The same day it was announced that Bob Dylan would be awarded the 2016 Nobel Prize for Literature, I found myself ponied up to the bar at Fermentoren in Copenhagen. I glanced to my left and, sure enough, there he was.
Fermentoren, at least physically, is reminiscent of the same sort of Greenwich Village bar Dylan himself would've played back in the day. Small. Underground. Candelit. A world away.
The playlist that evening was right up my alley. Pixies, followed by Bowie, followed by the Stones. Then, finally, after two or three beers, he came on: “Blowin’ in The Wind.” In that moment, he was old and new—reinvented yet again.