Beatles · Bob Dylan · Nobel Prize · Pink Floyd

The Nobel Prize finally rocks

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When did news of a Nobel Prize in Literature make the headlines in India, much less the front page? News, that an obscure poet from Azerbaijan or a mystical writer of stream of consciousness novellas from Inner Mongolia or a revolutionary author from Paraguay had won the Nobel prize in Literature, was generally tucked away in a corner of Indian newspapers.

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Dylan’s Nobel sidelined all other political, economic and other news.

Bod Dylan has brought glamour to the staid Nobel. In turn, he will now attain commercial success to a degree that he could never having conceived of achieving. There will be release of his unpublished material, slickly packaged re-releases of his past hits,  movies, TV and YouTube documentaries etc etc ad nauseum.

But then this opens the gates for awarding this hitherto stodgy award to other rock musicians (I don’t see Pop Music aspiring for this sort of recognition. Consider Abba’s “Honey Honey”:

Honey honey, how you thrill me, ah-hah, honey honey
Honey honey, nearly kill me, ah-hah, honey honey
I’d heard about you before
I wanted to know some more
And now I know what they mean, you’re a love machine
Oh, you make me dizzy)

However, hear  John Lennon’s fervent plea in “Imagine”:

Imagine there’s no countries                                    (No North Korea or Pakistan)
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too                                                       (No 26/11, Syria or Iraq)
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace… You…
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Or Roger Waters’ existential angst in “Time”:

Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you’re older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines

The race to Nobility is a “Long and Winding Road” but now open……

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