Happy Dylan Day, everyone.

* In a lengthy interview, Mr. Dylan ruminated on the explosion of technology and culture during the mid-20th century, when he was young, life in the TikTok age, his lockdown experience and songwriting:

* I first heard most of the songs in my book: on the radio, portable record players, jukeboxes. My relationship to them at first was external, then became personal and intense. The songs were simple, easy to understand. They’d come to you directly, let you see into the future.

* Nowadays I listen to music: on CDs, satellite radio and streaming. I do love the sound of old vinyl, especially on a tube record player from back in the day. I bought three in an antique store in Oregon about 30 years ago. The tone quality is so powerful and miraculous, has so much depth. It always takes me back to the days when life was different and unpredictable.

* I discover new music: mostly by accident, by chance. If I go looking for something, I usually don’t find it. In fact, I never find it. I walk into things intuitively when I’m most likely not looking for anything. Performers and songwriters recommend things to me. Others, I just wake up and they’re there.

* Streaming has made music: too smooth and painless. Everything’s too easy. Just one stroke of the ring finger, middle finger, one little click, that’s all it takes. We’ve dropped the coin right into the slot. We’re pill poppers, cube heads and day trippers, hanging in, hanging out, gobbling blue devils, black mollies, anything we can get our hands on. Not to mention the nose candy and ganga grass. It’s all too easy, too democratic. You need a solar X-ray detector just to find somebody’s heart, see if they still have one.

* When you hear a great song: you get a gut reaction and an emotional one. It follows the logic of the heart and stays in your head long after you’ve heard it. You don’t have to be a great singer to sing it. It’s bell, book and candle. It touches you in secret places, strikes your innermost being. Hoagy Carmichael wrote great songs, so did Irving Berlin and Johnny Mercer. J. Frank Dobie, Teddy Roosevelt and Arthur Conan Doyle probably could have written great songs, but didn’t.

* I can’t listen to music: passively, because I’m always assessing what’s special—or not—about a song and looking for inspiration in fragments, riffs, chords, even lyrics.

* Technology is like: sorcery. It’s a magic show, conjures up spirits, it is an extension of our body, like the wheel is an extension of our foot. But it might be the final nail driven into the coffin of civilization; we just don’t know. Nikola Tesla, the great inventor, said that he could take down the Brooklyn Bridge with a small vibrator. Today, we can probably do the same thing with a pocket computer. Log in, log out, load and download; we’re all wired up.

* Creativity is: a funny thing. When we’re inventing something, we’re more vulnerable than we’ll ever be. Eating and sleeping mean nothing. We’re in “Splendid Isolation,” like in the Warren Zevon song; the world of self, Georgia O’Keeffe alone in the desert. To be creative you’ve got to be unsociable and tight-assed. Not necessarily violent and ugly, just unfriendly and distracted. You’re self-sufficient and you stay focused.

* Very few songs of today will: go on to become standards. Who is going to write standards today? A rap artist? A hip-hop or rock star? A raver, a sampling expert, a pop singer? That’s music for the establishment. It’s easy listening. It just parodies real life, goes through the motions, puts on an act. A standard is on another level. It’s a role model for other songs, one in a thousand.

* I write songs when: the mood strikes me, not with a set routine. My method is transportable. I can write songs anywhere at any time, although some of them are completed and redefined at recording sessions, some even at live shows.

* While writing my book, I read: books about songwriting and music history, like Arnold Shaw’s “Honkers and Shouters” (Macmillan, 1986), Nick Tosches’ “Dino” (Doubleday, 1992), Guralnick’s Elvis books. But “Philosophy of Modern Song” is more of a state of mind than those.

* Technology doesn’t really help me: relax. I’m too relaxed, too laid-back. Most of the time I feel like a flat tire, unmotivated, positively lifeless. It takes a lot to get me stimulated, and I’m an excessively sensitive person, which complicates things. I can be totally at ease one minute, and then, for no reason whatsoever, I get restless and fidgety; doesn’t seem to be any middle ground.

* I recently binged: “Coronation Street,” “Father Brown,” and some early “Twilight Zones.” I know they’re old-fashioned, but they make me feel at home. I’m no fan of packaged programs or news shows. I never watch anything foul-smelling or evil. Nothing disgusting, nothing dog ass.

* To stay physically active: I box and spar. It’s part of my life. It’s functional and detached from trends. It’s a limitless playground, and you don’t need an app.

* I think social media sites: bring happiness to a lot of people. Some people even discover love there. It’s fantastic if you’re a sociable person; the communication lines are wide open. You can refashion anything, blot out memories and change history. But they can divide and separate us, as well.

* Lockdown was: a very surrealistic time. Like being visited by another planet or by some mythical monster. But it was beneficial, too. It eliminated a lot of hassles and personal needs; it was good having no clock. I changed the door panels on an old ’56 Chevy, made some landscape paintings, wrote a song called “You Don’t Say.” I listened to Peggy Lee records. I reread “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” a few times over. What a story that is! I listened to The Mothers of Invention record “Freak Out!,” which I hadn’t heard in a long, long time. Frank Zappa was light years ahead of his time. If there’d been any opium laying around, I probably would have been down for a while.

* I keep touring because: it is a perfect way to stay anonymous and still be a member of the social order. You’re the master of your fate. But it’s not an easy path to take, not fun and games.

* The style of music I first loved was: sacred music, church music, ensemble singing.

* But my favorite music is: a combination of genres. Slow ballads, fast ballads, anything that moves. Western swing, hillbilly, jump blues, country blues, everything. Doo-wop, the Ink Spots, the Mills Brothers, Lowland ballads, Bill Monroe, bluegrass, boogie-woogie. Music historians would say when you mix it all up it is called rock ’n’ roll. I guess that would be my favorite genre.

* In the book, I thank: the “crew from Dunkin’ Donuts” because they were compassionate, supportive and they went the extra mile.