An epic record from 1966 which I didn't really get to listen to until 1978.
Again it took me until the mid-seventies to start listening to Dylan but when I did there was a great catalogue to get through. I used to live in a share-house in Oakleigh. One of the guys there was totally into Dylan. His name was Seb. His girlfriend was a very heavy walker. She made the floorboards bounce when she walked into the room. Therefore the records would skip. When she was around we'd keep the good records off in case they got scratched. Seb had a Dylan gold record on his wall. And that's all he had. I was resistant to the Dylan thing but gradually broke down after hearing Like a Rolling Stone on a good stereo.
This was a time when we would just sit around listening to Dylan. No TV on. Maybe a few beers and smokes. It was glorious. And this album went on forever. Though we had to get up every 20 minutes to flip the record.
I used to collect the Story of Pop magazine. Dylan's image at the time was just so cool. With his polka dot shirts, black suits and Cuban Heel boots. I even bought his book Tarantuala. It was rubbish. But not this album. It was Dylan at his peak.
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