Endless Loop: Wigwam

bobdylanThis entry was originally written about 2 years ago, but never published due to my inability to find a proper embed of the song to play, but lo and behold, Dylan’s stuff is all over YouTube now.  Hooray!  So, without further ado…

Have you ever had one of those songs that gets stuck in your head for days…weeks…years?  Sure you have.  These are the songs that always make the cut.  The songs on repeat.  We all have them.  I have a ton.  Welcome back to Endless Loop.

“Wigwam” by Bob Dylan

Just close your eyes for a moment or two and let the swaying rhythm and melody wash over you like purifying waves of sound, the horn section ebbing and flowing like the pristine blue waves of some hidden lagoon, your fingers gently gliding through the water to the sing-songy “da da dah da da’s,” as the sun burns bright above you.  Picture the love of your life slowly moving closer towards you, striding gracefully across the hazy dunes, floating, an almost surreal and dreamlike movement, but honest and true.  But above all else, happy.  And then the moment fades away in caress.

I have no idea why Bob Dylan’s “Wigwam” makes me feel this way.  It’s kind of a love song…maybe.  There are no real lyrics, so it’s hard to gauge, but it feels like it should be one.  There’s an overwhelming romantic quality to it all, more than likely stemming from the Mariachi-esque horn section that plays throughout, and Dylan’s almost playful “da’s” and “la’s,” like someone at a loss for words, all blushing and rosy-cheeked in the presence of one’s betrothed.  It’s short and sweet, but feels like this revelatory notion of untempered love, like holding in hands in the hallway or sneaking a kiss before night’s end.  And it always makes me smile.

Everybody has a favorite Dylan song, mine just happens to come from an record considered by many to be at best a glorified bootleg album, and at worst an intentional joke.  So, without further ado, here’s “Wigwam” from 1970’s Self Portrait.

Smile.

 

Thomas H Williams

Thomas H Williams

From a bunker somewhere in Central Texas, Thomas H. Williams spends most of his time with his wife, his two sons, and his increasingly neurotic dog. He listens to a lot of music, drinks a lot of excellent beers, and gets out from time to time. For even more shenanigans, visit heavenisanincubator.blogspot.com.

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