Dylan’s JFK Epic: Murder Most Foul Meaning

Bob Dylan’s staggering 17-minute opus, “Murder Most Foul,” released unexpectedly in March 2020 and later appearing on his album Rough and Rowdy Ways, is far more than a recounting of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination. It’s a sprawling, elegiac meditation that uses the trauma of November 22, 1963, as a starting point to explore the fracturing of the American soul, the subsequent cultural shifts, the persistent whispers of conspiracy, and ultimately, the power of music and art to bear witness, offer solace, and preserve memory in the face of profound loss and decay. At its heart, the song is a funereal procession through a pivotal moment in history and its long, echoing aftermath, culminating in an almost incantatory summoning of cultural touchstones as a means of navigating the darkness.

Appearing seemingly out of nowhere after an eight-year gap in original material, during the unsettling early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, “Murder Most Foul” landed with seismic cultural impact. Its sheer length, minimalist arrangement, and Dylan’s late-career, spoken-word delivery commanded attention. It became Dylan’s first-ever song to top any Billboard chart (specifically, the Rock Digital Song Sales chart). The song isn’t a protest anthem in the vein of his early work; it’s a somber reflection, a historical tapestry woven with threads of conspiracy, cultural commentary, and an almost overwhelming sense of sorrow, delivered by an artist who was himself a young man witnessing the dawn of that fractured era.

Part 1: Context – The Elder Statesman, A Global Crisis, and A National Scar

The context surrounding “Murder Most Foul” is crucial to understanding its weight. Bob Dylan, by 2020, was the undisputed elder statesman of American songwriting, a Nobel laureate whose voice had chronicled decades of cultural change. His surprise release of this track, his longest ever, felt like a significant statement, a dispatch from a figure who had lived through the very history he was now dissecting. Releasing it during the global anxiety of the early pandemic added another layer – a historical trauma resurfacing during a contemporary crisis, perhaps offering a strange form of perspective or communal reflection.

The subject matter itself – the assassination of JFK – remains one of the most debated, analyzed, and mythologized events in American history. It’s often cited as a moment the nation lost its innocence, a wound that never fully healed, perpetually surrounded by conspiracy theories and a sense of unresolved truth. Dylan, who was 22 and already a rising star in the folk scene in 1963, experienced the event and its immediate cultural shockwaves firsthand. “Murder Most Foul” is his long-delayed, deeply personal, and characteristically enigmatic reflection on that turning point. The title itself, borrowed from Shakespeare’s Hamlet (spoken by the ghost of Hamlet’s father describing his own assassination), immediately frames the event as a treacherous, unnatural act demanding remembrance and perhaps, justice.

Part 2: Verse 1 Analysis – The Brutal Act, The Conspiracy’s Shadow

The song opens not with metaphor, but with a stark, almost journalistic recounting of the assassination, immediately laced with sinister undertones and the language of conspiracy.

Setting the Scene, Foreshadowing Doom

‘Twas a dark day in Dallas, November ’63 / A day that will live on in infamy President Kennedy was a-ridin’ high / Good day to be livin’ and a good day to die

Dylan establishes the time and place with ominous clarity. The phrase “live on in infamy” echoes FDR’s Pearl Harbor speech, linking the assassination to other moments of national trauma. The juxtaposition of “ridin’ high” with “good day to die” creates immediate tension, hinting at unseen forces at play.

The “Sacrificial Lamb” and the Orchestrated Hit

Being led to the slaughter like a sacrificial lamb / He said, “Wait a minute, boys, you know who I am?” “Of course we do, we know who you are” / Then they blew off his head while he was still in the car

The “sacrificial lamb” imagery suggests Kennedy was a predetermined victim, perhaps naive to the danger. The chilling, imagined dialogue (“Wait a minute, boys…”) followed by the assassins’ cold confirmation (“Of course we do…”) and the brutal act (“blew off his head”) paints a picture not of a lone, crazed gunman, but of a calculated, almost business-like execution by forces who knew exactly what they were doing.

Motive and Method: The Language of Conspiracy

Shot down like a dog in broad daylight / Was a matter of timing and the timing was right You got unpaid debts, we’ve come to collect / We’re gonna kill you with hatred, without any respect We’ll mock you and shock you… We’ve already got someone here to take your place

Dylan employs the language often used in conspiracy theories surrounding the assassination. “Unpaid debts,” “come to collect,” suggest powerful entities (Mafia? CIA? Military-industrial complex?) settling scores. The stated motive is pure “hatred,” devoid of “respect.” The chilling line, “We’ve already got someone here to take your place” (presumably Lyndon B. Johnson, sworn in shortly after), strongly implies a coup d’état.

The Magic Trick and the Unseen Audience

The day they blew out the brains of the king / Thousands were watching, no one saw a thing …Greatest magic trick ever under the sun / Perfectly executed, skillfully done

The assassination is framed as a public spectacle (“thousands were watching”) where the crucial details remained hidden (“no one saw a thing”), akin to a “magic trick.” This highlights the confusion, the conflicting accounts, and the sense that the official narrative didn’t match the public experience. It emphasizes the theme of deception and hidden hands.

Introducing the Guide: Wolfman Jack The verse concludes by invoking Wolfman Jack, the iconic rock and roll DJ known for his gravelly voice and on-air persona. His appearance here serves multiple functions: grounding the era in its sound, foreshadowing the song’s later shift towards music as its primary language, and perhaps acting as a kind of Charon figure, guiding the listener through this underworld of American trauma. The unsettling juxtaposition of the nursery rhyme “Rub-a-dub-dub” with the Shakespearean “murder most foul” encapsulates the song’s blend of the mundane, the horrific, and the mythic.

Part 3: Verse 2 Analysis – Cultural Upheaval, Counterculture’s Shadow, Lingering Darkness

The second verse expands the scope beyond the immediate event, exploring the chaotic cultural landscape that emerged in the assassination’s wake, weaving together moments of hope, violence, and persistent conspiracy.

The Changing Guard: Beatles and Bums

Hush, little children, you’ll understand / The Beatles are comin’, they’re gonna hold your hand …There’s three bums comin’ all dressed in rags / Pick up the pieces and lower the flags

Dylan contrasts the soothing arrival of the British Invasion (The Beatles’ innocent “I Want to Hold Your Hand”) with the grim reality (“lower the flags”) and the persistent, unsettling figures of the “three tramps” (photographed near Dealey Plaza and often featured in conspiracy narratives). It captures the era’s duality: youthful optimism emerging alongside unresolved national trauma.

Counterculture’s Promise and Peril

I’m goin’ to Woodstock, it’s the Aquarian Age / Then I’ll go over to Altamont and sit near the stage

This couplet perfectly encapsulates the hope and subsequent disillusionment of the 1960s counterculture. Woodstock (1969) represented peace, love, and utopian ideals (“Aquarian Age”). Altamont (also 1969), marred by violence and death just months later, symbolized the movement’s dark underbelly. Dylan positions himself as a witness to both, acknowledging the era’s complex legacy.

Dallas Revisited: Denial and Danger The verse circles back to Dallas, layering images of forced celebration (“let the good times roll,” “party going on behind the Grassy Knoll”) with sinister warnings (“Don’t say Dallas don’t love you, Mr. President,” “Better not show your faces after the sun goes down,” “Living in a nightmare on Elm Street”). It paints Dallas as a place of performative denial masking a persistent, dangerous darkness related to the assassination. Kennedy’s famous quote is inverted (“Don’t ask what your country can do for you”), suggesting a shift towards cynicism and self-interest.

The Death of Ideals and the Unsolved Mystery

I’m going down to the crossroads, gonna flag a ride / The place where faith, hope, and charity died …What is the truth, and where did it go? / Ask Oswald and Ruby, they oughta know

The “crossroads” evokes blues mythology (deals with the devil) but here signifies a place where American ideals perished. The direct naming of Lee Harvey Oswald (the accused assassin) and Jack Ruby (Oswald’s killer) points to the core figures of the official story, yet implies the real truth remains hidden with them, silenced by death or conspiracy. The “wise old owl’s” cynical conclusion (“Business is business”) reinforces the idea of cold, calculated motives behind the “murder most foul.”

Part 4: Verse 3 Analysis – Through Kennedy’s Eyes? Sacrifice, Cover-Up, and the Zapruder Nightmare

The third verse takes a startling, intimate turn, seemingly adopting JFK’s perspective in his final moments, while also reflecting on the enduring mystery and the grim legacy of the event.

The Final Ride

I’m riding in a long, black Lincoln limousine / Ridin’ in the back seat next to my wife Headed straight on in to the afterlife / I’m leaning to the left, I got my head in her lap Oh Lord, I’ve been led into some kind of a trap

This section provides a visceral, first-person account of the assassination, capturing the suddenness, the intimacy of Jackie Kennedy’s presence, and the horrifying realization of betrayal (“some kind of a trap”). It transforms the historical event into a personal tragedy.

The Mutilation and Missing Soul

They mutilated his body and they took out his brain / What more could they do? They piled on the pain But his soul was not there where it was supposed to be at / For the last fifty years they’ve been searchin’ for that

Dylan references the controversial autopsy and handling of Kennedy’s body, framing it as a further violation (“mutilated,” “piled on the pain”). The idea that his “soul” (or perhaps the truth, the essence of what he represented) went missing and has been sought ever since speaks to the enduring sense of loss and unresolved mystery surrounding his death and legacy.

Cynicism, Conspiracy, and the Zapruder Film The verse weaves together cynicism about freedom (“only dead men are free”), hints of disposing evidence (“Throw the gun in the gutter”), and more direct conspiracy elements. The narrator explicitly identifies with Oswald (“I’m just a patsy like Patsy Cline / Never shot anyone from in front or behind”), reinforcing the lone gunman theory’s rejection. The mention of the Zapruder film, the home movie capturing the assassination, is crucial. Describing it as “vile and deceitful,” “cruel and it’s mean,” and the “Ugliest thing,” viewed dozens of times, highlights its role as both a key piece of evidence and a source of endless, gruesome fascination and manipulation.

Sacrifice, Antichrist, and the New Regime The assassination is elevated to a “human sacrifice,” suggesting a ritualistic killing with profound implications. The ominous quote, “The age of the Antichrist has just only begun,” frames the event as an apocalyptic turning point. The immediate transition of power (“Johnson sworn in at 2:38”) underscores the cold political reality moving swiftly in the wake of tragedy. The final lines (“It is what it is, and it’s murder most foul”) offer a sense of grim resignation.

Part 5: Verses 4 & 5 Analysis – Wolfman Jack’s Playlist: Music as Elegy, History, and Solace

The final, sprawling sections of the song mark a dramatic shift. The direct narrative of the assassination recedes, and Wolfman Jack takes center stage as a spectral DJ, curating an encyclopedic playlist requested by the narrator (perhaps Dylan himself, or the lingering spirit of the era). Music becomes the primary language for processing the trauma, remembering the past, and seeking refuge.

Diagnosis and the DJ’s Role

What’s new, pussycat? What’d I say? / I said the soul of a nation been torn away And it’s beginning to go into a slow decay / And that it’s thirty-six hours past Judgment Day

The diagnosis is stark: the assassination inflicted a mortal wound on the nation’s soul, leading to ongoing decay. Wolfman Jack, “speaking in tongues” like a mystic, becomes the guide through this post-traumatic landscape. The narrator, positioned in a “long Cadillac” (a symbol of American luxury, now perhaps a hearse), requests songs – not for entertainment, but for meaning, remembrance, and solace.

The Litany of References: A Cultural Encyclopedia What follows is an extraordinary, stream-of-consciousness cascade of names and titles spanning decades of American (and broader) culture:

• Musicians: From blues legends (John Lee Hooker, Guitar Slim) to jazz giants (Parker, Monk, Getz, Peterson), rock pioneers (Carl Wilson, Glenn Frey, Don Henley), soul queens (Etta James), country icons, classical pieces (“Moonlight Sonata”), folk figures (Tom Dooley), pop stars (Stevie Nicks, Nat King Cole), and more.
• Songs: Titles range from mournful (“St. James Infirmary,” “I’d Rather Go Blind,” “Tragedy,” “Cry Me a River,” “The Old Rugged Cross”) to upbeat (“Anything Goes,” “Let the Good Times Roll” – ironically), poignant (“Nature Boy,” “Deep in a Dream”), and thematically relevant (“Only the Good Die Young,” “Key to the Highway,” “Darkness,” “Love Me or Leave Me”).
• Films & Actors: Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd (silent comedy), Bugsy Siegel, Pretty Boy Floyd (gangsters), Terry Malloy (On the Waterfront), It Happened One Night, Lady Macbeth (Merchant of Venice also mentioned).
• Cultural Figures: Birdman of Alcatraz, Houdini.
• Historical/Political Threads: References to JFK (“Mr. President,” “brothers,” Love Field, “altar of the rising sun”), Uncle Sam, Marilyn Monroe (linked to JFK).

The Function of the Playlist: This seemingly random list serves multiple profound purposes:

1. Elegy: Many songs are explicitly requested for figures associated with tragedy or death (JFK, First Lady, Marilyn Monroe, artists who died young).
2. Cultural History: It acts as a vast, non-linear map of 20th-century American culture, weaving together diverse threads of art, music, film, and history.
3. Memory and Association: Each name or title is a potential trigger for memory, emotion, and association, creating a rich tapestry of collective consciousness.
4. Solace and Escape: In the face of the “murder most foul” and the nation’s decay, music offers a refuge, a source of beauty, truth, and emotional expression.
5. Bearing Witness: The list itself, like the song, becomes an act of witnessing, acknowledging the figures and art forms that shaped the era before and after the trauma.
6. Connecting Threads: Subtle thematic links persist – darkness, death, betrayal, mystery, power, transcendence – echoing the song’s earlier verses.

The requests become increasingly specific and poignant, culminating in asking for the song itself, “Murder Most Foul,” bringing the epic meditation full circle.

Part 6: The Soundscape – Hypnotic Minimalism and Vocal Gravitas

The musical arrangement of “Murder Most Foul,” crafted by Finneas and potentially others under Dylan’s guidance, is crucial to its hypnotic power. It is remarkably sparse and unchanging for a song of its length.

• Instrumentation: The primary elements are a simple, circling piano figure, subtle, mournful violin or cello swells, and light, almost imperceptible percussion. This creates a somber, dreamlike, almost funereal atmosphere.
• Static Harmony: The song largely stays within a narrow harmonic range, avoiding dramatic shifts or complex chord changes. This contributes to its meditative, incantatory quality, allowing the listener to become fully immersed in the lyrical flow.
• Focus on Voice: The minimalism ensures that Dylan’s voice and lyrics are the absolute focal point. There are no instrumental solos or distracting flourishes.
• Dylan’s Delivery: Dylan’s vocal performance is key. It’s not singing in a traditional sense, but a gravelly, intimate, spoken-word recitation. His phrasing is conversational yet deliberate, imbued with the weight of decades. He sounds like a weary historian, a spectral narrator guiding the listener through a dark corridor of memory. The performance is hypnotic, drawing the listener into the sprawling narrative with its sheer, unadorned gravitas.

The music doesn’t drive the narrative; it creates the sacred, somber space within which the narrative unfolds. It’s the sound of contemplation, of memory, of a long, dark night of the American soul.

Conclusion: An Epic Elegy for a Fractured Nation

“Murder Most Foul” is a monumental achievement in Bob Dylan’s legendary career. It stands as a profound and unsettling elegy, using the assassination of JFK not just to revisit a historical trauma, but to diagnose a lasting wound on the American psyche. The song weaves together historical detail, conspiracy whispers, personal reflection, and an encyclopedic knowledge of 20th-century culture into a mesmerizing, stream-of-consciousness tapestry.

While the first half bluntly confronts the violence and potential treachery of November 1963, the latter half transforms into a unique testament to the power of music and art. In the face of decay, disillusionment, and unresolved darkness, Dylan turns to the vast catalog of human creativity – songs, films, artists – as a source of memory, solace, and perhaps, a fragmented form of truth. It’s as if the only way to navigate the aftermath of the “murder most foul” is through the echoes of the culture that endured it. The song offers no easy answers, no definitive conspiracy theory, no neat resolution. Instead, it leaves the listener adrift in a sea of references, anchored only by the somber music and Dylan’s haunting voice – a sprawling, unforgettable meditation on loss, memory, and the enduring power of art in the face of incomprehensible darkness.