Sometime in the mid 1960s a good friend introduced me to the music of a young folksinger from the Midwest. His songs changed my view of the world. They transported me from the backstreets of Leicester to the poverty and racial strive in American cities and the Deep South. They helped me understand that there was inequality everywhere and that it was right to take a stand against it. They taught me of love and loss. For almost 60 years they have been the soundtrack of my life.
Last week, Vishva and I went to London to see that singer from the Midwest in concert at the Palladium. Like me he is now an old man. But his music still transcends the generations and talks to many. It sometimes borders on the sublime. Where he once sang of youth and anger, he now sings of ageing and the inevitability of death. His body is frail but his voice is strong. Every time I see him I fear it might be the last. I hope not.
And the boy who introduced me to him. He is still my best friend. He has done many things over the years to enrich my life. Introducing me to Dylan was just one of them. That friendship that began in Leicester in 1960s continues still. I hope that it too never ends.
Thank you Malc.
Love,
Tom
tommurtha 