In the mid-1960s, the mutual admiration between Bob Dylan and The Beatles fundamentally reshaped popular music. Dylan pushed the Fab Four to abandon simple pop tropes for deeper, introspective songwriting, while The Beatles inspired Dylan to plug in his electric guitar and rock. But beneath the public display of mutual respect lay an intense, fiercely competitive undercurrent.
In May 1966, that competitive tension boiled over onto vinyl. When Dylan released his legendary double album Blonde on Blonde, it contained a track called “4th Time Around”—a song designed as a sharp, parodying insult aimed directly at John Lennon.
The Catalyst: “Norwegian Wood”
The origin of the friction dates back to December 1965, when The Beatles released Rubber Soul. The album featured “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown),” a haunting, sitar-driven track written primarily by John Lennon. The song’s cryptic narrative, acoustic arrangement, and distinct 3/4 waltz time signature were an overt, intentional homage to Bob Dylan’s signature storytelling style.
While the music world praised Lennon’s evolution as a lyricist, Dylan himself was less than thrilled. He reportedly felt that Lennon wasn’t just paying tribute—he was lifting his artistic identity. Dylan famously played the track for friends, mockingly pointing out the similarities, before deciding to deliver his artistic retaliation the only way he knew how: in the studio.
The Musical Counter-Attack
Recorded during the star-studded Blonde on Blonde sessions in early 1966, “4th Time Around” mimics “Norwegian Wood” with alarming precision. Dylan intentionally adopted the exact same 3/4 time signature, a near-identical melodic progression, and a remarkably similar vocal cadence.
The lyrics tell a wandering story about an eccentric encounter with a woman in her room, mirroring the narrative arc of Lennon’s track. However, Dylan saves his most lethal blow for the song’s closing lines. Breaking the narrative entirely, Dylan delivers a direct, icy warning to Lennon about artistic theft:
“I never asked for your crutch / Now don’t ask for mine.”
Dylan was drawing a line in the sand, essentially telling Lennon that while he didn’t ask to be The Beatles’ creative crutch, Lennon needed to stop leaning on his style.
John Lennon’s Spiral of Paranoia
When Blonde on Blonde hit the shelves in 1966, Lennon listened to the track and instantly recognized the target on his back. The passive-aggressive parody sent the Beatle into a psychological tailspin, exacerbating the deep anxieties he was already harboring during a heavily drug-fueled period of his life.
Lennon openly addressed the intense paranoia the track caused him during his famous 1970 interviews with Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner.
“I was very paranoid about that,” Lennon admitted candidly. “I thought it was an insult, or a joke, or Dylan sending me up. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know whether he was making fun of me or what.”
Lennon also recalled the uncomfortable experience of Dylan playing the unreleased track for him live during a meeting in London. “He played it to me in a room, and I thought, ‘What’s he doing?'” Lennon remembered. “It was like he was trying to tell me something, or he was just putting me down.”
Moving Past the Petty Petty
Despite the sharp sting of the track, the rivalry didn’t permanently fracture their relationship. As the initial shock wore off, Lennon came to appreciate the cleverness of the execution, eventually realizing that Dylan’s parody was born out of intense creative respect.
“In the end, I just took it as a great track,” Lennon later reflected. “It was a very witty song, and he’s a very witty guy.”
The two icons continued to run in the same circles, famously sharing a chaotic, drug-addled ride in the back of a London limousine later that year, which was captured for the unreleased documentary Eat the Document. While “4th Time Around” remains an incredibly specific time capsule of 1966 ego clashes, it stands as proof that even the greatest musical minds aren’t above a little bit of brilliant, high-art pettiness.
nds as proof that even the greatest musical minds aren’t above a little bit of brilliant, high-art pettiness.
