Skift Take
Mark Davidson, a music historian and scholar who’s made his own music for many years, is director of archives and shows at Tulsa’s newly opened Bob Dylan Center. The objective is prompting any visitor to be more innovative in their own life. Davidson’s the ideal choice– even if he prefers not using white gloves.
Robert Reid
Word of alerting to any prospective forgers of “genuine Bob Dylan lyrics”: Don’t let Mark Davidson see them.
After all, Davidson invests a great deal of time studying the Dylan world, including the singer’s own doodled or typed lyrics. Davidson can find a forgery a mile away, consisting of one case where a forger had actually apparently utilized “some sort of computer system program” to imitate the quirks of Dylan’s Royal Caravan typewriter he used in the mid-’60s.
“However there are later manuscripts in the ’80s where Dylan may have been utilizing the exact same exact typewriter, which wonders to me. And I wish to know if he did,” Davidson contemplates. “However I do not have a Bob phone to ask.”
Davidson, 46, is the director of archives and shows and curator of the Bob Dylan Archive that is part of Tulsa’s Bob Dylan Center, which opened to the general public on May 10 and guarantees to turn Tulsa into the new worldwide HQ of Dylanology. (Currently music fans and scholars are booking their very first journeys to Oklahoma.) Davidson has the exact same role at the Woody Guthrie Center, which opened 2 doors down in 2013. The impetus for this was the acquisition of the Dylan archives, lured to Tulsa by the George Kaiser Household Structure in 2016 (the approximated $20 million played a part too). This analog/digital “living archive” of a still-active artist is meant for scholars and researchers. “It’s huge and practically countless,” as Davidson describes it, comprising hundreds of thousands of tapes, movie reels, pictures, letters, lyrics, note pads, paintings, programs– all of which is day-to-day turf for Davidson’s role.
“My knowledge of Dylan increases 150 percent weekly,” Davidson calculated.
Davidson, a Dylan fan however not a full-on “Dylan fanatic,” has a PhD in musicology and a second master’s in library science. In 2017, while living in Austin, he saw the task publishing appear and he immediately applied. He’s been working there given that, well before its public museum opening in May.
“It’s definitely a dream task,” he confessed. “There are moments when it resembles, ‘oh my gosh, I’m holding the manuscript of one of the most crucial tunes by among the most important songwriters to have actually existed.'”
Dylan archivist Mark Davidson. Sometimes it’s unintentional discoveries that imply one of the most. Once, while poring through an unopened bag of fan mail from 1966, he “saw a letter with a Vietnam postmark.” He opened it to discover a letter from a U.S. soldier throughout the Vietnam War who had heard “Blowin’ in the Wind” after seeing many pals die and felt compelled to compose Dylan. “It was exceptionally effective.” It’s now on view in the center.
Davidson’s day-to-day can include less-glamorous tasks too, like “taking care of the collections, processing products, making sure they’re safe.” For example, while working with Dylan’s most prolific biographer– British author Clinton Heylin– one significant element was managing the difference between margins of U.S. and UK paper sizes.
Archives are only part of the 29,000-square-foot center. Its public galleries opened in Tulsa’s booming Arts District, simply north of downtown. Inside, visitors pass a towering iron gate Dylan welded for the website, then see an immersive film told in Dylan’s voice and walk through a chronology of his career, capped with displays of 2021’s webcast Shadow Kingdom performance/film. The production and evolution of six Dylan tunes are chartered too, beginning with the 1964 tune “Chimes of Flexibility,” the earliest manuscript in the archives (so far).
Davidson played an integral role in putting this together, consisting of teaming up with 59 Productions (which created the spectacular, multimedia “Bowie Is” exhibition in 2013). Yes, you can see the tambourine that motivated “Tambourine Guy” and the leather coat Dylan wore in at the iconic 1965 Newport Folk Celebration, but the displays are not merely there to glare at.
“We’re wishing to inspire people to compose something, to do something here,” Davidson stated. “We are consciously not trying to be an Acid Rock Cafe, or something like that.”
Putting all this together– on time– was “a great deal of work, a lot of obligation” and Davidson has barely had an opportunity yet to breathe out. (Some tweaks were happening right up to opening day.) He compares this with writing his folk-music dissertation of 877 pages, which resulted in “as numerous worried breakdowns.” But he did discover time to have a “bit of enjoyable” with Dylan die-hards by leaving some intentional “Easter eggs” in the gallery area, like a bit from a 1980 San Francisco performance filmed on the sly by collector Costs Pagel that caught the last-ever look by guitar player Mike Bloomfield before his death. (Seriously, Dylan freaks swoon over things like this.)
But the huge question for any archivist, naturally, relates to something else.
“The white glove thing? Well, the majority of archivists argue that white gloves are not the method to go. I tend to sit in that camp. And it’s due to the fact that of prospective damage fumbling around with them on,” Davidson stated. “Nevertheless I do have half a lots pairs ideal behind me.”
Robert Reid, who traveled and blogged about the world for 20-plus years, is now back in his native Oklahoma producing/hosting @OETAOK Gallery America on PBS. His latest project on the Dylan Center aired on June 2.
CORRECTION: An earlier variation of this story incorrectly spelled Costs Pagel’s name.