Song of the Day 3/27: Bob Dylan, “Murder Most Foul”
Bob Dylan, without advance notice, dropped an original song at midnight last night, his first in eight years, along with this message: “Greetings to my fans and followers with gratitude for all your support and loyalty across the years. This is an unreleased song we recorded a while back that you might find interesting. Stay safe, stay observant and may God be with you.” The almost-17-minute track starts with the assassination of John F. Kennedy and traces the decline of the American spirit over the ensuing 50 years. It does not directly reference our current moment, but it doesn’t have to — the timing of the release says enough.
The lyrics, as transcribed by fans at the Dylan fan site Expecting Rain:
‘Twas a dark day in Dallas, November ’63
A day that will live on in infamy
President Kennedy was a-ridin’ high
Good day to be livin’ and a good day to die
Being led to the slaughter like a sacrificial lamb
He say, ‘wait a minute, boys, you know who I am?’
‘Of course we do, we know who you are’
Then they blew off his head while he was still in the car
Shot down like a dog in broad daylight
Was a matter of timin’ and the timin’ was right
You got unpaid debts we’ve come to collect
We gonna kill you with hatred, without any respect
We’ll mock you and shock you and we’ll grin in your face
We’ve already got someone here to take your place
The day they blew out the brains of the king
Thousands were watching, no one saw a thing
It happened so quickly, so quick by surprise
Right there in front of everyone’s eyes
Greatest magic trick ever under the sun
Perfectly executed, skillfully done
Wolf man, oh wolf man, oh wolf man howl
Rub-a-dub-dub, it’s a murder most foul
Hush little children you’re gonna stand
The Beatles are comin’, they’re gonna hold your hand
Slide down the bannister, go get your coat
Ferry ‘cross the Mersey and go for the throat
There’s three bums comin’ all dressed in rags
Pick up the pieces and lower the flags
I’m goin’ to Woodstock, it’s the Aquarian Age
Then I’ll go down to Altamont and sit near the stage
Put your head out the window, let the good times roll
There’s a party goin’ on behind the grassy knoll
Stack up the bricks, pour the cement
Don’t say Dallas don’t love you, Mr President
Put your foot in the tank and step on the gas
Try to make it to the triple underpass
Blackface singer white face clown
Better not show your faces after the sun goes down
Up in the red light district like a cop on the beat
Living in a nightmare on Elm Street
When you’re down on Deep Ellum, put your money in your shoe
Don’t ask what your country can do for you
Cash on the barrelhead, money to burn
Dealey Plaza, make a left-hand turn
I’m goin’ down to the crossroads, gonna flag a ride
The place where faith, hope and charity died
Shoot ‘im while he runs, boy, shoot ‘im while you can
See if you can shoot the Invisible Man
Goodbye Charlie, goodbye Uncle Sam
Frankly, Miss Scarlet, I don’t give a damn
What is the truth? Where did it go?
Ask Oswald and Ruby, they ought to know
‘Shut your mouth,’ said the wise old owl,
‘Business is business, and it’s a murder most foul’
Tommy, can you hear me? I’m the acid queen
I’m riding in a long black Lincoln limousine
Ridin’ in the backseat next to my wife
Headin’ straight on in to the afterlife
I’m leanin’ to the left, got my head in her lap
Oh Lord, I’ve been led into some kind of a trap
Well, we ask no quarter and no quarter do we give
We’re right down the street from the street where you live
They mutilated his body and they took out his brain
What more could they do?
They piled on the pain
But his soul was not there, where it was supposed to be at
For the last 50 years, they’ve been searching for that
Freedom, oh freedom, freedom over need
I hate to tell ya, mister, but only dead men are free
Send me some lovin’, tell me no lie
Throw the gun in the gutter and walk on by
Wake up little Suzie, let’s go for a drive
Cross the Trinity River, let’s keep open-eyed
Turn the radio on, don’t touch the dials
Parkland hospital only six more miles
You got me dizzy, Miss Lizzy, ya fill me with lead
That magic bullet of yours has gone to my head
I’m just a patsy like Patsy Cline
Never shot anyone from in front or behind
Got blood in my eye, got blood in my ear
I’m never gonna make it to the new frontier
Zapruder’s film I’ve seen right before
Seen it 33 times, maybe more
It’s vile and deceitful, it’s cruel and it’s mean
Ugliest thing that you ever have seen
They killed him once and they killed him twice
Killed him like a human sacrifice
The day that they killed him someone said to me, ‘Son,
The Age of the Antichrist has just only begun’
Air Force One comin’ in through the gate
Johnson sworn in at two thirty-eight
Lemme know when you decide to throw in the towel
It is what it is, and it’s murder most foul
What’s new pussycat?
What’d I say?
I said the soul of a nation been torn away
And it’s beginning to go into a slow decay
And that it’s 36 hours past Judgement Day
Wolfman Jack he’s speaking in tongues
He’s going on and on at the top of his lungs
Play me a song, Mr Wolfman Jack
Play it for me in my long Cadillac
Play me that only the good die young
Take me to the place Tom Dooley was hung
The Saint James infirmary in the court of King James
If you want to remember, you’d better write down the names
Play Etta James too, play ‘I’d rather go blind’
Play it for the man with a telepathic mind
Play John Lee Hooker, play ‘Scratch my back’
Play it for that strip club owner named Jack
Guitar Slim goin’ down slow
Play it for me and for Marilyn Monroe
Play ‘Please, don’t let me be misunderstood’
Play it for the First Lady, she ain’t feeling any good
Play Don Henley, play Glenn Frey
Take it to the limit and let it go by
Play it for Carl Wilson, too
Looking far, far away down Galloway Avenue
Play tragedy, play twilight time
Take me back to Tulsa to the scene of the crime
Play another one, and another one bites the dust
Play the old rugged cross and in God we trust
Ride the pink horse down that long lonesome road
Stand there and wait for his head to explode
Play Mystery Train for Mr Mystery
The man who fell down dead like a rootless tree
Play it for the reverend, play it for the pastor
Play it for the dog that got no master
Play Oscar Peterson, play Stan Getz
Play Blue sky, play Dicky Betts
Play Art Pepper, Thelonious Monk
Charlie Parker and all-a that junk
All that junk and all-a that jazz
Play something for the Birdman of Alcatraz
Play Buster Keaton, play Harold Lloyd
Play Bugsy Siegel, play Pretty Boy Floyd
Play the numbers, play the odds
Play ‘Cry me a river’ for the lord of the gods
Play number nine, play number six
Play it for Lindsey and Stevie Knicks
Play Nat King Cole, play ‘Nature Boy’
Play ‘Down in the Boondocks’ for Terry Malloy
Play ‘It happened one night’ and ‘One night of sin’
There’s 12 million souls that are listenin’ in
Play ‘Merchant of Venice’, play ‘Merchants of death’
Play ‘Stella by starlight’ for Lady Macbeth
‘Don’t worry, Mr President, help’s on the way
Your brothers are comin’, there’ll be hell to pay’
Brothers, what brothers?
What’s this about hell?
Tell ‘em we’re waiting, keep coming, we’ll get them as well
Love Field is where his plane touched down
But it never did get back up off the ground
Was a hard act to follow, second to none
They killed him on the altar of the rising sun
Play Misty for me and that old devil moon
Play anything goes and Memphis in June
Play lonely at the top and lonely are the brave
Play it for Houdini spinning around in his grave
Play Jelly Roll Morton, play Lucille
Play deep in a dream and play driving wheel
Play Moonlight Sonata in F sharp
And the key to the highway but the king of the heart
Play Marching through Georgia and Dumbarton’s drums
Play darkness and death will come when it comes
Play Love me or leave me by the great Bud Powell
Play the bloodstained banner, play Murder most foul
A friend in America responded to the song by sending me this text: Wow, Bob Dylan reminds us that the world has been a dark place before, and probably will be again.
I replied: Bob Dylan reminds us that music and poetry are medicinal…they may not cure, but they comfort.
Talking blues as musical meditation?
Judging by the quality of his voice, Uncle Bob must have recorded this quite “a while ago.”
Looking at the Wolfman Jack references — Bob says he’s “speaking” and then makes a long list of requests for him to play – suggests the Wolfman was still alive at the time. He died in 1995.
Thanks for this, Al. Nice weather in Paris, I see.
A lot of fans are speculating this was recorded about the same time as his last original album in 2012 or even later — apparently this is how he sounds on his latest releases, the albums on which he sings American standards.
Warmed up a bit today. Went to the supermarket, stood in line about 15 minutes waiting to get in; they’re limiting the number of customers allowed inside at one time.