B
aez was already nationally famous; Dylan was about
to be. Until this point, his voice was holding him
back from the big break.
Critics and the masses have, these several decades later,
generally acknowledged that Dylan’s vocals are compelling
in the extreme, but for the radio audience back at that time,
they were, shall we say, something of an acquired taste. His
singing voice was nasal, to be sure, and, if emotive, raw.
Baez’s, by contrast, was ethereal and seemingly effortless.
The folk singers Peter, Paul and Mary had lovely voices as
well, and such pop groups as the Byrds, the Turtles, and
Sonny and Cher all had easily accessible sounds—and
all had big hits with Bob Dylan songs. The songwriter’s
own record label reacted defensively at one point with a
“Nobody Sings Dylan Like Dylan” campaign, but Baez tooka different tack, inviting him onstage as a surprise guest at
her appearances, including the big one at the Newport Folk
Festival in 1963, to prove the point live.
Public appearances that year, as much as the fine reviews
received by Freewheelin’, served to define and position
Dylan. In May, he was defined and positioned as well by
an appearance that didn’t happen. Dylan had written one
of his satirical songs about an ultraconservative group that
held a certain sway at the time, the John Birch Society. He
was in rehearsal for an eagerly anticipated segment on The
Ed Sullivan Show, a gig that would greatly increase his pro-
file, when he was told that CBS’s “head of Standards and
Practices,” fearing a libel suit by the political organization,
had nixed “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues.” Rather than
change his set list, Dylan walked. While he was denied the08-35 LIFE_Bob Dylan 2020 Folksinger.indd 27 FINAL 1/13/20 4:16 PM