And that’s the story of how Joan Baez has been calling out celebrity worship
culture since 1975. All hail the queen of shade.
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| Joan Baez & Bob Dylan. Photo: Netflix |
“Joan Baez and me could sing anything,” commented a present-day Dylan, in a rare moment of sentimentality. “We could sing together in our sleep. As a matter of fact,
lot of times when I was sleeping, I’d hear her voice.”
 |
| Joan Baez & Bob Dylan. Photo: Netflix |
Bob Dylan is famously tight-lipped when comes to talking to the press—or indeed, talking to pretty much anyone. True story: When I was 14 years old, I went to a Bob Dylan concert with my family, and he didn’t say a word to the audience the entire time. (And the audience loved it.)
In Martin Scorsese‘s new Netflix documentary, Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese, Scorsese does get Dylan to talk, I assume because he’s Martin Scorsese. (It also helps that this documentary, which follows Dylan’s 1975 Rolling Thunder Revue concert tour, is Scorsese’s second Dylan film, the first being No Direction Home in 2005.) But the real star of the film is, in my humble opinion, Joan Baez.
If you don’t know who Joan Baez is, you’ll want to know after this film. Baez may never have reached the superstardom of Dylan, but she’s a beloved figure in American music nonetheless. As a folk singer-songwriter in the 60s and 70s, she was known for writing and covering protest songs about social justice. In addition to touring with Dylan, she also dated him in the early 60s, a relationship which inspired her most famous song, 1975’s “Diamonds & Rust.” Two years ago, Baez was finally inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, for which she delivered a spectacular speech.
Baez sparkles in Rolling Revue, both in her interviews from present-day (she and Dylan are both 78) and in the archival footage. In one scene from 1975, the two croon “I Shall Be Released,” and you can hear how perfectly their voices blend.
“Joan Baez and me could sing anything,” commented a present-day Dylan, in a rare moment of sentimentality. “We could sing together in our sleep. As a matter of fact, lot of times when I was sleeping, I’d hear her voice.”
The present-day Baez had a slightly-less-rosy view of the Rolling Revue tour, and she had little patience for Scorsese’s attempts to dig up nostalgic anecdotes. (“Get to the point,” she implored, after one particularly leading question.) But one delightfully shady anecdote from Baez stands out—the time she dressed up as Dylan, to see if people might treat her differently. Spoiler alert: They did.
“I’d put these beard markings and mustache on”, recalled Baez, “Then I’d put his hat on, and some white face”. The disguise fooled several roadies, who, Baez discovered, tripped over themselves to give “Dylan” whatever he wanted.
“I said, ‘Gimme some coffee,'” Baez said with a laugh, “and instantly, people got me some coffee. ‘Do you want this? Do you want this? Do want milk? Do you want sugar?'”
And that’s the story of how Joan Baez has been calling out celebrity worship culture since 1975. All hail the queen of shade.