I mean, for pity's sake, anything to assist covering that fucking nasal, adenoidal, a-tonal, whining, non musical voice of his, seriously, love the man and his vocals but he can't hold a tune to save his big nosed arse . . . . but that is the glory and the inherent beauty of Bob, couldn't sing to save his soul but went on to write the most significant popular tunes of the post WWII era . . . . when we're all dead and buried, the people of the year 2117 won't be singin 'Hairpie For Stephen' or 'Hit Me Baby', but there's a fair chance they'll still be singin 'Mr Tamborine Man' and 'The Hurricane' . . . .
You don't have to love him, shit, you don't even have to like the religion swappin, accoustic coppin, big nosed snottin, British twin droppin Dylan head . . . . all you gotta be able to do is relax into the undeniable reality he is the leading light in the last sixty years of popular music . . . . that's all !!!