath galloped yr heartbeat doubled—he got next to me & I could see murder in his eyes—I know he wanted to teach me a lesson—he ordered me to “sit down” in a chair he threw into the middle of the room—he was going to terrorize me & I ran—he couldn’t catch me & I hid—soon after that I began to stand up to him—I stopped running & turned around & he wept—courage is off the heart—its not just resistance but resistance for a heart-felt cause—we never discussed the heart—I did a lot of things OTHER people are scared of—did they take courage? I know I’ve shown some but I also suspect my cowardice—you have to know your heart to defeat cowardice—you gotta believe—standing up to a beating—I’ve never been good at but I kept my terror in check a couple times—they say what I did took courage—but I don’t know only the individual knows about themselves—Lord Jim—hitch hiking when I was a kid? say what you gotta say—do what you gotta do—fear is always there but “take
Tour dates: www.petercase.com/gigs summertime the stillness at the crossroads all you hear is the signal box knocking as the light turns & turns—headlights & taillights red & blocks away the cities still alive but it’s somewhere else it’s late—a deep conversation sitting on the curb elbows on the grass there’s still a couple places open—July & the air is sweet the temperature of skin—“the night is ours but the day belongs to God”—we’re staying out all night—it’s not a bad thing—there ain’t no trouble but I don’t wanna go back—I don’t wanna go in—love ain’t a sin—no matter where ya begin—the street lights—the curbstones—the cars roll by—there’s nowhere else that’s right for us but out here on the street—stayin’ out all night—later on spinning records in her room—forever changes & avalon—walking home before the birds start singing—July is the one in the middle of the summer & the night before you know it—I’m in love with you—we’ve got to be free—stayin’ out all night & there was another song that complained about me—but I’ve got to be free—it’s the way that I see—stayin’ out all night—the morning has a charge—a change. clip above filmed by The Dark Bob
10 comments
Yeah … you need to write part 2 of this.
“Jokerman” is brilliant. I agree that in some perverse sense it’s autobiographical, and at the same time it’s also about the most sinister diabolic presence you can imagine. (I certainly had lines from the song running through my head during the administration of our most recent ex-president.) But in the end trying to figure out what the song “means” is a fool’s errand; Dylan will always slither away from anyone who tries to confine him that way. To me what matters is how the song gives us words for things we can’t make sense of. I feel the same way about “Sweetheart Like You,” which is similarly cryptic and similarly inspired. The line about the most beautiful woman crawling across cut glass to make a deal, and the whole stanza about patriotism — how can you come up with words that perfect?
Peter Case Totally Folking Rocks! 🥁🎹🎸🎤❤️
Absolutely nailed PC , this track defies belief and I rate it in his top 10 (maybe top 5) . How on earth did he come up with this (on a Caribbean holiday on a boat apparently) – the imagery and wordplay Not forgetting the guitar lines of both Knopfler and especially Mick Taylor (mixed in the background but you can hear).
Well, it’s great, a beautiful intriguing song…
I stumbled on this piece by accident, having been a fan of PC for many years, but never having read any of his prose. I’m not going to let that oversight continue, rest assured. Peter’s commentary on the occasion of Bob’s 80th was remarkable, it’s both personal and universal.
Just great Peter, your take on BD is more clear to me than he is, at first. it always took me at least a few listens to really HEAR it, to catch what he is saying, unlike his early stuff, which knocked you/me over when he sang/said it! Will have to check your book out, thanks…
Good to hear from you Mark. I’m listening to one his new ones now, Key West. I don’t know what he’s on about, tho it reminds me of what I knew of the place as a refuge for outlaws and bohemians in the 1970s. It’s been a rough year and I appreciate that he showed up for it…best wishes, MR
I myself have always been asked to tell, or write, the relationship between my father and I…Growing up as a jazz musicians son, one who lived with Charlie Parker, (or rather he lived with us), on the day I was born (5-15-51)…But I always shied against it, for so many reasons I really don’t know now. Embarrassment, I don’t know why as most people that know about Red Rodney and me already know it’s a dirty story, but also one of great love and respect…If i’m gonna do it I better hurry, I think I’m a few years older than you Peter!
No time like the present. I’m working on a book and a batch of songs…everyday out there hammering up boards lol…tell yr tory man don’t worry about who’ll be listening: there will be listeners! Hey, I knew about you before I knew about Red…