the loss of magic: why Bob Dylan can’t write great songs anymore

The hipsters aren’t wrong: most musicians really were better when they were younger, especially on their first album.

There’s a simple, boring statistical truth behind this. Most musicians and bands can only produce one or two truly great albums. Why? The hardest part of becoming a successful musician is the discovery process. To get discovered, a musician or band needs to create something that really connects—often a combination of luck, timing, and the right sound. After this initial success, or when that sound wears off, they tend to regress to the mean. Additionally, artists often spend years pouring their energy into crafting their debut album, refining ideas and perfecting songs. Once it’s released, though, the well often runs dry. Without a backlog of equally great ideas, sustaining that level of brilliance becomes nearly impossible. And once an artist is popular, they suddenly face new challenges: less time to digest art and create, the pressure to replicate success, and often a growing aversion to taking creative risks.

That said, there are exceptions—songwriters who seem divinely inspired, like Paul McCartney and Bob Dylan, who manage to produce hit after hit, crossing genres and decades. But even they eventually lose their magic. Suddenly, they just can’t write a good song anymore.

Take Paul McCartney, for example. I love him; I think he might be one of the most uniquely talented humans to have ever lived. But it’s true—he is no longer capable of writing great songs. This isn’t because he’s uninterested or chasing new styles. He simply lost the ability. It happens to the best. Even McCartney.

Bob Dylan explained this phenomenon himself in an interview:

INTERVIEWER: Do you ever look back at your old music and think, “Whoa, that surprised me”?
BOB DYLAN: Uh, I used to. I don’t do that anymore. I don’t know how I got to write those songs.
INTERVIEWER: What do you mean you don’t know how?
BOB DYLAN: All those early songs are like almost magically written. “Darkness at the break of noon / Shadows even the silver spoon / The handmade blade, the child’s balloon.” Well, try to sit down and write something like that. There’s a magic to that. And it’s not a Siegfried-and-Roy kind of magic, you know. It’s a different kind of penetrating magic. And I did it at one time.
INTERVIEWER: You don’t think you can do it today?
BOB DYLAN: Uh-uh [no].
INTERVIEWER: Does that disappoint you?
BOB DYLAN: Well, you can’t do something forever. I did it once, and I can do other things now. But I can’t do that.

I’ve been reflecting on this since seeing one of my favourite songwriters in concert last night: Ryan Adams. I believe Ryan Adams is, by far, the best songwriter of my lifetime. Over more than 20 years, he’s written 50+ certified bangers, consistently. But since 2017, he hasn’t released anything that qualifies as a certified banger. It’s worth noting that during this period, Ryan faced serious challenges—being MeToo’d, widespread backlash, and struggles with addiction and sobriety. But seven years without a new great song is significant. I suspect his streak is over and his magic is gone; he will never write a certified banger again.

This got me thinking about why this happens. Unlike athletes, songwriters don’t lose their ability because of physical decline. It’s not about running out of trends to explore either; many of these artists couldn’t replicate their old style even if they tried. And for most intellectuals and high-performing knowledge workers, their peak can extend well into their 50s and beyond. So why do so many musicians lose their creative spark before the age of 50?

Is it genetic? Something inherently artistic? I sincerely don’t know. My best guess is still what Bob Dylan said: he was temporarily blessed with magic.