我的传家宝：一个歌手一份情

祝莉丽

The summer before my dad died， we moved house. Up until that point， we had lived with my grandmother； now finally our family had our own space to spread out. One night， I watched my parents dance round a bonfire， the glowing embers3） rising up to my bedroom window like prescient4） ghosts.

Money was tight， so there was no television set. But we owned a turntable5） on which my dad's records spun constantly. It played Jimi Hendrix6）， Johnny Cash7） and Joan Baez8）， but mostly， it played Bob Dylan. Tracks from The Basement Tapes and Desire became the anthems9） of our new life. My brother and I， aged 8 and 10， climbed trees， built dens10） and learned the words of "Clothes Line Saga"：

"Have you heard the news？" he said with a grin.

"The vice-president's gone mad."

"Where？" "Downtown." "When？" "Last night."

"Hmmm， say， that's too bad！"

We would chant， over and over， consumed11） by our own delight.

It was January and the earth was hard when my dad suffered the aneurysm12） and passed out in the back garden， close to the spot where the bonfire had blazed. The paramedics13） put him on a stretcher and took him to hospital， but they arrived too late. My dad was 36 going on 37 then， the same age as Dylan. Afterwards， our laughter died down， but we kept on playing the records. With no grave to visit， listening to Dylan became our only ritual of remembrance—his sandpaper rasp14）， a kind of keening15）. The two men became so intertwined16） in my head， I struggled to tell them apart. My dad was the tousled17）-haired figure on the cover of Blonde on Blonde. A few bars18） of the harmonica19） was all it took to summon up his ghost.

Dylan was my dad's gift to me. I kept on listening to "Mr. Tambourine Man"， "Don't Think Twice" and "A Simple Twist of Fate"， and my love of language grew. What child wouldn't be spellbound20） by songs full of vagabonds21）， pirates and seasick sailors？ But it was the strangeness of concepts I was too young to grasp that thrilled me most. What made a mouth "mercury22）" or eyes "warehouse"？ How did it feel to have "no direction home？" "Farewell， Angelina" became my party-piece23）：

The machine guns are roaring.

The puppets heave rocks.

The fiends nail timebombs

To the hands of the clocks.

I grew up. As children are wont to do24）. I didn't think about my dad or Dylan as much. I remained a fan of the music， but I wasn't obsessed. I couldn't have told you which tracks were on which album and which album was recorded in which year. Cataloguing25） my relationship with him would have diminished it and， anyway， I wasn't that interested.

Then， one day in early 1995， my brother phoned to say he had bought us both tickets to see him play at Brixton Academy. Work had been manic26）. London felt like a long way to go. But finally seeing Dylan step out on to the stage brought a sudden rush of excitement. Standing amid the sweat and the smoke and the broken beer bottles， it didn't feel like a gig： it felt like an act of faith.

I have seen Dylan a couple of times since， in Glasgow， with my mum. Watching him age has been a weird experience—a privilege， but also a reminder of what should have been. Together， we have worried about his skinny legs， his arthritic27）-looking fingers and his broken voice as if we might be responsible for drawing up his future care plans. When he failed to come north on his last visit to the UK， it felt like a betrayal.

My brother is not around so much these days. He lives hundreds of miles away and spends a lot of time in the Far East， but he was up for a visit recently. We passed an enjoyable evening laughing and drinking， while his son and daughter， aged 9 and 11， performed for us. My nephew looks much like him as a child， except that he has red hair and is as yet untouched by loss. His party-piece was "Subterranean28） Homesick Blues". He sang it word-perfect and without hesitation.

And so it goes on： Dylan's music as an heirloom， passed down the generations.

爸爸去世前的那個夏天，我们搬了家。在那之前，我们一直和祖母住在一起。现在我们家终于有自己的伸展空间了。一天晚上，我看着父母围着一堆篝火跳舞，散发着明亮光芒的篝火余烬蹿到了我的卧室窗户上，就像未卜先知的魂灵。

钱很紧张，所以家里没有电视。但是我们有一台电唱机，爸爸的唱片常常在唱盘里旋转。电唱机里会播吉米·亨德里克斯、约翰尼·卡什和琼·贝兹的歌，但多数情况下，播放的都是鲍勃·迪伦的歌。《地下室卡带》和《渴望》专辑里收录的歌曲成了赞美我们新生活的歌。我和弟弟，一个十岁，一个八岁，我们爬到树上筑窝，学会了《晾衣绳的故事》里的歌词：

“你听到那个消息了吗？”他咧嘴笑着说。

“副总统发疯了。”

“在哪里？”“市中心。”“什么时候？”“昨天晚上。”

“嗯，我得说，这太糟糕了！”

我们会反复唱这些歌词，一遍又一遍，沉浸在属于我们自己的欢乐里。

那年1月，大地尚未回春，爸爸动脉瘤病发，晕倒在后花园，就在那堆篝火曾经燃烧的地方附近。医务人员把他抬上担架送进了医院，但是他们到得太晚了。那时我的爸爸很快就要37岁了，与迪伦年龄相仿。从那以后，我们的欢声笑语消失了，但我们继续播放着那些唱片。由于没有墓地可去，听迪伦的音乐成了我们纪念爸爸的唯一方式——迪伦那砂纸般粗厉的嗓音也是一种哀恸。这两个男人在我的脑海中交织在一起，我竭力想要把他们区分开来。爸爸成了迪伦《无数金发女郎》专辑封面上那个头发蓬乱的形象。只需迪伦歌曲里几个小节的口琴曲就可以唤起我对爸爸的回忆。

迪伦是爸爸给我的礼物。我继续听着《铃鼓先生》《不要再犹豫》和《命运的简单扭曲》，我对歌词的喜爱与日俱增。什么样的孩子不会着迷于充满流浪者、海盗和晕船水手的歌曲呢？尽管我还太小，不能理解这些概念的奇怪之处，但最令我激动的地方也正在于此。是什么让嘴巴成为“水银”，或把眼睛变成“仓库”？拥有 “没有方向的家”是一种什么样的感受？《别了，安吉丽娜》成了我的拿手曲目：

机关枪在咆哮，

傀儡们举起岩石，

恶魔们钉上定时炸弹，

在时钟的指针上。

我长大了。像所有孩子常做的那样，我不再那么频繁地想起爸爸或迪伦。我仍然是他音乐的粉丝，但是我已不再痴迷。我那时不可能再告诉你哪首歌出自哪张专辑，以及哪张专辑在哪一年发行。历数我和他的感情原本会使这种感情变淡，可不管怎样，我不那么感兴趣了。

之后，在1995年初的某一天，弟弟打来电话，说他已经给我俩买了两张票，去看迪伦在布里克斯顿学院的演唱会。工作一直令我感到狂躁。要去伦敦感觉十分遥远。但最后看到迪伦出现在舞台上，我感到了一股突如其来的亢奋。站在到处都是汗水、烟雾和碎啤酒瓶的环境中，我感觉这不像一场演唱会，而是一个关于信仰的行动。

从那以后，我和妈妈在格拉斯哥又见了迪伦几次。看着他变老已经成为一种奇怪的体验——是一种特权，但也是一种对本应如何的提醒。我和妈妈一起担忧他那骨瘦如柴的双腿、他那些像是患有关节炎的手指，以及他那沙哑的声音，就好像我们可能有责任为他制定今后的保健方案。当他最后一次来英国巡演，却未能在英国北方的演唱会现身时，那种感觉就像是一种背叛。

如今弟弟并不常在我的身边。他住在几百英里之外，还长时间待在远东地区。但是他最近来看我了。我们度过了一个欢乐的夜晚，喝酒，大笑，而他的儿子和女兒，一个九岁，一个11岁，给我们表演了节目。我的侄子看起来和他爸爸小时候很像，除了他有一头红发，而且没有遭受过丧父之痛。他的拿手曲目是《隐秘的乡愁布鲁斯》。他唱得一字不差，没有丝毫磕巴。

生活就这样继续：迪伦的音乐像传家宝一样，一代代传下去。

1. Bob Dylan： 鲍勃·迪伦（1954～），原名罗伯特·艾伦·齐默曼（Robert Allen Zimmerman），美国摇滚、民谣艺术家，是当代乐坛的伟大人物之一，曾获得奥斯卡奖、普利策奖、金球奖、总统自由勋章、2016年诺贝尔文学奖等多种奖项。

2. heirloom： 请参见P47注释26

3. ember [?emb?（r）] n. 余火未尽的木块（或煤块）

4. prescient [?presi?nt] adj. 预知的，有预知能力的，有先见之明的

5. turntable [?t??nte?bl] n. （电唱机的）唱盘

6. Jimi Hendrix： 吉米·亨德里克斯（1942～1970），美国摇滚吉他手、歌手、词曲创作者，是美国音乐史上最有影响力的电吉他手之一。

7. Johnny Cash： 约翰尼·卡什（1932～2003），美国创作歌手、吉他手、演员、作家，是20世纪最有影响力的音乐家以及史上最卖座的音乐艺术家。

8. Joan Baez： 琼·贝兹（1941～），美国民谣歌手、词曲创作者、音乐家、社会活动家，写了很多抗议歌曲。

9. anthem [??nθ?m] n. （团体组织的）颂歌，赞歌；国歌

10. den [den] n. （动物的）巢穴，窝

11. consume [k?n?sju?m] vt. 使沉溺，使沉迷，使充满（感情或思想）

12. aneurysm [??nj?r?z?m] n. 动脉瘤

13. paramedic [?p?r??med?k] n. （非医生或护士的）护理人员，医务辅助人员

14. rasp [rɑ?sp] n. （类似两物摩擦发生的）粗厉声音

15. keening [?ki?n??] n. [旧]恸哭，哀号

16. intertwine [??nt??twa?n] vt. 使缠结，使缠绕在一起；使紧密关联

17. tousled [?ta?zld] adj. （头发）蓬乱的

18. bar [bɑ?（r）] n. （乐曲中的）小节

19. harmonica [hɑ??m?n?k?] n. 口琴

20. spellbound [?spelba?nd] adj. 入迷的；出神的

21. vagabond [?v?ɡ?b?nd] n. 流浪者；（通常指）无业游民

22. mercury [?m??kj?ri] n. 水银；汞

23. party-piece： 常在聚会时表演的小节目