In September 1964, almost 45 years ago, I saw Bob Dylan at Town Hall Philadelphia. Here's the set he played. A skinny young guy, dressed in black, by himself on the stage, with just his guitar and harmonica ("Like a Rolling Stone" was still a year away). In that era between the beatniks and the hippies, Dylan was the epitome of cool, and for the first and last time in my life I was, in that crowd, at the cutting edge of the avant-garde.
Today there's this story about Dylan being picked up by the cops in New Jersey. The part of the story that caught my eye, or cut me to the quick, depending on how you look at it, was this: "[Residents of a home for sale] called the police after spotting an 'eccentric-looking old man' wandering around their front yard. It was pouring rain, and the man was alone, looking haggard and lost."
Yikes. I guess I really am getting old.
Here's a video from about that time: