Classic Rock Crate Digger is a column I write for the Rhapsody Blog.

I’ve seen Don’t Look Back numerous times over the years, and I still don’t see the “Dylan is making Donovan look like a fool” meme that has become rock ‘n’ roll mythology since the documentary’s release in 1967. You know what I’m talking about: the legendary, or as some would have us believe, infamous hotel scene when Donnie croons “To Sing for You,” then passes the guitar to the Mighty Quinn, who offers up “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.” It’s a cool slice of history for sure, one of the 1960s’ great songwriters hanging with one of the century’s great songwriters. Yet more than a few folks out there — and you know who you are — have transformed this scene into one of Western civilization’s classic beat downs. Here’s their interpretation: poor British Donovan, looking all awkward and sheepish, is auditioning for the Man, who is loud and obnoxious and who eventually interrupts him. Dylan then snatches the guitar from Donovan — still looking all awkward and sheepish — and proceeds to intentionally blow him out of the water with a cocky and brazen version of one of folk rock’s most famous songs.

There are a couple problems with this reading. First off, Dylan does interrupt Mellow Yellow, but only to say, “Yeah, that’s a good song, man.” And it is. So basically what we have here is Bob Dylan — I repeat, BOB F’N DYLAN — complimenting another songwriter. That’s not rude and obnoxious; that’s praise of the highest order. Second, Dylan isn’t snatching the guitar from Donnie. The six-string is getting casually passed between folkies who are sitting around the proverbial campfire. Pay extra-special attention, and you’ll notice Donovan actually holds on to the guitar a second longer than he should while politely asking Dylan to play “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.” If you know anything about the Man, then you know taking requests from fans isn’t one of his strengths. Yet he makes an exception for Donovan. That’s a sign of respect.

Where did the myth of the beat down originate? I think it’s primarily an American phenomenon. I could be way off base here, but it seems as though Donovan, however talented, comes off a little twerpy in Don’t Look Back. He’s basically Potsie to Dylan’s the Fonz. America doesn’t like twerps (though indie rock has helped change this attitude a wee bit). Plus, it’s also about the Revolution coming back into play. We’re watching one of our own seize history right in front of the very people that we like to overgeneralize as snobs who think of us as nothing more than backwoods hillbillies utterly devoid of culture. He’s kicking ass and taking names, and we love it.

Now I’m mentioning all this because despite my Yankee roots I dig Donovan a lot. His legacy is far richer than a handful of psych-pop novelties and a cameo in Don’t Look Back. True, he’s no Dylan, but the dude produced some truly boss jams. He also exerted a considerable influence on pop music history, particularly in the United Kingdom. Rhapsody has just acquired two quality reissues from Donovan’s late-1960s period, the epic A Gift from a Flower to Garden and the criminally overlooked Open Road, both of which testify to the guy’s talent and sway.

During the last decade, vintage British folk-rock and psychedelic folk have found an audience here in the States, stuff like Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span, Vashti Bunyan, Tyrannosaurus Rex, Fresh Maggots, the Incredible String Band, Comus and Pentangle. And of course, these icons are the chief inspiration behind that modern movement known as freak-folk: Devendra Banhart, Espers, Joanna Newsom, etc. A lavish, 22-track box set released in 1967, A Gift from a Flower to a Garden, doesn’t contain any truly classic singles, yet it’s obvious from just a cursory listen that the basic concept of fusing British-tainted folk music and psychedelia was something Leitch explored before nearly every artist I just mentioned. This is particularly true in the case of Marc Bolan and his early work under the Tyrannosaurus Rex moniker. On the albums My People Were Fair and Had Sky in Their Hair… But Now They’re Content to Wear Stars on Their Brows and Unicorn Bolan sounds like a straight-up Donovan clone.

Unlike A Gift from a Flower to a Garden, which was a popular album at the time of its release, Open Road marks the beginning of Donovan’s commercial decline. Though the British folk-rock he helped spawn had become a popular trend by the time the album was released in 1970, Leitch himself had already ossified into a relic unfairly associated with hippie-dippy antics and the Summer of Love, all of which fell out of favor seemingly overnight. Interestingly enough, Open Road isn’t terribly psychedelic. It’s Donnie getting all rootsy and stripped down. Exquisite both in terms of composition and production, the record is his all-around best, I think. It exudes a homespun warmth and love for the pastoral that echoes early efforts from Nick Lowe’s Brinsley Schwarz, Help Yourself, Unicorn, McGuinness Flint and other Brit bands then inspired by the rural rock of the Band’s Music from Big Pink.

Open Road might not have raced up the charts, but folks were surely digging the album big time, and those folks included Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. At least, that’s my theory. To these ears, the tracks “Clara Clairvoyant,” “Changes” and “Song for John” sound like blueprints for the kind of druid-flavored pop-metal found on Led Zeppelin IV, Houses of the Holy and Physical Graffiti. Donnie’s influence on Zep isn’t that great of a secret (the band often soundchecked with a rendition of “Season of the Witch”). However, to find such connections on an album that’s not considered essential speaks to both Page and Plant’s good taste and to the Hurdy Gurdy Man’s deep well of great tunes. As Dylan once said, “That’s a good song, man.”