"I never wanted to be a prophet or a savior. Elvis maybe. I could see myself becoming him. But prophet? No."A man of constant re-invention - as much as Zelig as Zimmerman - the inscrutable Bob Dylan constantly played games with his past and present;Dylanologists loved to sift through the clues he left behind. Arriving in New York, he disavowed his Minnesota roots("I came out of the Midwest, but Im not interested in leading anybody back there"), and blagged his way into the presence of the great Woodie Guthrie, before seducing the Greenwich,Village folk scene. As Paul simon remarked, "He defined the genre for a while. That's quite an accomplishment." Freewheelin' onwards, Bob left behind a legion of hunch-shouldered young swains copying his nasal delivery. He upset the folk purists by going electric not long before 1966 motorcycle accident after which some claimed he was never the same dylan - although 1975's blood on the tracts put skids under that notion. Deifid,decried,demonised,dylan continually skipped a couple of steps ahead of the competition - he'll probably still have a trick and a tune up his sleeve when he finally knocks on heaven's door.
