Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg: an era-defining friendship

The day Bob Dylan arrived in New York on January 26th, 1961, a group of writers including James Baldwin, Susan Sontag and Norman Mailer, gathered to discuss ‘the death of the Beat Generation’ which they believed had been ‘co-opted by the commercial mainstream’ according to Dylan biographer Sean Wilentz. The fire of the Beat movement had long since begun to fizzle out. Though the writers at the heart of the movement- Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, William S Burroughs and Gregory Corso to name a few- had gone their separate ways, the spirit of the Beat movement lived on in the smoky coffeehouses of Greenwich Village where a young Dylan, fresh out of Minnesota, would perform, embodying the folksy, bohemian style that complemented the revolutionary sensibilities of the Beat’s remaining followers. For a few years though, the two remained separate. Dylan had space for self-discovery while Ginsberg was off on his travels. The two were, at that stage, quite literally worlds apart. The Beat influence would, as Wilentz writes, ‘rekindle only after Dylan had established himself as a rising star […] and when he met up with Allen Ginsberg’ in 1963. 

The Beat Generation was a cultural and literary movement comprised of writers and intellectuals who espoused leftist political ideology, a rejection of materialism, sexual liberation and opposed the strict censorship laws in place at the time. There was a multitude of influences behind the movement of both a literary and social nature, including but not limited to Modernism, Surrealism, Romanticism and Eastern religions like Buddhism as well as early American poets such as Emily Dickinson and perhaps most significantly, Walt Whitman. The movement also had strong associations with jazz and bebop as well as drug use; many Beats (or ‘beatniks’) were involved in a push to legalize marijuana and frequently made recreational use of hallucinogenic substances. Ultimately, the Beat movement was a reaction against the stifling conformity, inequality and overemphasis on commercialism that characterised the 1950s, anathema to creatives and individualists. The name ‘Beat’ evokes simultaneously a feeling of being ‘beat’ and weary whilst also suggesting a higher, more spiritual or ‘Beatified’ state, encapsulating their desire to elevate their often paltry lived experiences into an art. The poetry borne of this movement is typified by a defiance of conventions (both of the form itself and of social taboos), transgressive subject material and a general disillusionment with what America had become. The bulk of Beat literature was produced in the latter half of the 1950s, including Jack Kerouac’s generation-defining novel ‘On the Road’, in which the fictionalised versions of himself and Neal Cassidy (Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty, respectively) embark on an odyssey across the United States. In terms of poetry, the frenetic pulse of the Beat movement is captured in ‘Howl’, arguably the most celebrated of Allen Ginsberg’s poems, a raging cry of anguish lamenting the consequences of the rigid conformity and oppressive authority within American society. The movement reached its zenith in the late 1950s but as aforementioned, by 1961 it had lost its momentum. Kerouac had begun his descent into alcoholism, espousing views that were no longer in keeping with the leftist spirit of the movement, such as, controversially, his support for the Vietnam War. Other Beats such as William S Burroughs had split off in a new creative direction and Neal Cassady had become part of an LSD-fuelled travelling group, the Merry Pranksters, with writer Ken Kesey. Ginsberg, however, was responsible for the evolution of the Beat movement into the protest-focused, counter culture movement of the 1960s, for which Dylan became an iconic figurehead.

Among his many achievements, Ginsberg is also credited for coining the phrase 'flower power'. 

Despite the splitting of its core group, the influence of the Beats persevered and continued to be hugely significant for the younger generation, not least to 18 year old Bob Dylan who was first introduced to the Beats when handed a copy of Kerouac’s ‘Mexico City Blues’ in 1959. According to biographer Sean Wilentz, the text ‘blew [his] mind’; never before had he read poetry in his own ‘American language’. It was this discovery that prompted Dylan to write his own poetry. He is quoted as saying: “I didn’t start writing poetry until I was out of high school. I was eighteen or so when I first discovered Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Philip Whalen, Frank O’Hara and those guys.” Wilentz goes on to write that ‘Dylan’s involvement with the writings of Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs and the rest of the beat generation is nearly as essential to Dylan’s biography as his immersion in rock and roll, rhythm and blues, and then Woody Guthrie’. The Beats’ challenging of social norms, push for social justice and wide-ranging poetical influences was highly attractive to Dylan as a young adult, though by the time he arrived in New York, he had somewhat outgrown the ‘hungry for kicks’ attitude embodied by characters like Dean Moriarty. Additionally, Kerouac’s alcoholism and his unfashionable political attitudes precluded him from joining the new post-Beat generation; he and Dylan would never meet, though Dylan continued to revere him as an influential writer, paying homage to him in his film ‘Renaldo and Clara’ in which he visits Kerouac’s grave in his hometown of Lowell, Massachusetts.

Dylan and Ginsberg at Jack Kerouac's grave in Lowell, MA

Though the main explosion of the Beat movement had already died down, the beatnik crowd that it had created still remained. In 1985, Dylan said that he “came out of the wilderness and just naturally fell in with the Beat scene, the bohemian, Be Bop crowd, it was all pretty much connected.” This was the bohemian life of Greenwich village in the 1960s, with writers and artists mingling in coffeehouses and bars like the Café Wha?, Gaslight and Kettle of Fish where both poets and musicians performed. Dylan recalls the strange mixture of clientele in ‘Chronicles’, writing ‘you’d never know who you were liable to run into at the Kettle of Fish […] everybody seemed like somebody and nobody at the same time’. It was at this time that Dylan began to develop his own personal voice, drawing on the influence of his musical heroes ranging from Woody Guthrie and Muddy Waters to Buddy Holly and Elvis Presley whilst also incorporating elements of the literature he was so voraciously consuming at the time. Being part of the bohemian crowd in Greenwich Village proved to have been an indispensable part of his later meteoric rise, not simply because of the people he met and their subsequent connections but equally the atmosphere of social unrest and intellectualism, the ‘revolution in the air’, to quote Dylan’s 1975 song ‘Tangled up In Blue’. Dylan later said that “It was Jack Kerouac, Ginsberg, Corso, Ferlinghetti … I got in at the tail end of that and it was magic … it had just as big an impact on me as Elvis Presley,” (The New Yorker). Though he witnessed only the ‘tail end’ of the Beat movement, the prevailing influence of Beat literature is evident in Dylan’s discography. For instance, ‘Desolation Row’ from 1965’s ‘Bringing it All Back Home’ demonstrates the influence of Kerouac’s ‘Desolation Angels’- both were released the same year. Some lines in ‘Desolation Angels’ feature almost word for word in ‘Desolation Row’, such as ‘sin by lifelessness’ (referring to the life of sinners). ‘Desolation Row’ also emulates Beat literature as it draws on similar sources of inspiration such as the modernist notion of fragmentation, borrowing from TS Eliot’s ‘The Wasteland’ as well as ‘Howl’ among other things. Dylan absorbed both the folk tradition and the Beat influence to create something new- a ‘merger of poetry and song’ to continue what Ezra Pound had predicted as Modernism’s future.  

Allen Ginsberg’s first introduction to Dylan’s music was with ‘The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan’. He recalls the moment he first listened to ‘Masters of War’, saying “Dylan’s words were so beautiful. The first time I heard them, I wept. […] I actually burst into tears. It was a sense that the torch had been passed to another generation.” The two were first introduced 1963 by New York Post Journalist Al Aronowitz at a party at 8th Street Bookstore. They instantly got along and thus began a friendship and creative collaboration that would last until Ginsberg’s death in 1997. After their first meeting, Dylan invited Ginsberg to join him on tour, which Ginsberg declined. He remembered the moment years later, saying “boy, if I’d known then what I know now, I’d have gone like a flash”. He was reluctant to become a “mascot or slave” for Dylan though just over a decade later, he essentially became the former in the Rolling Thunder Revue and was happy to do so. Ginsberg’s influence on Dylan was essential for the singer’s creative development. According to Allenginsberg.org, Dylan once said that “seeing Ginsberg was like going to see the Oracle of Delphi. He didn’t care about material wealth or political power. He was his own kind of King but – he wanted to play music. He’d already achieved what an international poet could hope to achieve.” This detachment from material wealth and devotion to art for art’s sake was clearly an influence on Dylan. We see an element of Ginsberg’s role as a wise ‘oracle’ figure in the music video for ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’ in which the poet stands in the background with a large beard and a stick in, engaged in conversation but continuing to watch over Dylan as he flips over the lyric cards. The music video featured in D.A. Pennebaker’s ‘Don’t Look Back’ which documents Dylan’s 1965 tour of the UK. Dylan makes reference to Ginsberg in one of the post-concert hangouts in which he asks his crowd of guests if there are any poets ‘like Allen Ginsberg’ around. Ginsberg then appears in the next scene, conversing with Dylan out of earshot; such snippets indicate his ongoing presence in Dylan’s life as a mentor and friend.

Dylan and Ginsberg in the 'Subterranean Homesick Blues' music video

Despite being only 15 years older than Dylan, Ginsberg is often represented as a fatherly role model figure for Dylan- Dylan himself cast Ginsberg in the role of ‘Father’ in his 1978 film ‘Renaldo and Clara’ shot during his Rolling Thunder Revue- but though Ginsberg was initially a mentor for the young folksinger, the nature of their relationship was more nuanced than that (Wilentz also notes Ginsberg’s ‘obvious desire’ for Dylan in a sexual capacity, further complicating their relationship). Their friendship was less akin to that of a master and protégé and more of an equal collaboration, with both influencing and encouraging the other on a number of creative projects. Though he initially looked to Ginsberg as an ‘oracle’, Dylan’s career soon eclipsed that of Ginsberg’s, at which point Ginsberg was happy to accompany him on tour with a fanatical devotion, so much so that Anne Waldman called him Dylan’s ‘most dedicated groupie’, indicating something of a role reversal since their initial meeting. Together, the two came to represent the essence of 1960s bohemia and counterculture, or, as Graham Caveney put it, “if Dylan was beginning to provide the soundtrack for the counter-culture, Ginsberg gave it both a face and the networks which were essential in sustaining its momentum.” Dylan’s lyrics were infused with the same restless social discomfort and resentment of oppressive institutions that had previously characterised parts of Beat poetry whilst Ginsberg appeared at the forefront of protest culture, protesting, among other things, inequality, pushing for the legalisation of marijuana and, crucially, the Vietnam war.

The influence of Beat writers continued to be a primary source of inspiration for Dylan which we also see in his novel ‘Tarantula’ which he wrote in 1966 though it was not published until 1971. The book was poorly received by critics with one New York Times review saying ‘The official appearance of Bob Dylan's “Tarantula” is not a literary event because Dylan is not a literary figure’, words that have aged poorly in light of Dylan being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2016. ‘Tarantula’ was the product of Dylan’s absorption of Beat literature, particularly works such as Burroughs’ ‘Naked Lunch’ or Ginsberg’s ‘Howl’; ‘Tarantula’ creates a restless, frenzied narrative voice(s) and is imbued with contemporary frustrations and anxieties that are concealed under a cryptic veil of slang, pop culture references and shifts in perspective making the book purposefully difficult to follow. Perhaps had it been published during the height of the movement it might have gained more traction but the date of its publication rendered it more of a belated afterthought; though it does demonstrate the significant influence of Beat literature on Dylan’s creative development.

Whilst Dylan was not a Beat poet, he clearly saw himself as continuing the Beat legacy in some capacity; on the album notes of ‘Desire’ (1976), he writes “these songs are the culmination of Poetry-music as dreamt of in the ’50s and early ’60s.”, showing how Ginsberg was proleptic in thinking that the ‘torch’ had been passed on back when ‘Freewheelin’’ had been released.

Eight years after they met, Dylan and Ginsberg embarked on a relatively unknown musical collaboration. Their album ‘Holy Soul, Jelly Roll’ was recorded in 1971 and still only exists in bootleg form. The album features Ginsberg on lead vocals with Dylan on harmonica, guitar and supporting vocals, with both original songs as well as recordings of poems by William Blake with a musical backing. One might see the album as the culmination of both Dylan’s idiosyncratic style as well as Ginsberg’s Beat tradition, evident in the song ‘Vomit Express’. Ginsberg said of the song, “Vomit Express was a phrase I got from my friend Lucien Carr, who talked about going to Puerto Rico, went often, and we were planning to take an overnight plane a couple of weeks later, my first trip there. He spoke of it as the “vomit express” – poor people flying at night for cheap fares, not used to airplanes, throwing up airsick.” The song features thematic links to much of what had previously been explored both by Beat poetry as well as in Dylan’s discography, notably the subject of travelling, limitations of poverty and autocratic government as well as the idea of being ‘down and out’. A few years later in 1975, Ginsberg joined Dylan on his ‘Rolling Thunder Revue’ where he occasionally took to the stage to read out poetry. However, the limited time frame meant that such occasions were rare, though Dylan made sure that Ginsberg featured in the concert held at Clinton State Prison in which Rueben ‘Hurricane’ Carter was incarcerated (a miscarriage of justice immortalised in Dylan’s 1976 song ‘Hurricane’.) Such efforts demonstrate Dylan’s ongoing acknowledgement of Ginsberg as a significant figure of social change and his keenness for his friend to be celebrated as such.

At this time, Ginsberg was also taking what Wilentz describes as ‘artistic enlightenment’ from Dylan; Ginsberg’s poem ‘September on Jessore Road’ about the Bangladesh Liberation War features lines which use the repeated refrain of ‘How many’ (‘How many souls walk through Maya in pain/How many babes in illusory pain?’), a clear echo of Dylan’s ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ (How many roads must a man walk down […] ‘How many seas must a white dove sail’) in what one might construe as an inversion of their initial relationship as mentor and student. 

Until his death, Ginsberg remained a steadfast presence in Dylan’s life both as a source of inspiration and as a friend. Though Dylan himself was not a Beat, his impassioned songs facilitating social change helped mould what the Beat movement became, still infused with the essence of what it had been, or what Ginsberg called ‘Beat illumination’. Ginsberg died in on the 5th of April 1997, the night after which Dylan, on tour, dedicated his performance of ‘Desolation Row’ to the late poet, telling the audience it had been Ginsberg’s favourite. Whilst Ginsberg’s poetry was life-changing material for Dylan, Ginsberg’s later association with Dylan also made him visible to a whole new generation, crucial in his ongoing social activism particularly against the Vietnam war, creating a kind of symbiosis in their relationship; without the other, neither would have gone on to become what they did.