Too Many Words About Bob Dylan's "Idiot Wind"

I think that I was alerted to this listing of Bob Dylan’s 50 greatest song (which is, in any event, a fool’s errand—ranking masterpieces can never be done “correctly”) by Lani Novak.
(https://www.theguardian.com/music/2020/apr/09/bob-dylans-50-greatest-songs-ranked)
In any event, this has “Idiot Wind” (ranked as #3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ex05XUddWMk).  It’s a great song, but I wouldn’t have it that high on my list (even if I were rash enough to make such a list); in fact, I don’t think it’s even the best song on the album, Blood on the Tracks (I think “Tangled Up In Blue” has that distinction).


Here’s what the folks who ranked it #3 had to say about it:

“On one level an outpouring of fury to rival anything his amphetamine-fuelled younger self came up with, yet Idiot Wind differs from Ballad of a Thin Man or Positively Fourth Street in that its author isn’t just hurling bitter accusations, he’s writhing in agony: “I haven’t known peace and quiet for so long I can’t remember what it’s like.” The end result is extraordinary, harrowing listening.”

So let’s look a bit at “Idiot Wind.”  The structure of the song is a bit…odd.  It opens with this verse—which is a bit schizophrenic:

Someone’s got it in for me, they’re planting stories in the press
Whoever it is I wish they’d cut it out but when they will I can only guess
They say I shot a man named Gray and took his wife to Italy
She inherited a million bucks and when she died it came to me
I can’t help it if I’m lucky
People see me all the time and they just can’t remember how to act
Their minds are filled with big ideas, images and distorted facts
Even you, yesterday you had to ask me where it was at
I couldn’t believe after all these years, you didn’t know me better than that
Sweet lady

To me, the first fines and the second five lines look like they belong in different songs.  Then the first chorus:

Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your mouth
Blowing down the backroads headin’ south
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth
You’re an idiot, babe
It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe

He’s obviously not (vast understatement) happy.  But, then, 

I ran into the fortune-teller, who said beware of lightning that might strike
I haven’t known peace and quiet for so long I can’t remember what it’s like
There’s a lone soldier on the cross, smoke pourin’ out of a boxcar door
You didn’t know it, you didn’t think it could be done, in the final end he won the wars
After losin’ every battle

Then we’re back to very angry the second half of that verse, and chorus:

I woke up on the roadside, daydreamin’ ’bout the way things sometimes are
Visions of your chestnut mare shoot through my head and are makin’ me see stars
You hurt the ones that I love best and cover up the truth with lies
One day you’ll be in the ditch, flies buzzin’ around your eyes
Blood on your saddle

Idiot wind, blowing through the flowers on your tomb
Blowing through the curtains in your room
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth
You’re an idiot, babe
It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe

Clearly, the singer/speaker is angry, betrayed in some way.  And this anger continues for another verse and chorus.   But then, something changes…and the final verse softens.  Maybe slowly, bus surely, a song that (as I read it) filled with anger, with (at best) severe disappointment):

I can’t feel you anymore, I can’t even touch the books you’ve read
Every time I crawl past your door, I been wishin’ I was somebody else instead
Down the highway, down the tracks, down the road to ecstasy
I followed you beneath the stars, hounded by your memory And all your ragin’ glory
I been double-crossed now for the very last time and now I’m finally free
I kissed goodbye the howling beast on the borderline which separated you from me
You’ll never know the hurt I suffered nor the pain I rise above
And I’ll never know the same about you, your holiness or your kind of love
And it makes me feel so sorry

“…hounded by your memory…your “ragin’ “ glory”…he’s “kissed goodbye to the howling beast”; he’ll never know her “holiness"…her "kind of love.”  Instead of anger, sorrow.  And the final chorus is, for me, a catharsis…it’s not…well, here it is:

Idiot wind, blowing through the buttons of our coats
Blowing through the letters that we wrote
Idiot wind, blowing through the dust upon our shelves
We’re idiots, babe
It’s a wonder we can even feed ourselves

Maybe, I think he’s saying, sometimes we’re all idiots, we all need compassion, forgiveness.  And, yes, a great song (but what’s that opening verse doing there?).