Bob Dylan: It’s All Right In Front

Down a dirt drive near the ocean in Malibu, Calif., through a gate hidden in a fence and past hundreds of pecking chickens, TIME Correspondent Denise Worrell found a small cabin some distance from a large main house hidden in the twilight. By the scuttering glow of a single lantern near the cabin fireplace, Bob Dylan, drawing occasionally on a Kool, talked easily with her on a variety of subjects.

On Biograph. It wasn’t my idea to put the record out. I haven’t sat down and listened to it. Even when I make a record, I listen to it once or twice before it’s out, and then once it’s out, I don’t really listen to it anymore. I didn’t really take a hand in this because my enthusiasm for making records might not be what it was 20 years ago, I don’t know.

This five-record set could have been all unreleased songs. If it was worth my while, I could put together a ten-record set of unreleased songs, songs that have never gotten out and songs that have been bootlegged. Bootlegging is a big business. It’s like the dope business. It’s supposed to be illegal, but a lot of people make their livelihood off it.

On making records. Years ago, I didn’t spend much time recording. I was putting a lot of pressure on myself to do it right and fast then because of the confinement of the studio. But nobody else works that way. Now people’s ears have become accustomed to hearing every space filled up, and they’re throwing everything in. More is there to make you think less. I’m trying to find a balance. You know the old Sun Records, the way they would sound with just the upright bass and guitar and snare drum? That’s the sound I love the best. My sound is basically backbeat and Stratocaster guitar or an old Martin guitar. Playing with a synthesizer is not really as much fun as playing with an instrument. I guess those machines are for people who are more inclined to be visionaries, who imagine something and work it out. As opposed to people who carry it around with them. That’s what I do.

On writing. I go through different periods when I’ll write a bunch of things, then go through long spells where I don’t really write anything. I just jot down little phrases and things I overhear, people talking to me, stuff like that. Usually when I have some kind of deadline pressure, I’ll get prolific. When I do work, I work for long periods of time, then I lay back for a minute. I’ll work for, like, 24 or 30 hours, 14 hours at a time, then readjust after that. Then I do it again four or five days later. Sometimes I’ll be able to hear the melody and everything right in my head, sometimes I’ll play on the guitar or piano or something, and some kind of thing will come. Other times I’ll just go into the studio and play riffs with other people and then later on listen to the tapes and see what that wants to be. I don’t know. My songs are not for me to understand. I don’t make that a part of it. While I’m doing them I have an understanding of them, but that’s all.

On rock. What is that? I don’t like rock, just plain rock. Is that Twisted Sister? I like rock ‘n’ roll; now that’s a different thing. Rock is hard; that don’t mean nothing to me. But rolling is smooth and easy. A lot of the roll is gone from the music I hear, sure it is. Things got to have roots. There are still roots, but they’re only there on record. It’s like people studying literature. Who do they read? They read Shakespeare. Literature must have been at a high level when Shakespeare was writing his plays. You can’t say that today if you go and see a play. It’s going to be very far down the line from Shakespeare. The same way with rock ‘n’ roll, rhythm and blues and all that. We’re living in a time where you can still feel it. It might be remote, but you can still feel it, whereas 50 or 60 years from now, it’s only going to be a dream. How many radio stations play Howlin’ Wolf or Jimmy Reed or Muddy Waters? Most young black guys don’t even know who those people are.

On singing out. What voice I have, what little voice I have–I don’t really have a good voice. I do most of my stuff with phrasing. I think of myself as just having an edge when it comes to phrasing. I guess my voice sounds pretty close to a coyote or something.

On blasts from the past. My first five albums? I don’t even know what the first five were. I don’t know if I could name all 29 of my records. I liked a bunch of albums I did in the ’80s, and Street Legal from the ’70s … I liked that a whole lot. I liked all the albums, sort of, I guess. My favorite songs of all time aren’t anything I’ve written. I like stuff like Pastures of Plenty and That’s All and I Get a Kick out of You.

On looking down the road. I still feel like I’ve got more to do. A while back I started writing a novel called Ho Chi Minh in Harlem. He was a short-order cook there in the ’20s before he went back to Viet Nam–it’s a documented fact. That excited me there for a minute. I did this song with Sam Shepard last year. It was called Danville Girl. A long ballad, about 15 minutes. I heard some people talking about making a movie out of that. I’d like to write some short stories, but I’d have to go to a log cabin in the mountains somewhere. I’ve always wanted to do a children’s album too. But how would they release it?

On getting on and keeping on. I was the same 20, 30 years ago that I am now. My values haven’t changed. Sure I’ve gone through lots of different things, and I’ve learned a lot, and my life isn’t what it was. But my values haven’t changed. I don’t judge myself, and I don’t really judge others. I don’t watch or look at what’s happening, I just take it or leave it.

In life, well, I mean I feel like I fall short in just about everything. In music I can do just about what I need to do. I feel pretty calm most of the time, but then if I review my situation at all, it always seems like I’m up there walking the plank. I’m probably a driven person. I always feel like somebody’s cracking the whip. Somebody or something. I never felt like I was searching for anything. I always felt that I’ve stumbled into things. I never went to the holy mountain to find the lost soul that is supposed to be part of me. I don’t believe in that stuff, and I don’t feel like a person has to search for anything. I feel like it’s all right in front.