TABLE OF CONTENTS
BOB DYLAN LINKS
MY OTHER SITES:
WWW.FOLKARCHIVE.DE
UNDER CONSTRUCTION
HISTORY IN SONG
WOODY GUTHRIE
DOC WATSON
JANIS JOPLIN
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110 MacDougal Street, Greenwich Village,
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Izzy Young at the Folklore Center.
Any copyrighted material on these pages is used in "fair use", for the purpose of study, review or critical analysis only, and will be removed at the request of copyright owner(s). Audio files are DELIBERATELY encoded "low-fi" to enable faster streaming and are intended as "illustrations" and "appetizers" only. Official and "hi-fi" recordings can (and should) be purchased at your local record dealer or through a number of web-based companies, like CDNow.
J. R. GODDARD:
A little over a year ago a rather short, peripatetic young man, his beardless, aqualine face crowned by an old cap, wandered into lzzy Young's Folklore Center on MacDougal Street. Picking up an autoharp, he began mumbling a song about some bloke named Captain Gray. People looked on in amusement as he began hopping around a bit. He was funny to watch and anybody with half an ear could tell he had a unique style. But few could have guessed on that wintry Sunday morning that a real enfant terrible had arrived on the folk music scene—or that within a single year he would emerge as one of the most gifted and unusual entertainers in the whole country.
The singer is Bobby Dylan. Ample proof of his talent can be heard in an LP just issued by Columbia Records under the direction of the famed John Hammond.
Village Voice, Apr 26, 1962,
reprinted in Carl Benson (ed.), The Bob Dylan Companion, New York, 1998, pp. 12-13.
JIM ROONEY:
It wasn't a a very big place -- a couple of narrow rooms strung together. The records and books were out front. There were instruments on the walls, and there were a lot of people generally milling around.... Izzy was on the phone.... I don't know how, but we somehow got into conversation.... Soon he was grilling us about what was going on up in Cambridge. He'd been getting reports from people like Barry Kornfield [sic] and Bob Dylan. As a matter of fact, did we know Dylan? No, we didn't. He said, "Come here. He's back here." With that we went into the back room, and there was Dylan sitting at a cluttered desk, banging away on a typewriter.... He immediately handed me a bunch of sheets with songs on them. I mean a bunch. He was writing like a man possessed. His feet were bouncing up and down as he talked. He was on fire.
Eric von Schmidt and Jim Rooney, Baby, Let Me Follow You Down, Garden City, 1979, p. 129
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