In person, Folk Singer-Poet Bob Dylan spoke for an age. Over the roaring roll of his guitar, he rasped out sarcastic, sardonic cries of anger, anxiety and alienation that made the young generation wince with the pleasure of recognition. In seclusion in Woodstock, N.Y., since a motorcycle spill in the summer of 1966, he became a legend. Folkniks trembled at rumors. Was he dead, dying, mindless, voiceless? To one of the few reporters who breached his fortress, Dylan laughingly replied: "They're all true." Meanwhile, Dylan in absentia loomed larger than Dylan in...
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