From Karen to Bob. I'll probably write a fair bit about John Niven's 33 1/3 book Music From Big Pink a fictionalised account of the recording of The Band's first album which I'm reading at the minute. It's a highly evocative and highly impressivr read in many respects. Here's a paragraph about suddenly finding yourself in Dylan's company:
'People redistributed their weight when Dylan came into a room. You saw them shift their footing, cross their legs, press back in their chairs. Or slip a hand into their back pockets, nod harder at something that was being said, suck more air than they needed into their lungs and laugh harder than the jokes deserved. A lot of people found real interesting marks on the carpet, fascinating spots on the walls, and cool reflections in their drinks, but if you looked you'd have seen he had on a blue cotton shirt, cream pants and brown moccasins. His hair was short and neatly backcombed and he was squinting behind wire-rimmed glasses. From where I was sitting, cutting your hair, having kids, and going to bed at night looked like a good thing, man. I mean Dylan looked healthy and fresh, nothing like the wired wreck from a year or so ago, the guy in Howard's documentary.'
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