Bob Dylan’s ‘Boots of Spanish Leather’ was written for the album ‘The Times They Are A-Changing’, and was ostensibly focussed on a lover leaving their beloved to go to a romanticised Spain, but was in fact a reflection of Dylan’s own break-up with his girlfriend Suze Rotolo after she left him to study in Italy.
The song portrays a dialogue between the two parts to a relationship in obvious crisis. In simplistic ABCB rhyme scheme, Dylan crisply puts forward 9 verses with concealed, nuanced allusions to the incompatibility of the two anonymous lovers – whom we will term ‘the author’ and ‘the traveller’ - throughout. Some speculation has been made as to whether the song is about foreign brigades in the Spanish Civil War, but others point out that the ambiguity of the lyrics suggest otherwise.
There are no oblique or unchangeable references to gender throughout the song – leading to covers by Joan Baez among others - which in many cases might be seen as a sales gimmick to achieve widespread emotional identification, but as Dylan did not release ‘Boots’ as a single and refused to play it live until the late 1980s this does not seem likely. In the Sixties, a time when a majority of non-popular musical releases were politically driven, a personalised heartbreak ballad was an unusual move.
Dylan’s lyrics show off his melancholia and frustration to the audience, and chronicle at length the breakdown of a relationship: as such, the audience gets the impression that the issue at hand is of tremendous importance to the author, and an ‘epic’, folk-story feel pervades the piece as a result. The dropping of the ‘g’ in each present participle verb and the addition of ‘a-‘ on some, an outmoded convention, adds to the quaint, earthy nature of the song.
Epic or otherwise grandiose language is used frequently, for example to describe the idealised Spain of the traveller: the ‘mountains of Madrid or the coast of Barcelona’ being said to be places to find precious metals or ‘something fine’ by the person going there. This reverent slant tells the audience about the traveller’s enthusiasm for their destination, and contrasts with later apathy and unempathic tone when engaging with their other half.
As well, it tells us of the author’s disdain for the perceived shallowness and materialism of the traveller more directly, as they offer ‘something fine/of silver or of golden’. Indirectly, the traveller’s recurrent offer of an object as recompense for their absence hints that they are not emotionally tuned to the author, and believe gifts will fill the gap made by their leaving.
Carrying this theme further into the next verse, the author sweepingly proclaims his love for the traveller: “Oh but if I had the stars from the darkest night/And the diamonds from the deepest ocean/ I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss” is about as romantic a sentiment as one can give, especially in reply to the offer of an actual gift. In response, the author receives the unemotional, practical answer: “That I might be gone a long, long time/And it’s only that I’m [asking]”. The muted reaction seems callous, and the audience glimpse inside a non-functional relationship where only one party is truly committed to the other.
The traveller’s clinical behaviour is juxtaposed with that of the author’s devotion to make the ending 3 verses of the author emoting over their loss even more devastating; on a ‘lonesome day’ – emphasizing the emotional impact – the author receives a letter from the traveller’s ship reading “…I don’t know when I’ll be coming back again/it depends on how I’m feeling”.
Their reply states outright what the audience have been working out for themselves, collapsing a subtle example of dramatic irony: “I’m sure your mind is a-roamin’/I’m sure your thoughts are not with me…”
The final stanza is filled with interwoven metaphor and imagery: the first two lines go thus: “So take heed, take heed of the western wind/take heed of the stormy weather”. This not only gives the clichéd ‘best wishes’ breakup talk a more specific outlook (literally, be careful of the weather) but also pathetic fallacy to the atmosphere of the breakup, telling the audience and the traveller about how ‘stormy’ it was.
The final lines convey the most of the entire song: the author, giving up, finally asks after a material object: boots. Boots that were, to paraphrase Nancy Sinatra, made for walking – away from the relationship and onwards with their life. The double meaning ends the whole song on a poignant note. A Spanish boot is an instrument of torture involving a slow puncturing of the flesh. Spanish leather, or Peau d’Espagne, is a women’s perfume, a fragrance. In five words, Dylan had told Rotolo that the thought of her, of her perfume, was slowly torturing him.
Bob Dylan’s ‘Boots of Spanish Leather’ was written for the album ‘The Times They Are A-Changing’, and was ostensibly focussed on a lover leaving their beloved to go to a romanticised Spain, but was in fact a reflection of Dylan’s own break-up with his girlfriend Suze Rotolo after she left him to study in Italy.
The song portrays a dialogue between the two parts to a relationship in obvious crisis. In simplistic ABCB rhyme scheme, Dylan crisply puts forward 9 verses with concealed, nuanced allusions to the incompatibility of the two anonymous lovers – whom we will term ‘the author’ and ‘the traveller’ - throughout. Some speculation has been made as to whether the song is about foreign brigades in the Spanish Civil War, but others point out that the ambiguity of the lyrics suggest otherwise.
There are no oblique or unchangeable references to gender throughout the song – leading to covers by Joan Baez among others - which in many cases might be seen as a sales gimmick to achieve widespread emotional identification, but as Dylan did not release ‘Boots’ as a single and refused to play it live until the late 1980s this does not seem likely. In the Sixties, a time when a majority of non-popular musical releases were politically driven, a personalised heartbreak ballad was an unusual move.
Dylan’s lyrics show off his melancholia and frustration to the audience, and chronicle at length the breakdown of a relationship: as such, the audience gets the impression that the issue at hand is of tremendous importance to the author, and an ‘epic’, folk-story feel pervades the piece as a result. The dropping of the ‘g’ in each present participle verb and the addition of ‘a-‘ on some, an outmoded convention, adds to the quaint, earthy nature of the song.
Epic or otherwise grandiose language is used frequently, for example to describe the idealised Spain of the traveller: the ‘mountains of Madrid or the coast of Barcelona’ being said to be places to find precious metals or ‘something fine’ by the person going there. This reverent slant tells the audience about the traveller’s enthusiasm for their destination, and contrasts with later apathy and unempathic tone when engaging with their other half.
As well, it tells us of the author’s disdain for the perceived shallowness and materialism of the traveller more directly, as they offer ‘something fine/of silver or of golden’. Indirectly, the traveller’s recurrent offer of an object as recompense for their absence hints that they are not emotionally tuned to the author, and believe gifts will fill the gap made by their leaving.
Carrying this theme further into the next verse, the author sweepingly proclaims his love for the traveller: “Oh but if I had the stars from the darkest night/And the diamonds from the deepest ocean/ I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss” is about as romantic a sentiment as one can give, especially in reply to the offer of an actual gift. In response, the author receives the unemotional, practical answer: “That I might be gone a long, long time/And it’s only that I’m [asking]”. The muted reaction seems callous, and the audience glimpse inside a non-functional relationship where only one party is truly committed to the other.
The traveller’s clinical behaviour is juxtaposed with that of the author’s devotion to make the ending 3 verses of the author emoting over their loss even more devastating; on a ‘lonesome day’ – emphasizing the emotional impact – the author receives a letter from the traveller’s ship reading “…I don’t know when I’ll be coming back again/it depends on how I’m feeling”. Their reply states outright what the audience have been working out for themselves, collapsing a subtle example of dramatic irony: “I’m sure your mind is a-roamin’/I’m sure your thoughts are not with me…”
The final stanza is filled with interwoven metaphor and imagery: the first two lines go thus: “So take heed, take heed of the western wind/take heed of the stormy weather”. This not only gives the clichéd ‘best wishes’ breakup talk a more specific outlook (literally, be careful of the weather) but also pathetic fallacy to the atmosphere of the breakup, telling the audience and the traveller about how ‘stormy’ it was.
The final lines convey the most of the entire song: the author, giving up, finally asks after a material object: boots. Boots that were, to paraphrase Nancy Sinatra, made for walking – away from the relationship and onwards with their life. The double meaning ends the whole song on a poignant note. A Spanish boot is an instrument of torture involving a slow puncturing of the flesh. Spanish leather, or Peau d’Espagne, is a women’s perfume, a fragrance. In five words, Dylan had told Rotolo that the thought of her, of her perfume, was slowly torturing him.