Play it really, really loud

On May 17, 1966, there was a Bob Dylan concert at Free Trade Hall in Manchester, England.

The concert, like the rest of the shows on this UK Tour, was divided into two sets. The first set was acoustic: Dylan, an acoustic guitar and a harmonica. Dylan strummed through quiet old songs like "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue."

The second set was electric: Dylan, a four-piece band called The Band, two electric guitars, an electric bass guitar, an organ and a drum kit. During this set, Dylan and The Band scorched through loud new songs like "Ballad of a Thin Man," "Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat" and, the finale throughout the tour, "Like a Rolling Stone."

In city after city, and certainly that night in Manchester, the audience response was the same. They loved the old songs. Throughout the first set, they showered Dylan with love, cheering the folk singer as if he were some kind of strumming messiah.

And they hated the new songs. They booed, hissed, and heckled each time Dylan and The Band plugged in. They revolted against the electric noise and yelled "stop playing!" and "go home!"

That night in Manchester, things got particularly hairy. Late in the show, above the normal boos, some fan screamed "Judas!" The audience collectively gasped, then collectively clapped. Apparently, by offering new ideas, Dylan was a traitor.

Dylan was slow to react. Eventually, he crept to the mic, faced the crowd, and leered, "I don't believe you. You're a liar!"

Then, strumming the opening chords of "Like a Rolling Stone," Dylan turns around, faces his band, and yells: "Play it fuckin' loud!"

For years, this concert has fascinated me. To me, it represents a classic battle: Old versus new. Old ideas versus new ideas. Old sounds versus new sounds. Old visions versus new visions.

The audience was clearly comfortable with old ideas. When Dylan played his old songs, they politely clapped and cheered. The audience was clearly uncomfortable with new ideas. When Dylan played his new songs, they booed and hissed.

This is quite common.

Most people, when faced with new ideas, become confused. They become close-minded. They become defensive. They become fearful.

They boo. They hiss. They heckle. They harass.

And they cling -- sometimes with seemingly superhuman strength -- to old ideas.

If you look around these days, you'll notice that most of our ideas -- war, torture, benefits for billionaires -- are old ideas.

Many of us seem to be quite comfortable with old ideas. Some of us are addicted to old ideas, unable or unwilling to wean ourselves away from them. We stay the course.

Some of us follow old ideas in order to fit in. Some follow old ideas out of boredom or out of laziness. And some follow old ideas because they lack the energy to simply pause, just once, and say, "please, no more."

So, then, let's end with a question.

Considering our times -- our troubled times -- are you going to be a part of the audience, warmly serenaded to sleep by old ideas? Or will you be part of the band, with the need, desire, courage and creativity to belt out new sounds and ideas?

If you picked the first, the audience, I feel sad. It probably means you're scared.

Or defeated.

Or old.

Or tired.

Or bored.

If you picked the second, the stage, rock on. It probably means you've got something to say. It probably means you've got some curiosity, creativity and courage. And it probably means you've got some soul -- something we certainly could use a bit more of these days.

Finally: If you're on the stage and have a new idea, please consider Dylan's advice and play it really, really loud.

David Silver is an assistant professor of communication at the University of Washington.