我的傳家寶：一個歌手一份情

祝莉麗

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，我們搬了家。在那之前，我們一直和祖母住在一起。現在我們家終于有自己的伸展空間了。一天晚上，我看著父母圍著一堆篝火跳舞，散發著明亮光芒的篝火余燼躥到了我的臥室窗戶上，就像未卜先知的魂靈。

錢很緊張，所以家里沒有電視。但是我們有一臺電唱機，爸爸的唱片常常在唱盤里旋轉。電唱機里會播吉米·亨德里克斯、約翰尼·卡什和瓊·貝茲的歌，但多數情況下，播放的都是鮑勃·迪倫的歌。《地下室卡帶》和《渴望》專輯里收錄的歌曲成了贊美我們新生活的歌。我和弟弟，一個十歲，一個八歲，我們爬到樹上筑窩，學會了《晾衣繩的故事》里的歌詞：

“你聽到那個消息了嗎？”他咧嘴笑著說。

“副總統發瘋了。”

“在哪里？”“市中心。”“什么時候？”“昨天晚上。”

“嗯，我得說，這太糟糕了！”

我們會反復唱這些歌詞，一遍又一遍，沉浸在屬于我們自己的歡樂里。

那年1月，大地尚未回春，爸爸動脈瘤病發，暈倒在后花園，就在那堆篝火曾經燃燒的地方附近。醫務人員把他抬上擔架送進了醫院，但是他們到得太晚了。那時我的爸爸很快就要37歲了，與迪倫年齡相仿。從那以后，我們的歡聲笑語消失了，但我們繼續播放著那些唱片。由于沒有墓地可去，聽迪倫的音樂成了我們紀念爸爸的唯一方式——迪倫那砂紙般粗厲的嗓音也是一種哀慟。這兩個男人在我的腦海中交織在一起，我竭力想要把他們區分開來。爸爸成了迪倫《無數金發女郎》專輯封面上那個頭發蓬亂的形象。只需迪倫歌曲里幾個小節的口琴曲就可以喚起我對爸爸的回憶。

迪倫是爸爸給我的禮物。我繼續聽著《鈴鼓先生》《不要再猶豫》和《命運的簡單扭曲》，我對歌詞的喜愛與日俱增。什么樣的孩子不會著迷于充滿流浪者、海盜和暈船水手的歌曲呢？盡管我還太小，不能理解這些概念的奇怪之處，但最令我激動的地方也正在于此。是什么讓嘴巴成為“水銀”，或把眼睛變成“倉庫”？擁有 “沒有方向的家”是一種什么樣的感受？《別了，安吉麗娜》成了我的拿手曲目：

機關槍在咆哮，

傀儡們舉起巖石，

惡魔們釘上定時炸彈，

在時鐘的指針上。

我長大了。像所有孩子常做的那樣，我不再那么頻繁地想起爸爸或迪倫。我仍然是他音樂的粉絲，但是我已不再癡迷。我那時不可能再告訴你哪首歌出自哪張專輯，以及哪張專輯在哪一年發行。歷數我和他的感情原本會使這種感情變淡，可不管怎樣，我不那么感興趣了。

之后，在1995年初的某一天，弟弟打來電話，說他已經給我倆買了兩張票，去看迪倫在布里克斯頓學院的演唱會。工作一直令我感到狂躁。要去倫敦感覺十分遙遠。但最后看到迪倫出現在舞臺上，我感到了一股突如其來的亢奮。站在到處都是汗水、煙霧和碎啤酒瓶的環境中，我感覺這不像一場演唱會，而是一個關于信仰的行動。

從那以后，我和媽媽在格拉斯哥又見了迪倫幾次?？粗兝弦呀洺蔀橐环N奇怪的體驗——是一種特權，但也是一種對本應如何的提醒。我和媽媽一起擔憂他那骨瘦如柴的雙腿、他那些像是患有關節炎的手指，以及他那沙啞的聲音，就好像我們可能有責任為他制定今后的保健方案。當他最后一次來英國巡演，卻未能在英國北方的演唱會現身時，那種感覺就像是一種背叛。

如今弟弟并不常在我的身邊。他住在幾百英里之外，還長時間待在遠東地區。但是他最近來看我了。我們度過了一個歡樂的夜晚，喝酒，大笑，而他的兒子和女兒，一個九歲，一個11歲，給我們表演了節目。我的侄子看起來和他爸爸小時候很像，除了他有一頭紅發，而且沒有遭受過喪父之痛。他的拿手曲目是《隱秘的鄉愁布魯斯》。他唱得一字不差，沒有絲毫磕巴。

生活就這樣繼續：迪倫的音樂像傳家寶一樣，一代代傳下去。

1. Bob Dylan： 鮑勃·迪倫（1954～），原名羅伯特·艾倫·齊默曼（Robert Allen Zimmerman），美國搖滾、民謠藝術家，是當代樂壇的偉大人物之一，曾獲得奧斯卡獎、普利策獎、金球獎、總統自由勛章、2016年諾貝爾文學獎等多種獎項。

2. heirloom： 請參見P47注釋26

3. ember [?emb?（r）] n. 余火未盡的木塊（或煤塊）

4. prescient [?presi?nt] adj. 預知的，有預知能力的，有先見之明的

5. turntable [?t??nte?bl] n. （電唱機的）唱盤

6. Jimi Hendrix： 吉米·亨德里克斯（1942～1970），美國搖滾吉他手、歌手、詞曲創作者，是美國音樂史上最有影響力的電吉他手之一。

7. Johnny Cash： 約翰尼·卡什（1932～2003），美國創作歌手、吉他手、演員、作家，是20世紀最有影響力的音樂家以及史上最賣座的音樂藝術家。

8. Joan Baez： 瓊·貝茲（1941～），美國民謠歌手、詞曲創作者、音樂家、社會活動家，寫了很多抗議歌曲。

9. anthem [??nθ?m] n. （團體組織的）頌歌，贊歌；國歌

10. den [den] n. （動物的）巢穴，窩

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

12. aneurysm [??nj?r?z?m] n. 動脈瘤

13. paramedic [?p?r??med?k] n. （非醫生或護士的）護理人員，醫務輔助人員

14. rasp [rɑ?sp] n. （類似兩物摩擦發生的）粗厲聲音

15. keening [?ki?n??] n. [舊]慟哭，哀號

16. intertwine [??nt??twa?n] vt. 使纏結，使纏繞在一起；使緊密關聯

17. tousled [?ta?zld] adj. （頭發）蓬亂的

18. bar [bɑ?（r）] n. （樂曲中的）小節

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）無業游民

22. mercury [?m??kj?ri] n. 水銀；汞

23. party-piece： 常在聚會時表演的小節目