It’s been a long and frustrating journey getting this album realised. Thank goodness, I’m nearly there – just need to get the CD copied and printing  done. But will it all be worth it? Will anyone care? As someone in the music/publishing business told me many years ago – the creative side is the fun bit.  There must be thousands of great musicians (writers, artists, etc) who fall by the wayside, not because they’re less talented than those who make it but simply for reasons of logistics, bad luck or cock-ups, and so on. The number of renowned authors, for example, who get rejected – sometimes hundreds of times – before achieving success is depressingly huge. Why? Who knows? Maybe, partly anyway, because there’s  very limited  space at the top.

This photo, by the way, was taken by one of my students (a fifteen year old excluded lad with a long rap sheet but really a nice kid but from a shit home) in Birtley, Gateshead. It’s a genuine café and shop called Mr Baker’s.

I was lucky to be introduced to Bob Dylan’s first album by a friend back in 1962. Since then I’ve bought most of his work in one form or another, including several bootlegs. I’ve also seen him play live a few times (not always a great experience). I’ve always recognised that, like anyone, he has his faults but, in my humble opinion, is still the best singer-songwriter of the past fifty years.

So I got Suze Rotolo’s memoir of her early life in New York, focusing especially on her time as Bob Dylan’s girlfriend (the one on ‘The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan’), hoping for some insights into the great man. I suppose I didn’t learn anything new but had suspicions confirmed. He wasn’t, it turns out, very honest or trustworthy as a person (though Suze was as much in awe of his talent as anyone else). Dylan was, she says, “funny, engaging, intense, and he was persistent. These words completely describe who he was throughout the time we were together; only the order of the words would shift depending on mood or circumstance.” As his fame grew he also became paranoid and critical of others she says, and; ‘People close to me felt I was defending his bad behaviour, but I saw things in another light, even though I was more than grateful for their loyalty to me. Yeah, he was a lying shit of a guy with women, an adept juggler, really; and when he was on his ‘’telling it like it is’’ truth mission, he could be cruel.’

Despite this, Rotolo is, on the whole, more than generous to Dylan. They were very much in love but, after all, were also young and under great pressure from fans, friends, family, the media and public expectations generally. It was a doomed relationship, but nevertheless each acknowledged its inspirational importance for both of them. Many of Dylan’s early songs came directly out of this affair (he was, in effect, dumped although was probably also having flings with other people, e.g. Joan Baez).

As Suze says several times in her book, Bob Dylan is (was) a remarkable person with many gifts, but not a reliable friend or lover. No surprise. Of course, none of that makes him a bad songwriter. Indeed, considering what a genius he is (or, as many people have said), it’s surprising he wasn’t more of a shit.

I may be an amazing and talented singer-songwriter but until my genius is recognised still need to earn a living. I do this by working as a home tutor, teaching teenagers who’re out of school, usually for medical or behavioural reasons. Despite the reports of past misdemeanours including violence towards staff and fellow students, possession of weapons and drugs, insolence, indolence and truancy, etc, most excluded kids (usually teenage boys) are no trouble to teach on a one-to-one basis. The incidents causing exclusion are usually months past and, even if not remorseful, the lads are often bored and reasonably receptive to a little educational diversion so long as no real effort is required.

Compared with full-time class teaching the job is a doddle, though it has its frustrations (mostly when students are late or don’t turn up at all). The majority have learning problems – some quite severe – low self esteem and difficulty concentrating or making an effort. They have learnt from experience and poor parenting that success through conventional channels is unlikely and therefore see academic attempts as pointless. They also know that one can live reasonably well on benefits plus odd jobs on the black economy or a little thieving, so why try for anything else?

On the plus side, many of these kids are resilient and resourceful. They often have some amusing, if sometimes pathetic, tales to tell. One lad recently told me he wanted to be a ‘scrapper’ when he left school – in other words, nicking copper and lead for scrap. Another boy told me how his favourite occupation was breaking into sheds to steal tools, etc. On one occasion he took a motorbike and was only apprehended after trying to sell it round the corner to another lad who recognised the vehicle and had an attack of conscience. A further boy, who could barely read and write, told me quite seriously he wanted to be a gambler – not such an unattainable ambition but unlikely to produce a profit (though he was unconvinced)

Billy The Kid, (the song’s first verse below) , incorporates some of these anecdotes plus a few exaggerations.

Billy The Kid was a bad lad, everybody knows,

All except his mother who called him ‘Twinkle Toes’.

She spoiled him something rotten, with sweeties and milk shake,

But he just called for whisky and cannabis chocolate cake.