ent levels when you consider that the singer may be directing his lines at himself.
….
The young Bob Dylan had crammed a great deal into his career to this date. He had written songs as varied and enduring as “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “Mr. Tambourine Man”–songs good enough by themselves to justify most writers’ careers–but at this point his talent was launching itself to a whole new level. Already the subject of real ire from people who accused him of abandoning folk/protest music, he was now facing the noisy hatred of those who would accuse him of committing some Judas-like sin for playing an electric instrument. For a 25-year-old trying to keep his head on straight and shepherd a wild creativity within, it had to be disturbing stuff. With “Like a Rolling Stone,” he lifted himself artistically to the point he had to reach in order to give his talent its needed outlet–and managed to sing about that terrifying and liberating moment at the same time. Effecting the transformation, and crystallizing it, simultaneously, in a song. Quite a special achievement, in a body of work replete with them.
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