dr.musicDas Lied ist formidabel! Was hörst Du denn??;-)
Na, ich meine den Text! Baby, wirst du auch immer brav mit mir in die Kiste springen? Schön artig sein, denn der Lord will das so und nicht anders. Mit anderen Worten: nicht mit ihm Sex haben zu wollen wäre gegen die Bibel. Wie Charles Shaar Murray schon meinte: es ist beinahe unmöglich, sich nicht einen Frauenchor dazuzudenken: „It’s not me, Babe“.
Update:
Hab gerade noch mal die Stelle nachgelesen, sie ist zu schön.
Charles Shaar Murray: Crosstown Traffic – Jimi Hendrix and post-war pop. Faber & Faber, London 1989, S. 65 f.:
(…) Implicit in the song [„It Ain’t Me, Babe“] is Dylan’s acceptance of the woman’s freedom to reject the application of masculine expectations to her own life; to say „It Ain’t Me, Babe“ in her own right. However, the passing of time and the increasing influence of Judaeo-Christian fundamentalism later led Dylan to withdraw this privilege. By 1976’s Desire, he was reduced to restoring to the lowest seducer’s trick of all: claiming divine justification. „Oh, Sister“ was Dylan’s reply to feminism, and a pretty shabby reply it was too:
Oh, sister, when I come to lie in your arms,
You should not treat me like a stranger,
Our Father would not like the way that you act,
And you must realize the danger.
(„Oh, Sister“ Desire, 1976)
In other words, it’s sacrilegious for you not to want to fuck me. In the wake of his failed marriage, Dylan was reduced to touting for a new lover in these terms:
Are you so fast that you cannot see that I must have solitude?
When I am in the darkness, why must you intrude?…
Can you cook and sew, make flowers grow?
Do you understand my pain?
(„Is Your Love in Vain?“, Street Legal, 1978)
To which it is almost impossible to imagine legions of women chorusing, in perfect unison: „It ain’t me, babe, no no no/ it ain’t me you’re lookin‘ for, babe.“
With his fog, his amphetamine and his pearls, Dylan cast an irresistible spell over virtually every rock songwriter of the sixties. Everybody was affected from John Lennon and Stevie Wonder to an entire school of singer-songwriters (led by Neil Young and James Taylor) who wore sensitivity on their sleeves to such an extent that they seemed to suggest that the only trustworthy man was an impotent one who moped around while a loyal sympathetic ‚old lady‘ sewed patches on his jeans, rolled an endless supply of joints and prepared exquisite little vegetable meals for all occasions. At the very least, this might have served as an interesting counterbalance to the King Dick posturing of Jagger, Plant and Morrison, if it hadn’t been for a resentful undercurrent that suggested that impotence, too, was the women’s fault.
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Tout en haut d'une forteresse, offerte aux vents les plus clairs, totalement soumise au soleil, aveuglée par la lumière et jamais dans les coins d'ombre, j'écoute.