Steven Wells, late agent provocateur

[Johnny Marr]

Approach it with a pinch of salt and you might find a few grains of truth
...

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/musicblog/2010/jun/14/unseen-swells-sacred-cows

Bob Dylan

Dylan actually died of shame in 1964, shortly after he stopped pissing on
warmongers' graves and became a sort of reverse-anachronistic John Cooper
Clarke clone without the jokes. What people think of as "Bob Dylan" today is
really a persona acted out by half a dozen octogenarian lesbian drag kings,
who have perfected a marvellous
can't-actually-make-out-a-single-word-he's-singing parody of what Dylan
would probably sound like if he had continued his pretend-hobo faux-folkie
act into late middle age, dragging in his wake an increasingly smug, flaccid
and obese army of Mojo-reading male menopausal Peter Pans with biscuit
crumbs in their spliff-yellowed beards, all just a few more years of nightly
real-ale binges away from being permanently colostomy-bagged. In fact,
that's the one thing modern "Dylan" gigs have in common with the days when
he played in front of thousands of screaming teeny-boppers – the stench of
piss. But not in a good way.
Tom Waits

One day Waits will fess up that he only started the drunk-at-the-piano act
as a joke. And was stunned when people took it seriously. And by the time he
became sick of pretending to be pissed all the time, it was too late, he was
trapped. A bit like that bloke who pretended to be mad so he could be
repatriated from the TV version of Colditz and (spoiler alert!) eventually
went bonkers for real. "Gentlemen, I absolutely forbid any more escape
attempts of this nature." My point exactly.
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