If I was about ten years older, I would probably remember this song coming out in 1965. Instead I heard it years later – but it’s one of my favourite Dylan songs.
It’s unusual for not being on any of his studio albums, having come out as a single (the follow-up to Like A Rolling Stone) in between those two great albums, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde On Blonde.
I think the lyrics relate to the grief he got from his neighbours in Greenwich Village for moving away from his traditional folk roots in the mid-Sixties, the title referring to a folk club on West 4th St – the location of that iconic Freewheelin’ album cover.
I walked down that street once to visit another musician, Justin Townes Earle, in a brownstone that, as I recall, his father – Steve Earle – had bought precisely because of the Dylan connection.
I’ve never met Dylan myself but I saw him play several times in the Nineties – at Hammersmith Odeon, Brixton Academy, the Fleadh in Finsbury Park and a festival in Japan – and again in Hyde Park two years ago.
The closest we came to meeting was when we shared a backstage area at a big outdoor festival in a deer park in Nara, the ancient capital of Japan, in 1993. It’s fair to say he didn’t mingle with the other artists, who included Joni Mitchell and INXS.
One of the handful of fellow hacks – I think it was Danny Kelly, now a radio presenter – braved the security surrounding Bob to knock on his portakabin door and procure a prized autograph.
I missed out on that, but the next day, when I was sitting on the grass waiting for Bob to come onstage, a bloke with an Aussie accent brought me a cold beer and asked if I minded him joining me for Dylan’s set. Which was how I met Michael Hutchence.
During that festival we also met a girl who had enjoyed the pleasure of meeting Dylan in a more intimate way. She gave a deeply disparaging account of their brief encounter, which has unfortunately stayed with me.
About the only repeatable part was that he insisted on keeping his anorak on throughout, and was in need of a good wash. But no one needs to know that on his birthday.
Happy 80th birthday Bob!