When Bob Dylan first heard The Beatles, he wasn’t sure what to make of them. “I just kept it to myself,” he once said. “Back then, it wasn’t cool to admit you liked a pop band.” But secretly, Dylan did like them. In fact, he liked them a lot. He said their sound was “infectious” — the melodies, the harmonies, the youth pouring through the speakers. They weren’t just catchy; they were new. The Beatles, for their part, worshipped Dylan’s words. They devoured his albums, dissecting the meaning behind every line. John once said, “You don’t know what it meant for us — hearing Dylan. It was like opening a window.” In August 1964, the two forces finally met in a New York hotel room. History says it was Dylan who introduced them to marijuana that night — but something deeper happened too. Dylan challenged them. Not with lectures, but with presence. His songs had teeth, shadows, riddles. After that meeting, The Beatles changed — and so did their music. “Rubber Soul,” “Revolver,” and “Sgt. Pepper” didn’t come from nowhere. Dylan had unlocked a door. But Dylan wasn’t just a teacher. Years later, he said this about them: “They were doing things nobody was doing. Their chords were outrageous, just outrageous, and their harmonies made it all valid. But I just kept it to myself that I really dug them. Everybody else thought they were for the teeny boppers, that they were going to pass right away. But it was obvious — they had staying power.” Coming from Dylan — a man known for guarded praise — that meant something. They didn’t always stay close. Time and egos did what they do. But in the music, in the way they pushed each other from across the ocean and across genres, there’s a silent, mutual respect that never quite faded. Sometimes, the greatest conversations aren’t spoken — they’re written in songs.

June 19, 2025 Williams 0

  In the whirlwind of the 1960s, few musical moments have resonated as profoundly as the clandestine admiration and influence between Bob Dylan and The […]