George Starostin's Reviews 

BOB DYLAN

"I see my light come shining, from the west unto the east"

 General Rating: 5

Introduction

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Disclaimer: this page is not written by from the point of view of a Bob Dylan fanatic and is not generally intended for narrow-perspective Bob Dylan fanatics. If you are deeply offended by criticism, non-worshipping approach to your favourite artist, or opinions that do not match your own, do not read any further. If you are not, please consult the guidelines for sending your comments before doing so.

This page also hosts comments from the following Certified Commentators: Michael Battaglia, Jeff Blehar, Ben Greenstein, John McFerrin, Nick Karn, Thomas McKeown, Sergey Zhilkin.

Introduction

Robbie Zimmerman is an extremely complicated kind of guy. You can spend weeks, months and maybe years trying to catch him by his tail, and when you finally think you got him he suddenly turns around and says something like "hold it, pal, you're not gonna make me that easy". Over the years he's made albums that were praised as the greatest albums of all time; albums that were trampled over as the most horrible trash in the world; and albums that were both. He's had so many 'peak periods' and 'down periods' throughout his career that it is not even possible to discuss him in terms of peaks and downs.
The truth is that Bob Dylan is a genius. And an absolute genius at that. He never thought too much, nor too carefully, about the making of his songs. He just wrote down things that flew through his head. And all of the time he has been deceiving people. First, they thought he was a folk singer - he deceived them. They thought he was a drug-addled psycho - he deceived them. They began to think he was a country-western minstrel - he deceived them. He was none of those. He was (and still is, I dare say) a genius. The essence of his sound lies in its introspectivity, that's my humble opinion. All of his songs are about himself, about all the sides of his life, be they good or bad. And he never cared about which of his sides the people appreciated most. And - once again - he was a genius. And he gets a 5. And you should like him, 'cos if you don't - you don't know what music is all about.
And please don't think of me as of a stupid Dylan deadhead that's ready to lick the man's toes in any case. The reason I don't prattle too much about Dylan flaws (like quite a few witty reviewers like to do) is that these flaws are obvious. He's got an 'unbearable' voice, his melodies are for the most part rudimentary, many of them jibbered from traditional folk songs and most of the others falling into the standard blues pattern, and he often gets much too repetitive and even 'boring' in the objective sense of the word. But all of these things are so much on the surface that discussing them seems a task fit for an idiot. That's the exact reason why nobody usually brings them up. The bad sides are obvious. I might just have to add that it's easy to cope with these sides once you stop thinking about Dylan's singing and songwriting in the conventional terms of singing and songwriting: frankly speaking, his creativity transcends all conventions. Sure, his voice is gruff and wheezy: but wasn't he the first rock'n'roller to prove to the world that you could get away with singing without having to sound like Elvis Presley or Frankie Avalon? His singing style has served as the primary inspiration for hundreds of performers, including such outstanding acts as Lou Reed and Jimi Hendrix. It's just not what you're going to expect. Unfortunately, people seem to be divided in two major groups here: those that get his singing and those that don't. The first group (which includes your humble servant) think he's a great singer, highly emotional and in a class of his own, using his vocal chords as a peculiar musical instrument all the time. The second group either thinks he's talentless or, at the very best, that his songs always sounded better when sung by other performers. And nothing can change the opinions of either, and I do mean nothing - I've held numerous battles defending poor Mr Zimmerman from those who say they'd better go listen to their toilet flushing than put on a Dylan record. Whatever. I guess this has something to do with your genes after all. Nevertheless, it is always better to 'get' something than 'not to get' it (this is my primary belief about art: always try to like it), so I say that if you don't 'get' Dylan there must be something wrong with your genes. Now feel free to flame me.
It is not entirely true as well that Dylan's primary strength lies in his lyrics. Sure, he was one of rock's greatest poets, and certainly the main force behind the 'lyrical revolution' that took place somewhere in the mid-Sixties, when people finally started listening to songs like 'Mr Tambourine Man' and getting away from the permanent 'girls-and-cars' thematics. And he's indeed a great poet. He started off as a funny, rambunctious folk singer, then descended into full-bodied psychedelia and afterwards just kept flooding the gates with one layer of imagery after another. Again, some people complain about the utter nonsense and incomprehensibility of his lyrics, but somehow people often forget that lyrics are not prose: you do not go around 'understanding' lyrics like you 'understand' prose. Much more often than not, Dylan's lyrics just convey a mood, a general feeling, maybe a vague idea, and an endless stream of entertaining, intriguing, and sometimes downright hilarious wordgames. I mean, everybody knows that 'Ballad Of A Thin Man' is a protest song, right? Right. And then they go on complaining about lines like 'give me some milk or else go home' and say 'THAT's protest? Man, you're whacky!' This is beat poetry, little dude. You won't be hearing direct calls like 'up against the wall mutherfuckah' in every second line. On the other hand, just think of the angriness of the lyrics. Think how Dylan goes around hitting poor Mr Jones on the head again and again and again. These lyrics might seem to be random crap - but try to substitute them with your own written random crap and you'll see nothing will work better. Stream of consciousness, but that's a consciousness of a genius.
However, like I said, it's not just the lyrics that make a Dylan song sound great. It's the way that everything is combined - the rudimentary melody, the gruff whining, the lyrics, the attitude, and Bob's own superb guitar and harmonica playing. By the way, Bob's really a unique harmonica playing dude - be sure to check out his early acoustic albums to particularly appreciate that, but, well, he's always been great at supplementing the emotions of his voice with the emotions of the little metal bar. His guitar ain't particularly impressive, but first-rate anyway: he's actually done his folk homework, and done it fully.
Incidentally, Bob has been often hailed as 'the greatest put-downer' in rock: this is probably true, but it's only part of the story. What often escapes the listener and the reviewer is that Dylan is really a small humble guy. He was never a big commercial star, with just about a handful of chart-topping LPs (most of which came in the Seventies, way past his peak hour). He never really cared for success: maybe he didn't really shun it, but he always made clear that his primary aim in this world was not making money or screwing chicks, and success never really got to his head. He only went for a slight commercialization of his sound in the Eighties, making the fatal mistake of incorporating disco elements in his music; but he's come back with a bang since then, and if only his poor health won't fail him, we may yet hear a significant word or two from Robert. He wrote songs that hardly ever made you stand up and shake your hips or sing along to some sentimental romantic melody; instead, these songs went straight into the very depths of your soul and spoke to you on a personal, intimate level - a thing that neither the Beatles nor the Rolling Stones, as much as I love them, could never pull off. The proof is that whenever I listen carefully to a Dylan song or try to sing along to it, I always end up putting myself in Bob's place and trying to feel the things he felt. It's amazing how such simplistic songs as 'Mr Tambourine Man' or 'Gates Of Eden' or 'Stuck Inside The Mobile' can get under your skin and change your life forever. This, of course, is only possible if you manage to get rid of the shackles of conventional singing and conventional songwriting - I sure did, and I'm both glad and proud about that. You really gotta live up to the good sides of Bob Dylan. You have to take the presumably 'bad' sides as a given fact even before you start listening to the first Dylan song in your life. You just have to concentrate on other things, ya know? Now on to the reviews before I start talking metaphysical.
Due to its largeness, the page has been split in two parts: this one covers everything Dylan released from 1962 to 1974, the second part which you can either access from any of the links to particular albums or by following the link at the bottom of this page, deals with the post-1974 catalog, starting with Blood On The Tracks.

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ALBUM REVIEWS
BOB DYLAN

Year Of Release: 1962
Record rating = 5
Overall rating = 10

Old folk covers. But it's Dylan that sings, and that's something.
Best song: HOUSE OF THE RISIN' SUN

His first 'have-at-it' try; it's got only two of his own compositions ('Talkin' New York', a funny spoken commentary on his being received in Big Apple, and 'Song To Woody' which could be regarded as a kinda 'dedication' of his entire creativity to that ol' man folker), but you even hardly notice - they sound oh so derivative from the rest of the folk stuff he's covering on here. In fact, this album is not very significant musically, but it sure provides a lot of insight into Bob's roots: after listening to it a few times you begin to understand all those incessant country and folk cliches of which his early acoustic albums are chock-full. Songs like 'Highway 51 Blues' were certainly the inspiration for 'Highway 61 Revisited', and I've always thought the melody of 'It's Alright Ma' was pure Dylan until I've heard its origins on this LP.
But then again, all of this material is quite listenable. Not essential, but nice. Actually, at that point Bob had already penned quite a few compositions of his own; however, as a humble beginner, he had to prove that he was qualified enough for singing his own material by recording all those covers. I do not think, though, that he took it as a heavy burden: the songs are all lively and fresh and almost breathing, and Bob has really great taste, as most of the numbers have something to them. (The most amazing thing, of course, is that there were tons of similar or even better stuff left unreleased, as amply demonstrated by The Bootleg Series). Thus, his rendition of 'House Of The Rising Sun' is not an ounce worse than The Animals' version, even if it's played with just an acoustic, without those organs and all - perhaps the generated feeling is just not as ecstatic and cathartic as in the Beasts' case, but then again, you will never want to accuse the Dylan version of being 'pretentious'. Note also that Bob sings the song with the original lyrics - daring not to change lines like 'it's been the ruin of many a poor girl/And me, oh God, I'm one'. So in this here case it ain't metaphoric and gives the listener a clear picture of what 'the house' really is, which makes the song all the more poignant. As far as I understand, the legend that the Animals learned the song from Dylan's version turns out to be, well, just another legend in the endless series of rock legends, but it's still nice to have both hanging around to do the comparisons. The funny thing is that Dylan's debut also includes his rendition of Ric Von Schmidt's 'Baby Let Me Follow You Down' - a song that was later reworked by Burdon, Price and Co. as 'Baby Let Me Take You Home' and was something like the band's first single or the band's first hit single, whatever. Again, though, I far prefer Dylan's version (though the Animals' is by no means bad); later on, he made the grotesque move of rearranging it as a rip-roarin' live electric number in order to piss off his braindead folkish fans. Check it out on Live 1966, it's groovy.
There are also faster songs on here - like 'She's No Good' and 'Freight Train Blues' that make you want to boogie with a minimum effort, even if essentially they're just 'whizzed-up' generic blues numbers. However, on 'She's No Good' Bob arrives on the scene with all his might - squirming and squealing out the lyrics all the while furiously beating the shite out of his acoustic, and, while the uninitiated may vomit on the spot and go throw on some Engelbert Humperdinck instead ('anything but THAT rusty engine hum!'), I find it to be an exuberant, enthusiastic statement of youth, force and good clean fun. Later on, Bob would become much too serious for these tricks. And 'Freight Train Blues'? In his review, Brian Burks called his vocal efforts on that one the equivalent of a 'hoarse vocal feedback', and I couldn't agree more. 'I got the freight train blue-oo-OOOOOOOOOS...' Personally, I laughed my pants off first time I heard that wheeze, and apparently, Bob felt inclined to laugh as well - noticed these funny 'whoa-hoo-hoos' after each verse? Hah!
However, don't get the impression that the record is just a hilarious throwaway. Nope, the so-much-beloved death theme is reprised many a-time - in 'Gospel Plow', 'See That My Grave Is Kept Clean', 'In My Time Of Dyin'', etc., etc. The funny and gloomy songs are interspersed in a very, very bizarre way, so that you're really left puzzled as to what old Bob's real emploi is, but get used to it: this is just the first of the cute little mystifications that Bob would soon start throwing at us in bunches. As for the songs themselves, 'In My Time Of Dyin' is a great deal more effective than that horrendous eleven-minute hard-rockin' Led Zep version on Physical Graffitti: Dylan never tries to transform the song into a lengthy self-indulgent dirge full of crappy vocal and instrumental noises, just sticking to the essence, and his passionate vocal delivery is one of the best on record. 'Man Of Constant Sorrow' is supposed to give us the creeps, and 'See That My Grave Is Kept Clean' ends the record on a gloomy, dreary note - just like 'She's No Good' started it on an upbeat note, despite the endless 'wanna lay down and die' refrain.
Still, even if he intended to make this album really depressing, he failed. The songs are good, but they're not really Dylan: see, no generic folkish lyrics are gonna depress me any more than your average death metal song. Except for 'House Of The Risin' Sun', which is truly scary due to the 'grounded' character of the lyrics and its being based on a true or, at least, a realistic story, I personally just don't feel any real darkness here, at least, it's not more dark than Freewheelin', an' dat 'un shoah ain't dahk wo'th a penny!

In my time of dyin' I'll still be posting your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Barry <bgkla@conncoll.edu> (11.10.99)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

THE FREEWHEELIN'

Year Of Release: 1963
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 14

The big acoustic breakthrough. Hard to get used to, but that's about the only complaint...
Best song: A HARD RAIN'S A-GONNA FALL

The real bursting out on the scene occurred here - with 13 tracks, not a single one of 'em a duffer! This time, young Bob was so assured of himself that he dared to make almost all of this album consist of his own compositions, and they're darn good. At least three or four of them rate as some of his best-known material: thus, everybody loves the great epic 'A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall' which puts to shame all the folk singers and songs all around the world with its majestic, pompous and truly epic lyrics (and I do mean 'epic', not in that grotesque 'Stairway To Heaven' sense, but rather in the great Homerian tradition) and the gorgeous 'call-to-arms' refrain. Actually, I suppose the song's lyrical matter is close to 'The Times They Are A-Changin', but in a much more veiled, sophisticated and poetic way. The grooviest memory related to that song I can recall is that Dylan once said something like he had actually planned every one of the endless imagery lines in that song to be the beginning of a separate tune, before he changed his mind and lumped them all together. Might be a hoax, of course, but ever imagined the possibility of Bob's catalogue being doubled through this witty manoeuvre?
The more introspective, slightly misogynistic 'Don't Think Twice It's Alright' is yet another timeless classic here: if you ever doubted that Dylan could pen a great melody, here's your chance to disprove it. (Of course, it's probably a rip-off, but that's a problem to be solved). A bitter, yet tender 'bybe bye love'-style ditty, it hits you with all the might of the Bobster's weird, by now softer, gruffer and more melancholy tone, and the effect is unforgettable. And for some hard feelings, don't forget to check the all-time human rights anthem in 'Blowin' In The Wind', a song much too famous for me to describe it here, and the violent, almost bleeding protest notes in 'Masters Of War'. For the record, this is the only song in which Bob lusts for someone's death, by the way: never after would he repeat these maniacal, vampirish lines: 'And I hope that you'll die/And your death will come soon/I'll follow your casket/By the pale afternoon.." Groovy. Some gentlemen complain about the song sounding ridiculously dated and ineffective today, but I just don't get it. Now if there were no more 'masters of war' in the world today, I would understand; but the problem is just as actual today as it was fourty years ago. Okay, perhaps there was no need to get that violent; but at least it's kinda interesting, and certainly a unique expression of straightforward anger in Bob's entire catalogue (not counting minor protests like 'Hurricane').
But the anthemic classics are not the only thing to be enjoyed here. Bob's gruff, intentionally raw ballads are equally brilliant. 'Girl From The North Country' is a gorgeous, sad love song, and Bob's intentionally off-key, stuttering delivery of the lyrics gives it the kind of authenticity that Johnny Cash could only hope for. And as for the humourous parts - well, there's plenty to be found: 'Talkin' World War III Blues' and 'I Shall Be Free' can kick the belly out of you! Listening to these songs still makes me wonder how a guy with such a blistering sense of humour could almost completely have lost it in just a few years... anyway, that verse about Adam and Eve should rank as one of the world's most flabbergastingly brilliant jokes. Remember it? "Well I spied a girl and before she could leave/I said 'let's go play Adam and Eve'/I took her by the hand and my heart it was thumpin'/When she said 'hey man you crazy or sumpthin'/You know what happened last time they started". And I never actually thought about it before, but what about that verse about the 'folk singer' who 'works herself blind' in 'I Shall Be Free'? Could it be a veiled hint at Joan Baez or not? 'Writes me letters and sends me checks'. Hmm. Probably not. Then again...?
As you have probably already understood, this is still a straightforward folkie album - which means most of the time it's just Bob and his trusty harmonica. The major exception is a primitive-band-take on the traditional 'Corrina, Corrina'; it can strike you as extremely awkward on first listen, but you'll get through after you get used to the arrangement. Just don't try to remind yourself of the Taj Mahal version.
Certainly the peak of Dylan's folk period, it was a great inspiration for tons of people, including 'em damn Beatles; still, I wouldn't give this record a super rating, primarily because it's that listener-unfriendly: it takes a lot to get used to everything. After all, it's almost hour-long (at that point, Bob obviously had no respect for the fourty/fourty-five minute barrier, not to mention the three-minute radio barrier, of course), and, while I can easily tolerate folk music in general, an entire hour of guitar and harmonica is a wee bit too much even for me - what about all the hard-rockin' people out there? Once you do assimilate it, though, you'll probably ask me to pump up the rating yourself. After all, guitar or no guitar, this is a great album for inventive folk players to draw their inspiration from. Just listen to 'Down The Highway', for instance. Essentially, it's just a simple blues tune, and lots of artists would just play it as a simple blues tune. But Dylan re-arranges it drastically, with that great crescendo guitar phrase after each line, and bringing his vocals close to a real wolfish howl: notice how brilliantly he does the closing line of each verse. 'LORD I REALLY MISS MY BABY-EEEEEE-EEEEEE - she's in some far-off land...' I mean, ain't it brilliant? A great, great use of dissonance: bring all the passion and fury and howling into the first half of the line and then quickly chew up the second half as if it were nothing but an equivalent of some ad-libbed 'oh yeah' or something. That's the trick that Dylan employs on many, many more songs, although always in a different way, and it always works for me. A terrific way to expand the capabilities of conventional singing, if you axe me.
Nevertheless, a couple of the tunes like 'Bob Dylan's Dream' still do nothing for me, so I'm gonna leave the rating as it is. For any artist of a lesser stature than Dylan, this would be a solid ten without a doubt; but the amazing thing is that Bob could do better, and he did - at least twice or thrice. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case with his next album, though.

Don't think twice, it's alright! Just mail your ideas

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Mike Zupan <viktoria@siol.net> (09.11.99)

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Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

Michael Battaglia <Dhalgren99@aol.com> (07.12.2000)

THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGIN'

Year Of Release: 1964
Record rating = 4
Overall rating = 9

A forced-out album of protest songs. Fortunately, Bob was tougher than the fat guys thought him to be...
Best song: THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGIN'

Apparently Mr. Zimmerman was having lots of pressure from his folk companions (and the record company, too) who wanted to have him put forth a real protest song album - you know, with no shit like 'A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall' and other stuff which was obviously too artsy and snobby to be appreciated by the braindead folk audiences. So this is exactly what you get here - ten protest songs with straightahead dumb lyrics. 'So what', people say, 'Bob is so smart he can't really pen truly dumb lyrics, and what do you have against protest songs? At least they're honest!' Well, the problem is that anybody can do protest songs - and Bob was spinning in circles where virtually every second dude like Peter Seeger or d... er, what's the feminine of 'dude'?.. or Joan Baez, anyway, were protest song writers. They probably didn't do their stuff much better than Bob does it on this album - but they sure didn't do it worse, either. Trying to market Bob Dylan as a second-rate Phil Ochs was more or less similar to trying to market the Beach Boys as a third-rate Surfies: both attempts were made, and both failed, fortunately for us listeners and popular music in general.
What's even worse, ninety percent of the melodies here are nothing but recycled waste from the previous album. Some of Bob's guitar playing is still fascinating, as ever, but it almost never hooks you like those ragged, broken lines of 'Down The Highway', for instance. And these songs are LOOONG - I mean, I never got tired of the long stuff on Freewheelin', but here, much too often it's like walking down a long long alley with two high walls on both your sides and pretty much nothing else in sight. Needless to say that none of the songs feature even a slight saving touch of humor - protest songs make you weep and repent, don't they? Deadly serious, like in 'Masters Of War', but far more generic and less convincing.
Of course, my complaints do not refer to the title track - one of his most well-known anthems of all time. The lyrics for 'The Times They Are A-Changin' are excellent and certainly capture the essence of the Sixties' cultural revolution like nothing else. Whether it's actual or not nowadays is another question - it probably depends on whether you have or don't have a generation conflict in your neighbourhood. The vocal melody is fabulous, too: that majestic Biblical intonation was only captured by Bob a couple of times since, most notably on 'Gates Of Eden'. It's a pity that the rest of the album seems so rushed out - perhaps, if only Bob had given himself (or was given) more time, he could have turned it into a protest masterpiece after all.
Apart from the title track, there is a little bunch of classics or semi-classics here - this I must confess. 'One Too Many Mornings' has its moments, being a sad, mournful little ditty with a melody suspiciously reminiscent of... the title track. I actually prefer the live versions of that one - particularly the electric workout on Live 1966, but even the newer one on Hard Rain will do - simply because the tune works better if drastically rearranged. 'When The Ship Comes In' is also renowned, and first time around I almost missed it, but now it's coming in again as the groovy little gospelish chant as it is. Oh, I mean, it ain't jolly or funny or anything, but it's probably the only song on the whole record that doesn't openly batter your brains out with its heaviness or darkness or sadness or anything. 'Oh the time will come up when the winds will stop...' Almost sounds like a nursery rhyme, or something country-western, doncha think? And be sure to check the Bootleg Series for a superb piano version of that one. Also, 'Boots Of Spanish Leather' would be a great song... were it not 'Girl From The North Country' with new (and worse) lyrics: pretty, but far more generic and less inspired.
Some of the songs also point forward to better things to come - I'll be darned if you can't spot the grandeur and majesty of 'My Back Pages' in the beginning of each verse of the endless, dragging 'Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll', for instance. And the brainwashing lines of 'Only A Pawn In Their Game'? Why, later on you'll be glad that they actually were here, as the same principle is applied to 'Mr Tambourine Man'. Right? But that would be later. For now, you just have a short taster, and tons of filler in addition. And since the melodies are overall so darn unimpressive (I simply can't stand mediocre yawnfests like 'North Country Blues' or 'Restless Farewell'), you can't but concentrate on the lyrics, and since they're the usual kind of lyrics you can get from reading Joe Hill stuff and suchlike, you'd better be off somewhere else.
Songs like 'Ballad Of Hollis Brown' and 'With God On Our Side' are particularly rotten in that respect. I really can't believe Bob wrote the lyrics. Maybe it was really Joan Baez? Can you tell me? 'Hollis Brown' tells us the grim fate of a working class hero who ended up shooting all his family: sad, but, once again, I'd rather hear about it from Peter Seeger. Then again, I must admit that the lines 'There's seven people dead/On a South Dakota farm/Somewhere in the distance/There's seven new people born' are absolutely brilliant, and could hardly have been penned by anybody than Bob himself. On the other hand, the lyrics to 'With God On Our Side' are dumb to the extreme and destroy every bit of that frightening impression that was induced by 'Hollis Brown' only one song earlier. Gee, I hate protest songs. For some reason, they often dress everything in black and white, and the results are often stupid and sometimes cretinic. What does that verse about the second world war really mean, for instance? 'We forgave the Germans/And we were friends/Though they murdered six million/In the ovens they fried/The Germans now too/Have God on their side'. Perhaps Bob would like us to fry all the Germans in the ovens as well? What was he thinkin'?
This is certainly NOT the essence of Bob, and I'm almost sure he really did not care much for this album. Even his poems (the so-called '11 Outlined Epitaphs') that can be found among the liner notes show how far he'd already advanced by that point. Mind you, I'm not saying this album truly sucks: take any of these songs on its own and it'll turn out to be great - that is, if you haven't heard Freewheelin' before. Together, and in the general context of Bob's work, they're utterly derivative and dumbly straightforward; just the thing you'd expect from a fully conventional and, let's face it, artificial record. Avoid this album if you're not a completist.

With God on our side, we'll make it if you mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Mike Zupan <viktoria@siol.net> (09.11.99)

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Kelly Laabs <laabsk@southwestern.edu> (22.04.2000)

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John Caulfield <JCaulfield@justice.gov.za> (11.09.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

Brian Adkins <badkins@mail.calltech.com> (10.11.2000)

Michael Battaglia <Dhalgren99@aol.com> (07.12.2000)

ANOTHER SIDE OF BOB DYLAN

Year Of Release: 1964
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 13

Not really innovatory, but very solid. Even more serious and more humorous, too.
Best song: CHIMES OF FREEDOM

Continuing the line of Freewheelin' and not Times - thanks so very very much, Bob! Funny, around that time he started receiving letters from protesting folkies accusing him of 'selling out'... letters that would increase next year, of course, when he went electric; and one of the main complaints about him was that he was indeed 'selling out' - getting chewed up by the pop industry and marketed as an inoffensive pop star. In retrospect, though, it's obvious that it was vice versa: the industry would have loved to market him as a protest folkie, since protest folkie records sold well. Instead, he went the other way, cheated, deceived everybody and came out totally transformed. Another Side finally presents Bob as the kind of Bob we know and love - not Pete Seeger and the like. Perhaps 'Chimes Of Freedom' can still be viewed as a more or less straightforward protest song (although it certainly goes far beyond protest), but the rest here has nothing to do with rioting on the streets or Russian bombs or hungry farmers with seven kids. Well, there are references to farmers here, in 'Motorpsycho Nitemare', but these certainly have little to do with protest either...
Anyway, this one's much more introspective - and therefore Dylanish - than the previous album. Bob's still riding the fully-acoustic vibe at that point; the electric piano used on 'Black Crow Blues' may give us a slight hint at things to come, but it did take Bob the Byrds' arrangement of 'Mr Tambourine Man' to be convinced of the full power of the electric guitar. So right now, folkie fans of his still had nothing serious to be scared of. Whatever be, the songs are mostly super: perhaps the songwriting is a wee bit less tight and hard-hitting than on Freewheelin', but at least the melodies are for the most part original, except for 'I Shall Be Free No. 10', which is quite logical, as it's a natural successor to 'I Shall Be Free'. (Did he really do eight more sequels in between? Ha ha!)
As the arrangements are all so incredibly similar, the main difference is in the mood, of course - this is where Bob gets his royalties, see? Almost every song sets a different mood, not the easiest thing to expect from a folkie. Some are very, very sad: 'Ballad In Plain D', though definitely not my favourite on here because it drags on at a snail pace for far too long (I have my own Dylan limits, too, see?), is nevertheless a gentle, moving ode to a lost love. Others are also a bit sad and thoughtful, but with a touch of understated majesty that only Dylan could pull off - yup, it's the brilliant 'My Back Pages' I'm blurbin' about, mister. You probably heard that one in the Byrds' arrangement, and it's definitely more accessible and all, but for Chrissake they transform it into a pop tune! How can a pop tune equal the subtle mystery and tenderness of a fresh young enthusiastic Zimmerman delivery? Not that the Byrds did it bad, mind you, but... just try to get into it a bit deeper, 's all I got to say. And just wait until I get around to bashing Hendrix's cover of 'All Along The Watchtower'...
The sad, of course, is interspersed with the groovy. I've always considered 'I Don't Belive You' as filler until I heard the live version on the Live 1966 CD, whereupon I went back and it finally struck me as yet another in an endless series of moments of subtle glory (wow, my English is rapidly improving). The melody is twisted but catchy, the lyrics are thoughtful but fun, and it presents the matter of lost love in an entirely different light from the one in 'Ballad In Plain D'. Funny that both are placed in sequence - after the fun, the sadness. What a clever arrangement.
And then the hilarious grooves. Ooh these hilarious grooves. For my money, Bob was never funnier than on this album. 'All I Really Want To Do' makes a perfect job of opening the album - it's as if he's inviting you to share all the fun, and the amusing wordgames of the song are unforgettable. 'I Shall Be Free No. 10' narrates some more comical situations, and 'Motorpsycho Nitemare' will get you going in no time as Bob narrates the story of his miraculous escape from a farmer and his daughter. I suppose we frame these lyrics as some of the greatest examples of 'intelligent comedy' of the twentieth century.
And now comes the majestic - 'Chimes Of Freedom'. It's a real pity he didn't have time to include it on Times: the song could have more or less fit in thematically, and at the same time it's so much more mature and free-flowing and lyrically competent that it makes me wonder... but nah, I've already condemned Times, no need to go rehashing all the stuff. If you can tolerate the song's length (I sure can), there are no other possible flaws to be thought of. Actually, this is Bob's second impressive display of his visionary power (the first was 'Hard Rain'), and just as indisposable a classic as 'Desolation Row' or 'Sad-Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands', whatever you have to say about it.
And kudos to Bob for ending the album on a 'low' note - hymns are hymns, and epics are epics, but deep inside Bob is just a plain simple fella: a weak, humble, unpretentious little Jewish dude who says so in 'It Ain't Me Babe' (well, he doesn't exactly say he's a Jew, but we know that, right? Why make a fuss of it anyway?) The song's yet another fabulous classic (gee, I'm tired of epithets, and I've only just begun). Just don't listen to it in that dreadful Turtles version.
The major problem with the album is that, while most of the melodies are more competent and independent than last time around, they're still extremely raw, so you still listen to the lyrics most of all. Listening to this album, it's hard to believe that less than in a year's time Bobbie would earn the fame of one of the world's greatest composers. Here, perhaps only 'I Don't Believe You' and the weird chant of 'Spanish Harlem Incident' have more or less 'outstanding' melodues.
But enjoy it, still: enjoy the word-games of 'All I Really Want To Do', the plain fun of 'Nitemare', the great singing on 'Chimes', the general atmosphere which is one hundred percent Dylan. I originally gave the album a seven, but I've changed my mind. There ain't a single bad song on here, after all. Not a single! Still, old Bob would do even much better in the future, so I guess an eight will have to do.

All I really want to do is to post your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (24.02.2000)

Fredrik Tydal <f_tydal@hotmail.com> (17.03.2000)

Kelly Laabs <laabsk@southwestern.edu> (22.04.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

Michael Battaglia <Dhalgren99@aol.com> (09.12.2000)

SUBTERRANEAN HOMESICK BLUES

Year Of Release: 1965
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 13

Dylan goes electric, but some of the best songs on here are acoustic. The most dazzling paradox in history.
Best song: SUBTERRANEAN HOMESICK BLUES

(NB: the original version of this LP was entitled Bringing It All Back Home. Remember this when you start searching the racks).
Seeing that, like you know, everybody was playing plugged at the time, and probably also seeing no future in pure folkish delight, Zimmerman suddenly made a quick shift, grabbed himself a Fender (or was it a Gibson? I'm not too sure of such things) and recorded a complete electric side. It was still a treading of water, though, as Side B is complete acoustic. Nevertheless, it nearly cost Bob his fame at that particular moment, and up to this time remains as one of the bravest radical decisions in rock music - hey, perhaps Dylan's funny self-comparison with Columbus on 'Bob Dylan's 115th Dream' is not as unmotivated as you would have thought the other day. His falling out with the folkie scene in general is legendary, as of now; back then, it was kinda dangerous, and included death threats and all kinds of shit from rabid 'protest song' thugs who only expected another Times and claimed that Dylan had sold out to the all-devouring pop industry. Well, time has corrected all the accents, including putting the protest thugs in their correct historical place (which is 'wastebin') and putting Bob on his deserved pedestal. Time is on our side, indeed.
Anyway, the electric side here is slightly weaker than the acoustic one. Paradox? Might be. Of course, it totally revolutionized rock at the time, but not in a Beatles- or Hendrix-like style. I mean, most of the melodies here are primitive, some of them following the obvious fast blues pattern ('Outlaw Blues', 'Maggie's Farm'), while some of them are just the same as on his previous album, only electrified and sped up ('Bob Dylan's 115th Dream'), and Bob's backing band is essentially just a garage outfit with next to none instrumental virtuosity (still sounds exciting, tho'). What really made the difference were the lyrics that were set to these melodies: psycho, trippy, absurd and some of them purely paranoid. The title track boasts four enormous verses, all sung in slightly more than two minutes - 'Johnny's in the basement mixing up the medicine I'm on the pavement thinking of the government...', etc., something absolutely amazing in a yet relatively primitive rock world. 'She Belongs To Me' is, musically, just a simple piece of generic blues-rock; lyrically, it masterfully ridiculizes traditional love songs with lines like 'bow down to her on Sunday, salute her when her birthday comes/For Halloween buy her a trumpet and for Christmas give her a drum'. And the beautiful 'Love Minus Zero/No Limit' (which features the only great melody on Side A, with marvelous descending guitar lines after each phrase that almost bring tears to my eyes) establishes a completely new type of a rock love song: that of a gorgeous, heartfelt epic, yet definitely unmarred by the by now traditional 'wanna hold your hand' cliches. Instead, the lyrics branch out in all directions, with that wonderful stream of conscience that links the 'Her' of the song to all kinds of imaginable and unimaginable situations... well, you just gotta hear that one yourself. 'Maggie's Farm' and '115th Dream', on the other side, continue the line of Bob's earlier humorous tunes. The former is more or less a protest song, in the same sense that 'Ballad Of A Thin Man' from the next album is a protest song: of course, it's clear that the 'farm' in question is a metaphor for the whole world, and you can easily guess the true nature of all of Maggie's relations, but then again, you can twist it all back and pretend that it's just a funny pastiche, nothin' else. Bob's vocals sound really cool on that one, though - fresh, exuberant, angry and a little bit lazy, as if he were too tired to discuss the whole business. And as for the hilarious 'discovery of America' that Bob narrates about in 'Bob Dylan's 115th Dream', well, he's taking his 'pseudo-biographical' excourses a bit too far on here, as the lyrics jump from one psycho image to another without a halt for six minutes. Wouldn't that be a bit too long, you'd ask me? Nope. The story's so funny I can't get enough of it. Not to mention that silly burst of laughter that opens the song...
So what's the deal, actually? Well, the melodies. We all know Bob is not a great melodist, but this here side, apart from 'Love Minus Zero', has some of the least imaginative tunes whatsoever. 'On The Road Again' and 'Outlaw Blues', while they are short and I never get tired on them, are just unadorned garage-blues-rock kind of stuff; '115th Dream' shares the same melody with 'Motorpsycho Nitemare'; and it's not that easy to tell the intro to the title track from the intro to 'Maggie's Farm'. It would get a little better next time around, but it's obvious that musical creativity is not an element that really bothered Bob during this period. Not to mention the problem with arrangements: everything is so raw and unpolished that you can't help but yearn for a little spin of Blonde On Blonde...
Therefore, if it's melodies you're interested in, it's Side B that is the real highlight of the record. Four acoustic tunes on there, each one a gem and a classic. Funny, isn't it? The man quit the well-trodden 'acoustic path' just as he was at his absolute, undeniable peak as an acoustic, folksy songwriter. I guess it's hardly even necessary to introduce these four songs - they're among Bob's most well-known and cherished numbers. Okay, maybe only 'Gates Of Eden' can't hope to be an acknowledged classic, but in my opinion, it should be one, as it surpasses even 'Chimes Of Freedom' in its majesty. The graceful, stately Biblical imagery of the lyrics, delivered in his most convincing 'prophetic' tone, might be seen as pretentious, but he knows what he's singing about, and the song is so powerful I easily lift off my hat to it.
And 'Mr Tambourine Man'? It has Dylan's most memorable refrain, and also features some of his most astonishing poetical imagery ever; for some reason, I have always thought of the song as depicting the feelings of a slightly dizzy, slightly happy young man coming home in a misty fog after a particularly good and booze-heavy party. (Not that I can easily identify with such a person, mind you). The dreadful crime is that some people actually prefer the Byrds' version of it, whining about how the song's underarranged and boring and repetitive and how the Byrds used all those lovely harmonies and made it really soar blah blah blah... The Fools! I dearly love the Byrds' version myself (just as I love Hendrix's version of 'All Along The Watchtower' and all those masterful Rod Stewart covers), but for Chrissake, the Byrds just made a good pop song out of it, whereas Dylan's original transcends the limits of pop, folk, everything. Its underarrangement and subtlety only adds to the general impression. Yes, brothers and sisters, I'm sorry, but my final verdict is: unless you learn how to love 'Mr Tambourine Man' as sung by Dylan better than as sung by the Byrds, Dylan is definitely NOT your personal cup of tea, as it is, for instance, mine. Arrangement and vocal harmonies aren't everything in the world.
Okay, sorry for that little self-indulgent digression. Anyway, I was just finishing; I'll just add that the gloomy, enthralling 'It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)' is Dylan's best take on psycho social commentary on here, with lots of classic quotations-turned-cliches like 'even the president of the United States sometimes has to stand naked' and so on; and 'It's All Over Now Baby Blue' should probably represent his proudly saying goodbye to his folk past. It was his last purely acoustic song (guitar/harmonica) in oh so many many years...  well, not so many, really, certainly not if compared to eternity, but for the next two years, at least, he contented himself to only playing fully acoustic on stage. Goodbye, Bob the funny folkie, hello, Bob the angry rocker. In case you're not aware of it, the following two records of his were his absolute peak and two of the most important rock records ever.

It's all right ma, I'm only waiting for your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Fredrik Tydal <f_tydal@hotmail.com> (16.01.2000)

The Kelly's <jakelly@bright.net> (30.01.2000)

Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (24.02.2000)

Kelly Laabs <laabsk@southwestern.edu> (22.04.2000)

Evan P Streb <savage1561@juno.com> (16.07.2000)

Neema Parvini <Parvini1@aol.com> (30.09.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

Michael Battaglia <Dhalgren99@aol.com> (09.12.2000)

HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED

Year Of Release: 1965
Record rating = 10
Overall rating = 15

Professional, deep and rich. A psycho's paradise.
Best song: LIKE A ROLLING STONE, of course (even though I adore JUST LIKE TOM THUMB'S BLUES)

Even better. No more acoustic side, but never you mind - he's finally learned to set his melodies to great electric backing as well. Maybe the record doesn't really deserve ALL of the hype that it gets, just like Blood On The Tracks, but it certainly deserves most of it. Out of the nine tunes that he's recorded this time, there ain't a single bad one... hell, not a single less-than-brilliant one. Okay, if you really want me to denounce some of the 'filler' on here, you should probably seek it out among the few songs whose melodies are indeed underdeveloped, left off in favour of the unforgettable lyrics. Thus, 'Tombstone Blues' is a simple ferocious blues-rock tune played at a terrific speed - garage rock indeed. Perhaps it might have been a couple verses shorter, but then again, if we start speaking in these kinds of terms, nearly everything on here should be a couple of verses shorter, and that's the main point of the record. These songs were intended to be long and long they will stay; take it or leave it. On the other hand, the furious, paranoid guitar breaks in between the verses, coming from axeman Mike Bloomfield, are enough to redeem any possible lengthiness. And, whatever you say, nobody played that fast at the time - not even the Stones. Another song that's more or less 'fillerish' is 'From A Buick 6': same old blues, same old blues, ladies and gentlemen. Even so, extremely memorable, if only for that naggin' refrain 'she's bound to put a blanket on my bed'. Plus, I really love how the instrumentation is handled on that particular track: the organ, the guitars, the bass, the drums, everything is tightly locked together in a fast, exciting 'rush-towards-the-end' groove, tighter than anywhere else on the album.
But that's it for the 'fillers'. All of the other tracks are, at best, classics, at worst, semi-classics. You probably all know the famous drum bang! that introduces the swirling Al Kooper organ riff of 'Like A Rolling Stone', Bob's personal signature and his most tattered musical visit card. Much as I've already got tired of the endless live versions, not to mention covers, of this song, the original still sounds awesome whenever I put it on. Probably because that energized, concentrated anger and 'musical termination' of the social female character he ridiculizes can never sound dated or out of place. But, huge as it is, the song never really overshadows all the rest of the classics on here. The title track is great fun, with all the whistles and the lyrics that use the notion of 'highway 61' as a metaphor for something positively mystical (death? life? God? Who knows? Go ask Mr Zimmerman himself!)
'Ballad Of A Thin Man', then, is one of his best counter-cultural products. The song borrows its unforgettable bombastic piano chords from Ray Charles' 'I Believe To My Soul' (I remember spending long endless sleepless nights trying to remember where the hell did I hear these chords before, until I suddenly fell upon a valuable Net resource that informed me of the source), and the gloomy, heavy-handed interplay of Bob's electric piano with Paul Griffin's organ sets the perfect scene for his lyrics, an ideal composition that subtly alternates patches of utter silliness ('you're a cow! Gimme some milk or else go home') with masked, but very poisonous attacks on the braindead yuppies ('you've been with the professors, and they've all liked your looks/With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks...', etc.), every single one of which ends with a devastating 'you know something's happening, but you don't know what it is, do you, Mr Jones?' If anything, 'Ballad Of A Thin Man' is Dylan's psycho equivalent of the completely straightforward 'The Times They Are A-Changin', and far more artsy, subtle, delicate and thought-provoking at that. And what a great polygon for philologists!
As you already understood, a lot of keyboards are heard all through the album, and they're good, solidifying and expanding the sound so that it never gets boring; particularly on 'Thin Man' and the great 'generic' blues 'It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry'. Yeah, I put the word 'generic' in quotes intentionally. The song is essentially just a slow, dreary blues tune, but the lyrics, Dylan's tinkling, crystal clear electric piano (what a great instrument that one is - why the hell don't people use it much more than they do?), and the skillful, powerful harmonica blasts throughout make it an instant classic with me. This is the kind of blues I've really been wanting to hear all my life, along with Cream's 'Strange Brew' and Led Zep's 'You Shook Me'.
Meanwhile, 'Queen Jane Approximately' is often viewed as more filler, but I disagree emphatically. Every time I hear it, it moves me to tears, and I'm serious. Are those lyrics really meaningless? Perhaps. But I think I sense an idea in the text, and the idea is that of the opposition of loneliness and friendship: the line 'won't you come see me Queen Jane' evokes visions of compassion and mercy in my head, and it's one of those songs that make me a better man whenever I listen to them. No kidding. There's great ethical potential here - you just have to see it. And I don't even care that the melody is generic...
Finally, the closing eleven-minute 'Desolation Row' is a gorgeous ballad which never gets boring: the title has long since become a cliche, the desperation, pain and pessimism of the sad, ironic lyrics has never been topped by Bob (certainly NOT on Blood On The Tracks), and the little acoustic guitar flourishes in between each line add an element of taste and musical beauty that would be lacking otherwise. I don't worship it nearly as much as 'Sad-Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands', though, because the melody is too simple and the arrangement too spare to justify eleven repetitive minutes. I can forgive him, though, as the lyrics are far too interesting to be cut off simply because of some stupid time limit. Anyway, you just push the 'stop' button whenever you feel tired, as it's the last track on the album. I know I never have to push it.
ButI deceived you! I saved the tastiest bit for last! Yup, ladies and gentlemen, my personal long-time favourite on here is certainly 'Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues'. Ever heard that one? Slow, lengthy, dripping, yaaaawning and sleepy, it shuffles off at a moderate pace with Bob sounding as stoned out of his head as possible. Absurd and extremely humorous at the same time, this is probably his best effort at 'ridiculous psychedelia'. And the melody... I just love the melody: it sounds as if it is destined to put you off to sleep, but it never does. More electric piano. More powerful harmonica. More excitement. And my favourite lyrics on the whole album: 'now all the authorities they just stand around and boast/How they blackmail the sergeant at arms into leaving his post'. I won't explain why; I don't suppose I ever could if I tried, so you just think about it yourself.
Some people say that this album is a bit too derivative, being just a rip-off of the previous one. I wouldn't agree with this, because, even if it is obviously continuing the line of Subterranean Homesick Blues, it is not repeating it but rather developing it, carrying it further and further. After all, that one suffered from terribly elemental melodies; here they are elaborated to a near-perfect state. That one was purely experimental, since Bob wasn't sure about his skills as a rock musician; this one is self-assured, steady and boiling with energy. Needless to say, it was hugely influential, pushing the Beatles and tons of other bands to further heights; but screw 'influential', even today it sounds not the least bit dated. Feel free to start here if you're new with Dylan; along with the following one, it's Bob at his quintessential, and it's certainly much easier to get into on first or second listen than Blonde On Blonde. And if you're not able to get into it, you'd better not mess around with rock music at all - obviously, it's not the kind of field you should be most interested in.

It takes a lot to laugh, it takes a little to mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Nick Karn <glassmoondt@yahoo.com> (10.12.99)

John McFerrin <stoo@imsa.edu> (15.12.99)

Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (24.02.2000)

Rose Mary <raponte@prtc.net> (25.03.2000)

Kelly Laabs <laabsk@southwestern.edu> (22.04.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

BLONDE ON BLONDE

Year Of Release: 1966
Record rating = 10
Overall rating = 15

Deeper. Richer. Even more wonderful. A timeless classic, this is the place to start.
Best song: SAD-EYED LADY OF THE LOWLANDS, but they're all great!

And yet even better! This time Bob pulled out so many prime songs out of his sack that it was decided to produce a double album (the first double album in rock, actually). And what an album it is! Very often hailed as one of the greatest albums of that epoch, together with Pet Sounds, Sgt. Pepper and other epochal albums, and I agree one hundred percent. Every new time I pull it out of the CD box and cram onto my trusty deck, there's something new to be discovered - unless I decide to put it on twice a day, I'll probably never get tired of this one. Fourteen songs on here, and once again, not a weak track in sight.
What's the news, you'll ask me? Well, the news aren't exactly that important. Bob's songwriting is at the peak, the lyrics are as trippy and absurd as ever, but there is a certain depth both in the melodies and the texts that was lacking on Highway 61 Revisited. The ballads are gentler and 'wiser' than on the previous albums (for that matter, there were no ballads on Highway 61), the epic anthemic songs acquire a 'universal' sound, being introspective and overwhelming at the same time. The arrangements have never been more complex, Bob's voice never sounded more convincing, and all the other advantages you can figure out for yourself.
Hey now, it's so great that it probably would be necessary to discuss all the tracks in their exact running order. The album opens with 'Rainy Day Women # 12 & 35', a title that has little to do with the actual lyrics. It's an incoherently jolly tune about being stoned (in fact, it's so jolly that a lot of people seriously believe it's Bob's hymn to drugs which it isn't - it's just another social commentary). Quite a few reviewers bash the hell out of it, but I don't really see what the fuss is about - sounds so dang funny and absurd to me, that I can easily overlook the fact that Bob's sole aim on here is to make a complete fool out of himself. A job well done! One of the greatest comic anthems of all time.
'Pledging My Time' comes next. It might be seen as one of the weaker tracks on here, as it's just one more generic blues, and you have to enjoy generic blues in order to love it. Two factors, apart from the obvious lyrical interest, redeem it: the ferocious, mind-blowing blasts from Bob's mouth organ, and a deep, echoey production that makes it unusually bombastic and creepy. Obviously, production values have improved since last year. Favourite lyrical moment: 'Well they sent for the ambulance/And one was sent/Somebody got lucky/But they say it was an accident'.
'Visions Of Johanna' is the first epic ballad on here, and if you're not moved to tears by the third listen, well... what can I say? Just listen to it one more time. I've always thought that it's not really Bob's voice that produces such a terrific effect, but rather the way he's using it - his strange intonations and pauses, and 'Johanna' obviously is the proof to my thoughts. But the song's truly hidden charm lies in the subtle, never obtrusive swirling layers of organ played softly in the background. Yup. Just a couple of quietly strummed guitars, a moderate drum track, and that organ. And the vocals. The song should be played late in the evening, when you're alone, with dimmed lights and an absolute silence all around. Otherwise, the charm might not work; it's a 'spiritual seance' ode, after all. Favourite lyrical moment: 'Inside the museums infinity goes up on trial'.
'One Of Us Must Know'. What can be said about that one? At one time, it was easily in my Top Five Dylan songs; since then, I've heard enough new material to shove it a bit further down the line, but I still hold a soft spot for it. Musically, it's a strange optimistically-pessimistic (indeed) winterish kind of ballad adorned by snowy organ in the background. Some of Dylan's most strong and hard-hitting imagery ever on that one. I still don't understand why the song evokes visions of winter - most probably, it has something to do with the girl Dylan sings about wearing a scarf and the organ imitating the howl of the icy wind.
'I Want You' is the next number: a fast, very singalong-style ballad with probably the most crazy lyrics on the whole album (although 'Sweet Marie' comes close). Again, it's a love song, this time a song of longing, not of grieving. Some people can be heard complaining about how Dylan completely abandons the 'protest' elements on Blonde and begins his 'mellowing' out. Well, what's wrong with that, I ask? If you really want to have the 'protest' element close at hand, please go and enjoy The Times They Are A-Changin'. Me, I'll happily stick to this here masterpiece, as I'm thoroughly impressed with Dylan's total and absolute revolution in the love song field. Ever tried singing 'I Want You' to your beloved one? And what, prithee, was her reaction to the lines 'well I return to the Queen of Spades and talk with my chambermaid'? Heh heh. This is certainly a love song for the initiated ones.
The darker, bitter 'Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again' takes us through a set of curious situations, all of them pointing to a lack of direction and a dead end, thus being the really 'sad' track on here. Again, the organs, plus the occasional 'twirl-twirl' of the lead guitar in your right speaker, make the listening experience unforgettable. Remember what I said about much of Dylan's lyrics being senseless from a formal point of view but always conveying some kind of general feeling or idea? Well, that's exactly what happens on here - my guess is that the song simply deals with the tragic, idiotic, pointless character of life in general. Depressing and pessimistic, yet at the same time so homely and cozy, as these guitars, organs, and Bob's soft, silky voice really make you want to identify your problems with the ones 'dealt with' in the actual song. Favourite lyrical moment (even if I sure as hell don't know why): 'Grandpa died last week/And now he's buried in the rocks/But everybody's still talking about/How badly they were shocked'.
Don't worry that much, though - after the bitterness we have the hilarious, amusing, and obviously parody-like blues 'Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat' with Bob playing lead electric guitar (probably the only time in his life). Again, the song attracts lots of protests from stupid blues-haters, but I absolutely dig it. Everything sounds so sloppy, raw and garage-style, and at the same time everything is so marvelously produced, including that fiery stinging lead break from Bob, that it's awful fun, more funny than the opening number, in fact. And how can one dismiss the genial character assassination lyrics? Nohow. Favourite lyrical moment: 'you might think he loves you for your money, but I know what he really loves you for - it's your leopard-skin pill-box hat'. Personally, I take this line as one of the most awesome statements of Bob's genius. It is pure genius, if only from a purely linguistic/philological point of view.
'Just Like A Woman'. This one you probably know - it's the most famous hit from the album, and I'm not gonna ramble for a long time about how it combines a gentle and touching melody with absolutely gross lyrics; even now my feelings towards this song are rather mixed. I mean, I adore the melody, but I can hardly bring myself to sing along with it. It's easier for me to sing along with Zappa on Joe's Garage, because Bob obviously takes all the matter much more seriously.
'Most Likely You Go Your Way' gives us another misogynistic piece, introduced by a great-sounding brass rhythm. Listen for the great brass-harmonica interplay on this one, never reproduced in any way by anyone ever after. The melody on this one is perhaps the album's most innovative, complex and solidifying Bob's reputation as a great composer. And the groovy war march drumming is... groovy. Favourite lyrical moment: 'you say my kisses are not like his/But this time I'm not gonna tell you why that is'. What a twist of phrase, my God.
'Temporary Like Achilles' is probably the only filler-looking song here, since its melody is way too close to 'Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues'; nevertheless, it's a bit slower and relying much more heavily on keyboards. If you plan to listen to the entire album in one sitting, better skip it first time around, as the effect might be a little tiring. I don't care that much about it, but at least it ain't bad. He just overdid the 'derivative' plank this time around.
Next we have my favourite short song on here - 'Absolutely Sweet Marie', with a jolly steady rhythm and a lot of Bob's most famous lines like 'to live outside the law you must be honest'. Somewhat misogynistic it is, too, but funny as hell. I wonder how the hell did Bob manage to resist laughing when he laid down the vocal track - we all know that he did that on numerous occasions ('All I Really Want To Do' and '115th Dream', for instance).
'4th Time Around' has often been called Dylan's parody on (or, at least, Dylan's equivalent of) The Beatles' 'Norwegian Wood', and it may well be (although it might as well not be, for that matters). Whatever, at least it is certainly one of the most emotionally resonant tracks on the whole album, generating feelings of sorrow, lost love and a somewhat melancholy, but at the same time optimistic future. The interplay between Bob's guitar and the mandolin in the right speaker (is that a mandolin? you tell me!) will never get out of your head once you've heard it.
The psycho rock'n'roll 'Obviously 5 Believers' usually tends to be overlooked, as it immediately precedes the magnum opus of the record, and compared to the record's highlights, it is indeed a bit 'fillerish'. But kudos to Bob for taking enough care of even the filler to make it of such quality that hundreds of bands would have killed for. A seemingly sloppy, but actually tight and competent rhythm section; the exciting ring and sting of the guitars; the weird harmonica bridge between the verses; the speed and the drive; and the usual lyrical strength. It happened to be one of the first Dylan songs I heard, and for that reason I never tend to skip or disregard it.
And, of course, the album closes with the 11-minute long 'Sad-Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands'. By all means, it is the most rich, luxuriant, majestic, epic, breathtaking, pathetic, etc., etc., etc. piece of art by Mr Zimmerman. Maybe not his best song, but certainly the most elaborate. I'd bet he spent more time working on this one than on all the other tracks here taken together. I won't even try to determine my favourite lyrical moment on here, there's so many of them. As Bob himself acknowledged in a song written ten years later, the song is dedicated to his wife Sarah; no doubt about it that it's one of the most unique praises of a woman by a man in the history of mankind. I agree that there MAY be times in your life when you'll be too tired to sit through the song in its entirety. In this case, better not listen to it at all - wait until you're in the mood. It could be thirty minutes long for all I care. Fourty. Fifty. Never mind. Deadly slow, horrendously monotonous, mind-numbingly repetitive, it is all that, but it has to be that way, and it'll stay that way forever.
Well, that's it - the introduction being made, all you have to do is rush out and get this album. By the way, Columbia Records made a good deal for everybody, dumping all four sides onto one CD. I wish they'd do the same to The Basement Tapes - so you wouldn't have to pay a lot more money for much less interesting music. Oh, and one more thing. Below, you'll see a reader comment that insists that this album will date, being superated by Blood On The Tracks because the latter is much more emotional. Well, all I have to say is this: if such is indeed the case, I pity the state of the human mind. Blood is a great album, as well, but a much more simple and easily accessible one: that's why it usually has more fans. Blonde is just as emotional as Blood, if not more emotional: sad, melancholy, optimistic, happy, angry and thoughtful at turns (not to mention that the blistering arrangements easily overshadow every single track on Blood). It's just that Dylan's psycho lyrics on this album are a bit too much to take for most people. They seem to think that if something is not openly laid out on your palm, shining through from all sides, it's not really worth your attention. They're wrong. Blood On The Tracks is a great album; Blonde On Blonde takes us further than simply an 'album', transcending the limits of music and taking us to places we've never been before and will certainly never be after.
And let me also say that I'm dreadfully sorry for the length of this here review (as of yet, it is my lengthiest ever), but Blonde is really more than a 'musical experience' for me. It is one of the most rousing LPs of all time, but it also stands apart from every other record ever released, and it really deserved a special treatment. Count yourself as one of my best friends if you share my feelings about it. And if you don't, just for my own sake, put it on one more time and try to immerse yourself in the richness, depth and mystery of that sound. It might be painful, but it will be rewarding. I promise.

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Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

LIVE 1966

Year Of Release: 1997
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 12

A great performance, but there's more historic interest here than actual enjoyment.
Best song: TELL ME MOMMA

The infamous 'Royal Albert Hall' bootleg finally officially released. Yes, it's not Dylan's first live album, as you might understand from the title, but chronologically speaking, it is, and, moreover, it's an absolutely priceless document. First, it's the only official live album belonging to the pre-motorcycle incident era, which featured quite a different live Dylan from the one we'd get to know later by such albums as Before The Flood or At Budokan. Second, this is probably the only live album by any major (or minor) rock (or any other) act on which you'll hear the performer being mercilessly booed. Of course, this doesn't have anything to do with the actual performances, only with Dylan putting aside the acoustic guitar and letting in a back-up electric band; but it's still fun and quite different from anything you'd expect from a major star live performance. Buy it for this fact if not for anything else.
Speaking of anything else... Yes, this album's historical significance clearly overshadows the actual listenability, but even so, there's a lot of entertainment and nice little tricks to be found. Now don't you please think that I consider the record to be unlistenable or something. It's actually quite good, and Disc Two is well worth putting on from time to time; the problem is, none of the songs superate the originals, and most of the acoustic renditions can easily be skipped in favour of the originals. And overall, the historic significance of the record is simply enormous, so if I say that it 'overshadows' the listenability, it's easily understood.
The first CD is the acoustic part of the show (which, by the way, wasn't played at the Royal Albert Hall at all, but rather at some Manchester lounge), with Bob clearly offending the audiences from the very start. Instead of singing his beloved political anthems like 'Blowin' In The Wind' or 'The Times...', he immediately goes in for a selection of psycho tracks from the last three albums. Most of them sound better on the original studio releases, I'll admit, primarily because they were played by a band and featured classy arrangements, while Dylan's acoustic and harp can hardly live up to the standard. Thus, 'Desolation Row' is a plain bore, without the cute little guitar sequences, and 'Just Like A Woman' can't qualify as well. Still, Bob brings up the best in his voice, and succeeds to make 'Visions Of Johanna' and 'She Belongs To Me' almost as fascinating as the originals. So at least nothing is bad here. The audience is also patient, politely clapping at the end of each song: I wonder what the hell were these stupid English audiences that came to glance at 'America's greatest protest song writer' sitting and thinking as he poured his hallucigenous imagery of '4th Time Around' or 'Mr Tambourine Man' on them.
Yet, CD 1 is just the introduction to the thunderstorm - a brilliant way to introduce it, actually, as you can't wait for things to get 'heated up', and the tension builds up immense. On to CD 2, where the backing band steps in. These are The Hawks who, within the next year, would become known as, sure enough, The Band. Here, though, they don't try to show off or even state their presence as an independent act: they limit themselves to a strict backing sound, and dammit, it sounds good, even if a tad monotonous. But the sound is loud, the guitar roars, the organ swirls, and Bob is clearly in top form as he recycles his early acoustic songs in new arrangements. Yes, I must specially state that this was one of his really nasty tricks: the old, straightforward acoustic songs are played plugged, while the new, mind-boggling electric songs are played unplugged. He couldn't have chosen a more intricate way of saying 'fuck you' to the audience. He was a brave fella, really! And he really pulled all the stops. This is not your Simon & Garfunkel 'we-wanna-look-like-rockers' business: Dylan really rocked live, playing loud, gritty, flashy and with total devotion, just the things you'd expect from a true rock band. Unfortunately, this also contributed to the boos: everything was so loud that all the theatres where Bob and The Hawks tortured their instruments simply couldn't bear the sound due to bad acoustics. And remember, the audiences didn't consist of little girls wailing to get screwed; they consisted of 'serious-looking' chaps that came to see the man curse the capitalist pigs with songs like 'With God On Our Side' and that viewed all 'rockers' as stinkin' pop sellouts. I do hope, though, that many of these chaps left the show converted.
So he gets booed again and again, with slow handclapping, cries of 'Judas' and whistles. He don't give a damn, though, telling some strange psycho stories through the mike and finally saying 'play fucking loud' before a crunchy 'Like A Rolling Stone'. Unfortunately, the sound on this second CD does suffer: the vocals on 'Ballad Of A Thin Man' (where Bob moves to a piano) are almost unheard, and too often the instruments mesh together in a really horrible mess. Quite as often, though, it does work, like on the fantastic fast opener 'Tell Me Momma' (as far as I understand, an obscure outtake which later turned into 'From A Buick 6') or on the re-arranged 'I Don't Believe You'. He even goes as far as to resurrect 'Baby Let Me Follow You Down' from his debut album, making it rock out just as hard! In all, if you don't mind the re-arrangements and the boos, you can really get your cup of tea out of this album. I do - sometimes.
I don't know the exact reasons for the official release of this album (maybe Columbia has gotten enough of seeing money flow right through its hands), but whatever they be, this was quite a reasonable thing to do. And yes, this sounds nothing like his later live albums (even though, to be honest, all of his live albums sound different), if only because it belongs to an entirely different epoch. Like I said, an essential historic document and a great show as well, despite all the problems with sound quality and the endless boos. And it's got the most beautiful photo of Dylan in existence on the front cover, too.

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Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

THE BASEMENT TAPES

Year Of Release: 1975
Record rating = 5
Overall rating = 10

Patchy, but that's understandable. An ex-bootleg with lotsa country songs. Some crappy, some not.
Best song: TEARS OF RAGE

At the peak of his career Bob eventually got into a motorcycle crash and subsequently dropped into a coma and out of the cultural and musical life of the Summer of Love. One can only wonder what album would have followed Blonde were it not so, and what would be Bob's part in all the movements of 1967. Instead, after the convalescence he locked himself up in New York, in the so-called 'basement of Big Pink' (or 'Big Punk', as I call it) together with The Band and started recording bunches of weird songs. The tapes were bootlegged for a long time, until in 1975 they were released officially. However, since all of the recorded material dates back to 1967, this is where it belongs in my chronology.
Such an affair as this, naturally, can't help but be somewhat patchy. There are some real gems here, but all are interwoven with lots of barely listenable, underarranged, throwaway filler. And it's not a necessary thing that Bob's songs are good and The Band's songs are not. Nope. It's just that this material wasn't sorted out (as for a regular studio release), and so for every good song you get one or two shitty ones. Naturally, Bob wasn't too hot about releasing this stuff originally; perversely, what would probably be dismissed by the thinkin' public were it to be released in 1967, had gradually turned into a legendary set of recordings, with multiple performers 'confiscating' all these songs to sing them themselves, starting from Bob's eternal bodyguards the Byrds and ending with Rod Stewart and even Fairport Convention ('Million Dollar Bash'). Needless to say, this is that unique case when the 'alien performers' managed to improve on Dylan, simply because they took the time to work on the songs and Bob didn't, although, given the circumstances, we can't really blame him for that.
I don't think many people would tend to disagree with me over the general assessment of the record. Tastes may, however, differ as to what should be considered as highlights and what should be considered as low points. I'll just list some of the songs that did manage to draw my attention, and try to explain why; but I don't guarantee the absolute truth on here (as a matter of fact, I never guarantee the absolute truth, but when you're dealing with somebody as slick and slim as Mr Zimmerman, you can particularly never tell). And before I proceed, please bear in mind that I don't really think of Tapes as a 'bad record'; rather a slightly misguided experiment. I actually enjoy most of the numbers, but, for the most part, as simply qualified background music. For Bob's own standards, which are the highest in the world (otherwise his artist rating would be lower), this is definitely mediocre at best.
On the first disc of the set, I particularly enjoy the album opener, the jolly countryish 'Odds And Ends' which sounds as if it comes straight from the Stones' Aftermath - especially if we consider that the sloppy sound quality perfectly matches the youthful intentional underproduction of Aftermath. 'Million Dollar Bash' is particularly memorable because of Garth Hudson's impressive swirling organ and the 'Oooh baby ooh wee' chorus. 'Lo And Behold!' is exceedingly funny, even if it sounds just like a slightly modified clone of the former, but I somehow find something intriguing in the line 'looking for my lo and behold!'. You? Meanwhile, the Band step in with a few noteworthy compositions of their own - 'Bessie Smith' is a beautiful, hard-hitting tune with more showcases for Garth Hudson's expert organ playing and very emotional, deeply moving vocals, while 'Yazoo Street Scandal' is an unexpectedly grim, spooky tune with echoey vocals, scary, ice-cold guitar tones and mystical lyrics wherein, to quote Greil Marcus, 'the singer is introduced to the local Dark Lady who promptly seduces him and then scares him half to death'. The song is really grim, much more than you'd expect from such a bunch of nice guys as The Band. The definite highlight of disc one, however, is the closing pleading ballad 'Tears Of Rage', arguably one of the few deserved Dylan classics on the entire set: while most of his songs here really serve to introduce his upcoming country-western period, 'Tears' apparently hearkens back to the Blonde period, with its lush, luxuriant background arrangement; in yet another sense, though, this song that has Dylan at his most broken-hearted since God knows when, actually, for the first time, I guess, also presages Blood On The Tracks.
Now disc two is even weaker. It has a couple more pleasant, but elementary countryish clones of 'Million Dollar Bash', like 'Yea! Heavy And A Bottle Of Bread', but even these are getting horrendously generic and annoying ('Tiny Montgomery', a song that strikes me with its complete pointlessness). So there's just two Dylan originals on here that I favour - the delicious, gentle 'You Ain't Going Nowhere', which I confess I only started appreciating after hearing the Byrds' version on Sweetheart Of The Rodeo, and the menacing blues of 'Long Distance Operator'. Oh, 'This Wheel's On Fire' is considered to be a classic on here, but for some reason I've never been able to perceive the deeply-hidden charm of that song, if it ever exists in the first place. Hell, the chorus has almost the same melody as 'Tears Of Rage' - a similar, but far superior song, with much more raw emotional power and far less bombast than here.
So what about the rest? Well, I won't be going on a song-for-song basis: there's just too many of them, and why should I engage in lengthy ramblings on tunes that have fewer potential than Rick Danko's left thumb? you tell me. Most of the rest is either plain derivative ('Orange Juice Blues' and a million other tunes that don't have the faintest smell of any original idea lying around), or just boring with no particular place to go (the lengthy 'Goin' To Acapulco'), or just silly (The Band's 'Katie's Been Gone'). Also remember that the stuff is obviously distributed in a bad way: the good stuff is mostly grouped on the first disc and vice versa. Oh, well. Even the traditional 'Ain't No More Cane', which should have been interesting in The Band's hands, is not so. But what would you expect of a long-time bootleg, anyway? And to think that you have to pay double price to get it, as it comes on two CDs! The worst thing is that the running time DOES NOT exceed eighty minutes, so it was fairly possible to squeeze this stuff onto one disc even without having to sacrifice some of the lesser tunes (although I wouldn't really mind). When I think that I have to pay twice as much for this as for Blonde On Blonde, that has more or less the same time amount of music, I really begin to get the feeling that the world is as irrational and illogical a place as can only be in the world. Then again, life would probably be pretty boring if everything were to be rational and illogical. Accept this as yet another undecipherable mystery of life and humbly go and buy The Basement Tapes for thirty bucks. Better still, rummage around in the used bins. You probably won't have to waste much time on the process.

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Clark <ckent23@ibm.net> (13.01.99)

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Caligula King <caligulatheking@yahoo.com> (06.12.2000)

JOHN WESLEY HARDING

Year Of Release: 1968
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 14

An amazingly sincere excourse into the 19th century. Heaven-like country music.
Best song: ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER

Along with Blonde On Blonde, this is probably the most intimate, spirit-uplifting listening experience that I ever get out of Dylan. I suppose that on some level the album's a solid ten, more so than, say, Highway 61; but then again, this is due to specific stellar moments, or to the general atmosphere. If taken on a song-by-song basis, there are a couple weaker numbers on here that don't really allow me to count JWH as Dylan's finest hour. Also, the length of the album - just thirty friggin' minutes in all - might be a bit off-putting for fans of the earlier period. (At least, it is so in the financial sense). I'll just content myself with saying that out of all the albums I've ever heard and reviewed, this is the most easy-going, smooth, gladly-attributed nine I've ever given out. No collection of 20th century music is complete without a copy of this record; and no rock or folk lovers' taste may be called acceptable if it can't adapt itself to its humble glory. And you all know I'm not the one who goes around giving out praises like these to just about any record that's immediately likeable. On the contrary, JWH, as nearly every Dylan album, takes some getting used to. It should never be listened to in an angry mood, and it should never be listened to as simply background music, like you listen to an average country or country-rock album. It doesn't 'kick ass' or 'rule supreme'. It's just genius.
On a 'historical' level, JWH opens a completely new trend for Bob - probably the greatest artistic revolution he's ever undergone. Even today, on latest albums like Time Out Of Mind, you can still see faint echoes of the same vibe, dimmed and subdued by the lengthy years, but not spent altogether. JWH was the first album that saw the light of the day after Bob did likewise after his infamous accident, missing the 'Summer Of Love' in the process, and it shows the man completely rejecting his past and adopting an altogether new style: hitting the country. But 'hitting the country' does not imply he adopted the well-known, banal, Band-style country. Just as well this does not mean the slightly cheesy, luvvly country style that Bob developed a year later, with Nashville Skyline, and went on to 'globalize' on Selfportrait. Both of these records were good and charming in their own way, but, after all, straightforward country is just plain straightforward country, independent of the player's originality, professional skills or emotional state. JWH, however, is different.
Difference number one is made by the incredible production of the record. Dylan dismisses all the lush arrangements he excelled in on Blonde and strips everything down, once again limiting himself to plain acoustic guitar and harmonica. And yet, this is not a return to the trusty folkie days of old: there is a rhythm section present on this record, with Charles McCoy on bass and Kenny Buttrey on drums. It might not be a great combo, but it sounds nothing like The Freewheelin', anyway. And when you listen to any selected song, you really get the impression that the guitar doesn't matter all that much: Bob rarely plays any interesting fills like he used to, for the most part sticking to simple, unadorned rhythm. The main accent is placed on his voice and harmonica playing, and this is where detailed attention should be paid. Now I don't know if the motorcycle accident really messed poor Mr Zimmerman's vocal chords, but fact is, he sounds far more whiny and pitiful than he did before - and I don't attribute that exclusively to the style he adopted; his voice was certainly changing, be it due to the accident or heavy smoking. But where it had lost in force and, perhaps, tolerability from the casual listener, it has more than gained in expressivity. With just a single line, any single line that starts any of the tracks on here, he's able to set a unique and mind-blowing mood, whether it be a depressive one, an angry one, a funny one, a romantic one or a preachy one.
And the harmonica? Mark Prindle once complained about its 'ugliness' and the fact that it was mixed way too loud, but I certainly can't share his feelings here, nor would I ever want to. To put it short, Bob's harmonica playing has never been better - before or since. While I always loved his harmonica solos, I must say that this is the first album where a harmonica solo is not treated simply as performing the function of an obligatory instrumental break. Instead, the harmonica sound brilliantly complements the song - it's as if the harmonica were taking on the function of Bob's voice for a while, agreeing to substitute whatever mood he was trying to set with the actual singing while Bob himself was taking a rest. And in that sense, the production is awesome: bringing the instrument out to the same level of loudness as Bob's voice only serves to accentuate the friendly 'competition' between the singer and the instrument.
The second difference is even grander, though: Bob completely changes his attitude. Where he once sang angry, protesting anthems, or brain-muddling, psycho songs that were still rooted in being in complete disagreement with the ways of modern society, he now sings about 19th century America and its problems, churning out most of the songs in a humble, almost self-deprecating, tone. Dylan the Protest Singer and Dylan the Trippy Freak now gives way to Dylan the Humble Preacher. In a certain way, that's the image he's had ever since; but on JWH, he combines it with such important elements as intriguing mystery, compelling storytelling, and visions of the country's past life, so that the preachiness never comes out boring or banal. Instead, it's as addictive as can be.
The very first song on the album, the title track, in which Bob slyly recalls the deeds of a notorious outlaw, stylizing it in the form of a traditional 'heroic ballad', has something downright captivating about it. Maybe it's the massive shock - try to put this on right after 'Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands' and you'll know what I mean. It's the total, almost defiant simplicity and unpretentiousness of the song that makes it such a treat: the lyrics are pretty straightforward, the melody as simple as can be (some say it's ripped-off of his own single 'Positively 4th Street', but it certainly isn't, as both songs can be independently traced to some obscure folkish originals), and Bob's voice humble and nonchalant. Every time I listen to it, I can't but get the feeling of this transformation - a teenage cult figure like Bob suddenly metamorphosing into an old, ruffled country minstrel singing a primitive, yet strangely deep and affectable ode to a bandit of days gone by. It's so strange and unique, this feeling, that I'm tempted to see 'John Wesley Harding' as an absolute classic - of course, taken out of context, it doesn't really mean all that much.
And yet, even this newly-found straightforwardness has its limits: Dylan immediately throws us into the illogical, absurd world of 'As I Went Out One Morning', a song in which the protagonist goes to visit Tom Paine, gets caught by a seductive girl and is only rescued from her clutches by Mr Paine himself at the very last moment. And hoopla, suddenly the mystery is right there in the air, and even Bob's voice descends from a happy whiny tone into a deeper, grumblier, prophetic tone as he tells the story of his misery: 'I offered her my hand - She took me by the arm - I knew that very instant - She meant to do me harm'. Notice the utmost care that Bob inserts into every single word, especially at the end of each line - the magic is stunning. Till this very day, the song remains a complete mystery to me, as I don't really get the message, nor do I get any particular mood or general idea from it; but hey, we all need a little mystery in our lives.
Then the mystery goes away, and is replaced by utter despair and a song so tragic and gorgeous in its essence that it brings me to tears every time I hear it. This is my second favourite on the album, and a number that you should always pplay if you want to convince somebody of Bob's greatness: 'I Dreamed I Saw St Augustine', a song where Bob narrates exactly the very fact. I am somewhat puzzled by the lines 'I dreamed I was amongst the ones that put him out to death', as I'm pretty sure St Augustine died his own death; therefore, the line should either be understood in a metaphorical sense or just attributed to Bob's unstoppable fantasy, as I can't really suspect him of simple ignorance. Nevertheless, this is one of his most effective and influential Biblical stylizations: slowly, moodily and with somber majesty he tells us how St Augustine tells all the kings and queens to 'go on your way accordingly but know you're not alone'. And the desperate ending - 'Oh I awoke in anger/So alone and terrified/I put my fingers against the glass/And bowed my head and cried' - is such a cathartic moment that only a person without a heart could hold back the tears while listening to it. Poor, poor St Augustine. Poor, poor kings and queens. Why the hell is this number so irresistible? I guess it has a lot to do with the vocals, as usual: they are not angry or preachy or reproaching, by any means, just so humble and so soft and so meek that they seduce you from the very first moment. It's like with the servants of the Church, you know: I don't feel that good about organized religion, usually, but I always feel a deep respect for soft-hearted, intelligent and understanding priests who not only know the words 'mercy' and 'tolerance' but know their true meanings as well. This is more or less the equivalent of Bob's expressivity on this track. And the harmonica blows away everything in the world, too.
Now the next song, the soaring anthem 'All Along The Watchtower', you're bound to know this one. Unfortunately, you probably know it due to the Hendrix cover which gets tons of airplay and has already equalled its position as one of the most overplayed 'classic rock' numbers, along with 'Stairway To Heaven' and 'Pinball Wizard' and suchlike. Now don't get me wrong: I like the Hendrix cover good as anybody. But I don't feel it is correct to really compare the two numbers, as Hendrix essentially took a Dylan number and edited the 'Dylan' out of it: the lyrics are the same, of course (if you neglect the fact that Jimi often contended himself with just one verse in concert, forgetting the others), but the overall feel, the message, the mood, everything else is completely different. The Dylan song in question is all built around that soft silky mystical aura that overfills JWH, and the beautiful, almost bewitching harmonica solos in between the verses set a mood full of little medieval charms: it isn't even about America, it's about the Dark Ages. 'Country-goth', I'd call it, a style never reproduced after. The Hendrix version is more of a regular psychedelic tune with wild guitar heroics, quite typical of Jimi; there's nothing mysterious or so vastly compelling there, except the soloing techniques... but wait, didn't I just promise not to compare the two songs. Stop stop stop and on we go.
Now the fifth song, 'The Ballad Of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest', which is also the lengthiest on here - the only number that goes well over five minutes, is the one I could easily live without. I'll be the first to admit that the story that Bob tells during these five minutes is fascinating, but more so as a poem than an actual song. In that respect, I might just as well be enjoying the hilarious 'preface' to the album about Frank and the three kings that's present there in the liner notes. But the melody is non-existent (just Bob blandly strumming his acoustic for accompaniment), Bob's intonations are intentionally devoid of any expression - he acts as if he were simply reciting poetry with little or no feeling, and even the harmonica doesn't really work; and five minutes of this stuff is somewhat hard to take. Same problem, only worse, would later be represented by 'Lily, Rosemary & The Jack Of Hearts' off Blood On The Tracks. For some perverse reason, the song often occupies the other reviewers' favourite spot - I still have trouble trying to figure out why. Probably has a lot to do with the lyrics; but in my humble opinion, Dylan has never been able to get away with lyrics and lyrics alone. And there's little but the lyrics to be lauded on here.
'Drifter's Escape', which opens the second side, is an obvious improvement, though. The story here is far less compelling as it is more straightforward; it's simply a tale of a 'drifter' sentenced to death or something worse ('the jury cried for more') and how he managed to escape punishment during the panic created by a lightning bolt. But the melody is somewhat more upbeat and involving, more or less in the style of the title track, and Dylan's funny impression of a bleating folk singer is enough to redeem all the straightforwardness. Not a highlight, but solid and a good distraction from all the emotional uplift and torment of the other numbers. It's also interesting that Hendrix (obviously a great fan of the album, too) did a not uninteresting electric version of this tune as well, recently unearthed and issued on South Saturn Delta.
'Dear Landlord' introduces the first significant change in sound - it's piano-based instead of guitar-based, and this significantly influences the mood. This is the kind of sound that would be much more typical for Dylan's subsequent releases (Selfportrait and especially New Morning), a sound that's far more cozy, relaxed and homely than the dangerous mystery of the guitar/harmonica interplay on the previous cuts. The song is structured as a leaseholder's plea to his landlord not to sell off his property or something like that, and Bob's self-humiliating intonations are again at work. While the song is never 'sharp' enough to bring me to tears (how long can one cry over such a short album, anyway?), it's still unbelievably sincere and heartfelt: the lyrics might be a bit witty for the occasion ('I do hope you receive it well/Depending on the way you feel that you live'), but the general feel can't be argued about.
Ah, but then comes one of the three definite highlights on side two - the sneering, sarcastic 'I Am A Lonesome Hobo'. The opening bloozy harmonica suggests you're in for something special, and that's exactly what you get: this time Dylan impersonates a hobo, indeed, but it's not a hobo that simply sits there and whines about his misery. It's not a hobo that's ready to take up a gun and shoot off every rich capitalist swine's nuts, either. It's a hobo with a devastating, cynical view on the world - as a place where everything is so bad in the first place that it can simply never be repaired. 'Kind ladies and kind gentlemen/Soon I'll be gone', he says, and it's obvious that he's more like a wandering poor philosopher than a simple feeble person. This is also a 'lesson against jealousy', but that's another matter. Again, the sneering intonations, the sardonic blues of the harmonica and the society-bashing lyrics combine to produce a true classic.
'I Pity The Poor Immigrant'. What can be said about that one? Suffice it to say that it's hard to believe the song was written in twentieth-century America, at a stage when the hardship and toil of immigration, while still existing, were far from the hardship and toil the poor immigrants were suffering a hundred years ago. I have not the least doubt that, were it penned sometime around 1840 or so, it would have without a doubt turned into the most popular 'Immigrant Workin' Song'. Lyrics like 'I pity the poor immigrant/Who tramples through the mud,/Who fills his mouth with laughing/And who builds his town with blood/Whose visions in the final end/Must shatter like the glass/I pity the poor immigrant/When his gladness comes to pass' hit the bulls' eye so precisely it's a real wonder. Add to this the slow, stuttering, almost senile delivery (Dylan's heartfelt impersonation of the poor immigrant), and you'll simply never be the same again after hearing this song. Humanism breathes through every pore of it, even through the trusty harmonica break.
The two next numbers - 'The Wicked Messenger' and 'Down Along The Cove' - are relative throwaways. Even so, 'Messenger' probably has the most elaborate melody on the whole record, with brilliantly constructed descending guitar lines replacing simplistic rhythm strumming; and the story that Bob tells is, once again, quite fascinating, though the idea is unclear, and that's a problem - where the idea is unclear, it's difficult to tell what kind of emotions or feelings the song should stimulate in you. And on 'Down Along The Cove' Bob suddenly turns to primitive love thematics, with somewhat off-putting, close-to-banal lyrics - a thing which doesn't work very well, considering that the song itself is just a generic fast blues number. The piano and occasional steel guitar, contributed by Nashville star Pete Drake, don't help that much.
However, I have no objections at all to the 'primitive love thematics' on the album closer - the luxurious, strangely sexual country number 'I'll Be Your Baby Tonight'. Honestly, Bob could hardly come up with a better album closer - telling us all goodbye not on a disturbing, mysterious note, as he'd done previously, but on a heart-warming, friendly, loving one. This is one of the best country songs in existence, with a melody close to brilliant and blistering embellishments all over the place: melodic harmonica fills abound, and Drake adds more steel guitar parts, this time completely in their needed place. The harmonica solos on that one are, in fact, more worthy than a dozen tranquilizers: my only complaint is that the song fades out almost in a blink of an eye, and right in the middle of one of these solos. Dammit, Bob. Why the hell did he have to extend that 'Frankie Lee' borefest, while at the same time cutting the best songs on the album to the point of practical non-existence? What an irrational kind of guy.
So I don't think I've yet mentioned it explicitly - fact is, most of these songs are just as short as your average punk number, a significant change of style for Bob who was the legit father of eleven-minute epics. He'd stay close to this pattern for all of his 'country' period, which would last for at least five more years. The good news is that, while this period is vastly underrated in general, he still managed to produce a great deal of genre classics. The bad news is that none of his further output from the period ever comes close to matching the beauty, mystery, inscrutability, and, at the same time, humble simplicity of JWH. The album still stands as one of the most obvious manifestations of the man's genius. And if you need some further proof, let me tell you that I just discovered I've even made this here review a lengthier one than my review of Blonde On Blonde without actually noticing it. Hmm, don't you think I oughta go and switch the ratings of these two albums? Well, probably not; I did point out a couple of flaws here that Blonde On Blonde misses completely. But buy this album today; tomorrow might be late.
And hey - I think I just figured out the meaning of the Blonde On Blonde moniker! Hint: what do you get if you try it as an anagram...?

I pity the poor immigrant who is not on the Web to mail his ideas

Your worthy comments:

Brian Blacklow <blacklow@applepark.com> (05.12.99)

Fredrik Tydal <f_tydal@hotmail.com> (13.03.99)

Kelly Laabs <laabsk@southwestern.edu> (22.04.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

NASHVILLE SKYLINE

Year Of Release: 1969
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 12

Dylan goes hardcore country. Lightweight and short, but unexpectedly enjoyable.
Best song: LAY LADY LAY

Oh oh oh. For some, the going really gets rough here. Taking one step further, Bob has immersed himself in Nashville, quit smoking (some say that's the main reason of his odd whine-free tone on this and the followibng album) and recorded some straightforward country songs. Whatever you might say, this was certainly the true beginning of his long-time plan to rid himself of his huge fan following; even more strange, he failed - it took him one more album, and a double one at that, to achieve his goal (even though it still really doesn't work with your humble servant). The only major drawback of this album is that it's way too short. Twenty-nine minutes, for Chrissake! Highway 61 was more than fifty minutes long! It's not worth my money!
On the good side, though, he suddenly displays a charming singing voice as if he's been singing country songs all his life; writes some nice songs with perfectly understandable lyrics; and teams up with a host of Nashville thugs who managed to destroy Ringo Starr's second solo album the following year, but here they sound quite all right 'cos old Bob probably controlled the situation and, after all, he's the only songwriter on here. Out of the twenty nine minutes, there ain't even a single one that's not well worth your attention; just like every genre he'd previously engaged in, Bob personifies his country and brings it closer to the listener.
Everybody knows the classic ballad 'Lay Lady Lay' (sorry, the word 'ballad' is superfluous for this album: every song is a ballad, except the dispensable instrumental 'Nashville Skyline Rag'), with its mystical nighttime atmosphere, perfectly balanced by the tinkling percussion, floating organs, and gentle slide guitars. Unfortunately, the song is so intricate and subtle that Bob never really mastered a successful live version of it, and no rearranging tricks could ever recreate that same atmosphere on stage or even at least make a decent substitute for it. So the only way to enjoy the number is in its original version found here. The other more or less well-known number is that pragmatic bit of preachery, 'I Threw It All Away', very similar in tone to 'Lay Lady Lay' but without the slide guitar, so it's a 'daytime' song as opposed to the duskiness of 'Lady'.
But not everybody has heard the fairly interesting remake of 'Girl From The North Country' which Bob sings in a duet with Johnny Cash. The change of scenery results in a fascinating change of stylistics: the original number on Freewheelin' was just a sad tired Bob, here it's like two traveling minstrels or something, which elevates the song on a high romantic pedestal. Doesn't Johnny have one of the greatest voices in existence? Too bad I don't really have much else to say about him at this point... All the more interesting is its contrast with Bob's own - the Humble Intelligent Dude vs. the Respectable Country Giant.
A couple of the songs are just funny grooves (although that point would later be explored better on Selfportrait) - but 'Country Pie' with its sharp lead guitar lines truly rocks and when it fizzles out so unexpectedly after just one and a half minutes it's almost like an insult. Meanwhile, 'Peggy Day' is pleasant and bouncy - so pleasant and bouncy that it was later borrowed by Ray Davies who reworked the groove into his magnificent 'Holiday' (unless, of course, the groove is also borrowed by Dylan himself - quite a highly probable issue, too). Plus there's 'Nashville Skyline Rag', of course; it's pleasant, but highly generic - Bob would learn to make more intriguing country instrumentals later on (like 'Turkey Chase', for instance), but one shouldn't be too hard on the poor man: he was learning, after all. In any case, I love these charming little guitar melodies just as well.
The rest of the songs mainly recycle the balladeering theme, though. Such pretty numbers like 'One More Night' and the fascinatingly straightforward 'Tell Me That It Isn't True', for instance, should hardly rank below the 'classics' from this album. What's even less understandable to me is that most people love these numbers, yet they sound exactly like some stuff from Selfportrait which the same people hate. Talk about unfair biases...
The final rating is a seven, not because the songs suck but because it's actually a serious stylistic letdown after Harding. Well, after all Bob did want it to be a letdown, and there's no need to pretend that it isn't. It's still a wonderful record, though - which might seem like a paradox, but actually isn't. Take it this way: if a great painter suddenly quits painting masterpieces and turns himself to decorating wallpaper, does that mean that his wallpaper sucks? It's something on a different level - it's an intentional dropping of the 'high value' principle. The odds are that his wallpaper will still be better than ordinary wallpaper. Same with Bob: compared to Blonde On Blonde, Nashville Skyline is a throwaway, but out of all the pure country albums I've ever heard in my life this is, and undeniably will always be one of my favourites. Hope it will be the same way with you, too.
Although I can hardly hope for the reader to share my devotion for the following record...

Tell me that it isn't true and mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Kelly Laabs <laabsk@southwestern.edu> (22.04.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

SELFPORTRAIT

Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 12

A terribly understated quiet, modest album. Groovy and utterly un-serious. Remember that.
Best song: MIGHTY QUINN (QUINN THE ESKIMO)

Oh boy, here we go. Now just look here: most people consider this album to be not just a HUGE letdown for old Bob, but one of the most loathsome, sordid and pitiful collection of songs he's ever done, if not ever recorded. By 'most people' I mean the general public and critical opinion as well: as far as I know, the record never gets more than one and a half stars or 2 or 3 points out of 10 even in the hands of the most generous reviewers. OK, now that being said and the warning for everybody being done, ... not to offend 'most people': you guys are nuts. In other words, this record rules. There ain't a single song of the twenty-three tracks on here that I dislike, and I wouldn't trade it in for a whole kingdom.
First of all, whoever disses it but has the nerve to praise Nashville Skyline needs to have a little part of his brain replaced. The moods of both records are almost similar - they're both 'country-rock' excursions, the only difference being that the Skyline material is more or less original and here we have more or less covers of 'classic' or 'obscure' country songs. As far as I understand, people just hate the songs for being covers, and they probably miss Bob's lyrics. But lemme just consider the background, ladies and gentlemen, lemme just consider the background! The idea was by no means make a bad album (which some people seriously think he did - they just say: 'Bob went and made one bad album intentionally!', that's what they say, and they miss the mark completely); but the idea was to make something different. And by different I don't mean revolutionary or groundbreaking or even original. In fact, by 1970 Bob was tired of revolutions, groundbreaking and originality, and he had enough of being called God and the fans endlessly waiting for that messianistic definite statement of Blonde On Blonde quality or even higher. So he thought he should do something simple instead - something ingenious, easily understandable and accessible which would shatter his 'superhuman' reputation intentionally. And, since he'd already stepped on country ground, the choice was obvious: he covered a great deal of rather banal country songs and wrote some more country songs in exactly the same styles, so sometimes it's very hard to make a difference. But I reiterate one more time: 'ordinary' doesn't equal 'bad', which so many people tend to forget.
As a result, most people hate all of this stuff, saying it's too gross, banal, and elementary. But I dunno, I enjoy it. I mean, it isn't serious at all, but hell, if you wanna tell me that my beloved 'Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues' is serious and this stuff is not, well I'll just have to smack you. You can consider it a 'parody' album, which would be close to the truth; or consider it a 'groove' album, which would be even closer; but consider it a 'bad' album? Never in my sweet short life!
Let's just jump to another level of apperception - the level on which I see, for instance, that the playing is great, with tons of professional country musicians joining Bob in the studio and producing creative, tasteful arrangements which I completely dig (and that's considering my usual disrespect for slow, boring country music in general). Even more important, on some of the tracks he continues to display that charming voice of his that he first discovered on Skyline (which shows that he could sing, after all, if he wanted to: esp. on 'Blue Moon', 'Take A Message To Mary', 'Take Me As I Am' and suchlike).
Some of the cover versions are admirable: Simon & Garfunkel's 'Boxer', for example, with Dylan singing a duet with Dylan (double-tracked, of course), or the abovementioned 'Take A Message To Mary' (which has nothing in common with 'Absolutely Sweet Marie', but is charming nevertheless); some old folk cowboy tale called 'Days Of '49', on which Bob shines with his inimitable talent to make a verse seem completely out of tune and then suddenly dive out again and put it out straight; another kinda golden oldie called 'Copper Kettle' about 'lying there by the juniper while the moon is bright'; some others I can't recall right now, but I like them all. And there's at least a dozen on here.
His self-penned material, though, is even better: the brilliant 'Mighty Quinn' is a standing out ferocious and humorous rocker, quite unlike anything he's ever done before or after; 'Belle Isle' is the lyrical opposite of 'As I Went Out One Morning', but musically they are both par; 'Minstrel Boy' drags at a very slow pace, but has a very strong melody; the instrumentals 'Woogie Boogie' and 'Wigwam' are maybe nothing special, but certainly nice; the two versions of 'Alberta' which open and close the album are good country blues, and the two versions of 'Little Sadie' are just good country.
Repeating it one more time: none of these or other songs from Selfportrait range among Bob's best work (except maybe 'Mighty Quinn'), but all of them are nice and pleasant to listen to, especially if you're in a lazy, relaxed mood. In fact, it's one of my favourite 'relaxation' albums of all time: it's particularly great to put on late in the evening when you come home all tired and pissed off after a day's toil. And no piece of music can set you in a good mood better than the opening tune 'All The Tired Horses', with just two lines repeated over and over, beautiful string arrangements, and no Dylan at all - just female choruses. Even the two live versions found on this CD ('Like A Rolling Stone', 'She Belongs To Me', from Bob's 1969 so-so Isle of Wight performances), sung in Dylan's most nasty voice, are not enough to spoil the picture.
So cheer up, folks - get this album (especially since it's a double LP on one CD) and dig it as Bob's 'groove' album. Seriously - it's one of the biggest puzzles in my life as to how people can really hate this stuff. Maybe being an American gives you the advantage of dismissing it? Well then, from an international point of view it still looks great. No, I still think that it mainly has to do with a 'crumble of expectations', as this is truly the oddest piece in Bob's catalog. Where were you when he was recording Skyline? What's the difference people? There ain't none. And of course Self-Portrait can't even hope to rank along the true Dylan classics, but hey, it's adequate - it doesn't actually pretend to, like some of his worst Eighties' albums do. I easily count it as one of the best, exemplary unpretentious, 'non-statement' albums ever recorded.

Take me as I am or mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Mike Zupan <viktoria@siol.net> (11.11.99)

Dave <dave@film-center.com> (20.01.2000)

Kelly Laabs <laabsk@southwestern.edu> (22.04.2000)

<TylerDurden900@aol.com> (06.07.2000)

John McFerrin <stoo@imsa.edu> (15.08.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

<QUINN1856@aol.com> (21.10.2000)

NEW MORNING

Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 13

A short venture into the life of piano chords. Quiet and introspective, with just a tiny ounce of religion.
Best song: NEW MORNING

This is much more of a serious album than Selfportrait, and also much more short: Bob cuts down the format and returns to the principle of 'ultra-short' record which would stick around for most of his 'country period'. Stylistics-wise, it is not entirely in another genre or anything: he is still working in the patented quiet, stripped down country style.However, by now he relies much more heavily on piano than on anything else, basing song after song on rather vague, watery, rambling chord sequences and disregarding carefully-structured riffs. Not that it's a problem: chaotic as this record seems to be, it somehow manages to be incredibly catchy. I'm not exactly sure if you'll like it if you hated Selfportrait, but if you didn't hate that one, you'll really find New Morning a major highlight in Bobster's career. Catchy, quiet and introspective - and also humble and philosophical, this time finding Bob in a somewhat toss-off, melancholy mood. But hey, that was probably the real mood he was in at the time, and everything about the album feels utterly sincere and moving.
Unless, of course, you're a piano hater, in which case this record is definitely not for you. In fact, the only real guitar-driven number on the whole record is the opening beautiful ballad 'If Not For You', also recorded by George Harrison the same year (see All Things Must Pass). This is a rare case when I actually prefer the cover to the original, but I have an excuse: George and Bob were really working together at the time (Bob also wrote, or co-wrote, I don't remember which, 'I'd Have You Anytime' for George's album), and George's version is just more polished, while Bob's take on it sounds kinda sloppy and too nonchalant. It's still cute, though, with wonderful guitar licks and a homely, cozy feel... eh, well, all of this album has a homely, cozy feel, I guess that was a rather superfluous remark.
But guitar or no guitar, it doesn't really matter: most of the piano numbers are extremely enjoyable, and much of them set entirely different moods - it never feels like the record is just chewing on one style. Some of the tunes are rather bizarre and unpredictable, like the extravagant waltz 'Winterlude': a bit in the Selfportrait vein with the formulaicness of its melody and somewhat banal love lyrics, it's not exactly a highlight, but I find its occasional roughness and straightforwardness defiant and attractive. Some, on the other hand, are utterly gorgeous: 'The Man In Me', on an amazing note, completely rejects Bob's frequently observed misogynistic attitudes with its refrain - 'takes a woman like you to get through to the man in me' - and, while some might find the 'la la la' chanting in the song cheesy and repetitive, I find it really heartwarming.
The album also sports an evident religious attitude - for the first time in Bob's career, really; one might say that in certain ways New Morning predicts Bob's 'born again' period, albeit only its strong sides and none of its weak ones. I'm mostly talking about the last three minutes on the album: 'Three Angels' is a solemn, creepy, organ-based piece, with Bob reciting a certain kind of apocalyptic vision that gives me the creeps; and 'Father Of Night' is just a very short, catchy, simplistic, childish ditty to round out the record. Unimaginable on any earlier album, but never spoiling the picture.
Religious, cozy and friendly; what other characteristics I still haven't mentioned? Oh yeah. Overall, this album produces a very 'lazy' impression as well, although it's not the 'laziness' of Selfportrait: the latter showed signs of tiredness (Bob tired of his fame and success), while New Morning displays signs of obvious boredom. Tracks like 'Time Passes Slowly' really set a unique mood that makes me imagine Bob as a lazy sluggard lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. It does have a melody, because I'm able to remember it; but it creeps along at such a snail pace, and it sounds so blatantly minimalistic - one finger on a piano, eh? - that you will certainly be tempted to deny its very existence. Do not. It's just an Intentionally Boring (And Bored) Melody.
However, while it's indeed an intriguing and even haunting kind of boredom, it's not a creative boredom - it's rather his being stuck in one place and desperately searching for something new but never finding it, or simply not being sure whether IT has really been found or not. And although the title track, with its optimism and call for a renewal of values, tries to hint at some kind of a spiritual rebirth for old Bob, you hardly believe that from listening to other songs here: 'Went To See The Gypsy' is still the same search for spiritual perfection, while 'Sign On The Window' is as pessimistic and depressing as anything ("Sign on the window says "lonely"/ Sign on the door said "no company allowed"/Sign on the street says/"y' don't own me"/Sign on the porch says "three's a crowd" - ooohh, that's sick...). I'd bet you anything that Bob was in a terrible depression at this time, which unfortunately came to pass only five years after - with his return onto the big stage (Before The Flood) and his next period of creativity (Blood On The Tracks).
Nevertheless, his melody- and lyrics-generating motor was still in perfect form: if you can get through the somewhat uniform sound of this record (initially - you'll be amazed at how diverse it really is after a few listens), and a couple occasional misfires like the stupid beatnik rant 'If Dogs Run Free' which doesn't really fit anywhere on here, you'll dig almost every song. YES, including even the stupid blues 'One More Weekend' which doesn't fit in with the general mood here either. Stupid, but hooky-hook-filled. It is. Together with Selfportrait, the most blatantly overlooked album in Zimmy's catalog. And mind you, there ain't a single cover on here! If you thought I was a jerk for defending Selfportrait, do not extrapolate that principle on the other records!

Time passes slowly when you're not mailing your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Dave <dave@film-center.com> (24.01.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

PAT GARRETT & BILLY THE KID

Year Of Release: 1973
Record rating = 6
Overall rating = 11

Possibly the best bunch of instrumental soundtrack music I've ever heard. Period.
Best song: FINAL THEME (and not 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door'!)

Hey, another good Dylan album! You may ask: how can a good Dylan album only earn a 6? Well, actually, this is just a soundtrack for a film of the same name, starring Mr Bob Dylan, too, under the name of 'Alias' (sic!) To that extent, it contains no more than two real songs (one of them reprised thrice, plus a fourth time in an instrumental version), while all the others are just instrumental themes. You may ask: how can two songs and a bunch of instrumentals even earn a 6? Well, easily, because they're that good! If anything, Pat Garrett is a very good place for anybody doubting Dylan's composing skills to come and see that there was really no ground for that. Still working strictly within the limits of country-rock where Bob had driven himself six years ago and which he was not yet intending to leave, he managed to bring together an ounce of creativity, an ounce of his usual humbleness and introspection, a handful of cute musical ideas, a bunch of excellent backing musicians, including Booker T, Roger McGuinn, and Jim Keltner on drums, and a delicious relaxing atmosphere, and all this resulted in a minor masterpiece. Very minor, but as far as soundtracks to country westerns go, it hardly gets any better than this.
For instance, because one of these songs is the super-greatest-mega-hit 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door', worth every penny and sounding a hell of a deal better than Eric Clapton's feeble reggae reproduction (which I rather like, too, but it completely lacks the stately Dylan majesty of the original); here it is set to a much more appropriate gospel backing, although it's much too short for (probably) everybody's tastes. What can be said about the song other than it denotes absolute, tear-inducing perfection? Only that, amazing as it may seem, it's not the best composition on here... so read on. The other "full song" is really called 'Billy' (or 'Billy 1', 'Billy 4', 'Billy 7', and 'Main Title Theme' if you prefer some details). The lyrics deal with matters which I can't really discuss here, since they all refer to the film I've never seen, but the melody is perfect: its only flaw is its being reprised four times throughout the album, and in the form of the six-minute long 'Main Title Theme' it can really get on your nerves unless you just treat it as soothing background music, which is actually the only way it should be treated. That said, the arrangement of 'Billy 7' that closes the album is rather weird - far more dark, ominous and disturbing than the other three versions, with Dylan adopting a very gloomy, slow intonation and then even going off into a somewhat faster 'boogie' before fading out.
And theother instrumentals? Why, as a matter of fact, our friend Bob made a surprisingly strong effort and made them as lovely as possible. Both 'Cantina Theme' and 'Bunkhouse Theme' coulda been some fine songs if set to lyrics, but apparently this fate was not theirs. So they just roll along slowly, gracefully, excellent mood music that does not rely on synthesizers; proof enough that you don't really need no keyboards to do ambient stuff. But it's really two other instrumentals that stand out above everything. The banjo-and-fiddle-driven 'Turkey Chase' is just enthralling, hilarious and a bit sad all at once, with fiddle genius Byron Berline and banjo genius "Jolly Roger" driving it forward. The fiddle is an absolutely genial, unparalleled touch here: where most of the country western soundtracks would simply contend themselves with a generic fast banjo-driven instrumental, this one receives a blistering, innovative piece of music that might not seem a lot to an unexperienced eye, but is in reality genre-breaking. At least, that's how it seems to me: I'm no big country expert, but I have seen quite a few movies and am quite familiar with the type of country music contained therein.
But the album's major moment of glory, of course, is the absolutely haunting 'Final Theme'. I don't know if it was actually Dylan who invented that beautiful, tearful flute/recorder part (played by Gary Foster), but if yes, forget all my complaints about Dylan's musical limitations: this is one of the most emotionally rich, haunting themes I ever witnessed. (And note that it also came out in 1973 - a year so full of similar cathartic experiences, like Townshend's solo on 'Quadrophenia' or Steve Hackett's solo on 'Firth Of Fifth'. Apparently, God came down on Earth that year and spent some time in Anglo-Saxon countries). The number alone is worth your buying this album; you'll easily find 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door' on any reasonable compilation, but no way you'll ever witness a compilation with 'Final Theme': if you ever find one, mail me the name of its compiler so I can write it in big letters here on the site. Anyway, thanks God it is not the last track on the album - otherwise I'd just have to listen to it again and again. Instead, the album closes off with two more versions of 'Billy' which really make the idea of saying goodbye to the record far more endurable.
So there you are, folks - a mighty soundtrack, that one. I guess if every movie soundtrack were this CLASSY, the world woulda run out of rock bands a good deal earlier than it did (I mean, good rock bands). If you really enjoy this awkward lot of noise made by silly people by means of weird magical objects which they sometimes call MUSIC - buy it, you won't regret it.

Knockin' on heaven's door already? Wait up and mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Ward <Wardo68@aol.com> (19.08.2000)

PLANET WAVES

Year Of Release: 1974
Record rating = 5
Overall rating = 10

A disappointingly flaccid album. Maybe teaming up with The Band wasn't such a good idea after all.
Best song: FOREVER YOUNG

The first serious effort in the studio in four years, and overall it's a disaster - of course, it's still an album that many bands would kill for, but judging by Bob's standards, this is indeed a crying shame where previous records such as Self-Portrait were just a lightweight distraction. In fact, this is one of the few Dylan albums I have serious trouble to concentrate on. It marks the end of Dylan's country-rock period - and not too soon, as the formula is starting to run painfully dry. For the last time on a studio record, he is being backed by The Band, and even though Bob holds the writing credits for every song alone, they manage to spoil a lot of the fun. While Mr Zimmerman had never been the greatest of melody-writers, his songs always had melodies - some derivative, some simplistic, but essentially solid and memorable. Planet Waves lives up to its title - it sounds like dreamy, soft waves of sound rolling over the listener and luring him with their subtle moodiness so that he could forget there are so few melodies on here. I must say that at times I'm wooed over by such an approach: more than half of the songs do manage to somewhat get by on atmosphere alone, and the patented Dylan atmosphere ain't the worst atmosphere in the world. But the instrumentation is way too generic, no "thin mercury sound" of the days of yore, and The Band's playing is surprisingly mediocre - at times, they do please my ear, like with the sharp 'popping' guitar licks on 'Going Going Gone', but most of the time, it's... pretty ehhh, as I don't really find anything more appropriate to say.
In fact, on Planet Waves Bob hardly sounds any better than one of his most notorious (and most obnoxious) rip-offs - Bruce Springsteen, who, coincidentally, was just emerging on the scene at the time. Same loungey jammy stuff with little substance, and a strange self-pitying, preachy atmosphere. Did I yet mention how tired and gloomy Bob sounds on that one? Emotion-wise, Planet Waves is the legitimate predecessor to Blood On The Tracks; but where the latter was sharp, at times angry and at times with a scent of sad irony, this one is just blunt, bleak, and depressing without a particular reason, and as such hearkens more to Bob's painfully pessimistic Eighties period.
Still, it starts off just fine - with a tight, compact and funny fast country number called 'On A Night Like This' where Dylan's voice really stands out of the packs of guitars and keyboards. Sounds almost as if the song had been carried over from Selfportrait and the like (and, of course, everybody who hates Selfportrait loves it - how could it be otherwise?). Then the fun ends - once and for all; but never mind, it's immediately followed by one of his most bitter and tear-bringing ballads ('Going Going Gone'); in fact, everybody who bought the record on its release must have been shocked seeing Dylan go from such a hilarious and lightweight groove into such an overkill depression, the likes of which nobody had yet witnessed; maybe a little on John Wesley Harding, but that album had a bit of theatricality about it, with Dylan more of an 'impersonator' than a person telling a sincere confession. 'Going Going Gone' is autobiographical, and it sounds like a death sentence to himself: 'I've just reached a place/Where the willow don't bend/There's not much more to be said/It's the top of the end/I'm going, I'm going, I'm gone'. Masterful words - Dylan might have been "gone", with the depressive moods settling down forever, but he sure was still "going"...
But once the original shock passes and one gets accustomed to the dreariness of the mood, from then on it gets more and more mediocre, with track after track lacking true hooks and mainly just repeating the same mood over and over again. The only real highlight is the classic tune 'Forever Young', whose lyrics are kinda optimistic (which is why it has since become such a notorious anthem), but once again, I feel more like it's Dylan "passing the baton" to the younger generation - go ahead and be forever young, do what you like and be what you want, and I'll just sit here in the gutter and quietly die away. This makes the song more of yet another personal statement than of a cheerful anthem, and I'd also like to mention Bob's marvelous singing in the chorus; together with a few more tunes like 'One More Cup Of Coffee', it's a clear demonstration of his exquisitely talented style of singing. Don't believe me? Try hitting the notes he is and you'll see. But even so, the second, faster, more "upbeat" version of the song that immediately follows the first one, sounds like nothing more than a self-parody: it's as if Bob was intentionally "deflating" the original, transforming a powerful personal revelation into a mock-dance tune that seems horrendously out of place.
Most of the other tracks feature Dylan singing weak, uncertain lines and feeling almost lost in the woods of The Band's instruments. Or was it 'bogged in the marshes'? Feeling the necessity to squeeze at least a couple of good words about the album, I'd say that 'Hazel' is at least moody; 'Dirge' is at least, er, well, dirgey; and 'Something There Is About You' points the way to the far superior 'Idiot Wind', but the other songs are just one huge embarrassment (particularly the stupid 'Wedding Song' that closes the album - Bob singing straightforward love lyrics in an overemoting voice? This kind of stuff wouldn't even be acceptable from Bob Seger). The only explanation I have is that either a four year break temporarily affected Dylan's songwriting skills or else the same effect was produced by the presence of assorted Band members in the neighbourhood. Or both. Plus, there's an ugly album cover which, strange enough, totally fits in with the music: impressionistic pictures of several persons (Bob and the Gang?), looking just as degraded as the songs themselves. Sorry, Bob.

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BEFORE THE FLOOD

Year Of Release: 1975
Record rating = 6
Overall rating = 11

A happy concert album. The playing is awful, of course, but everybody's having a good time.
Best song: I SHALL BE RELEASED

Signalizes the return of Bob to the big scene, to the big game, and to real life. If those Waves were as country-boring to your ears as to mine and you thought Bob'd been firmly grounded in that country rubbish for ever, well then - here's something new for you. This is the first of Bob's live albums (if we don't count the much later-released Live 1966), and, although certainly not the best, it does inspire some interest.
So what's up? Bob's on the road with The Band again, and this is good and bad news at the same time. The bad news is that, while in 1966 the Band were just the Hawks backing up a superior performer, by now they have finally matured to a real self-sufficient band and so have earned the right to sing their own songs - a good third of the album, if not more, is just The Band and no Bob Dylan (who was probably having a joint or two backstage during their performance). For any Band fan this will probably be a pleasant surprise; but me, I'm not excited about the fact. I don't have anything against the Band, as I consider them one of the more interesting American (okay, Canadian. Does that really make a hell of a difference?) "roots rock" bands in existence, never fearing to experiment within the genre and coming up with some of its most intelligent and endurable classics, some of which are actually performed on this here record. I mean - most of these songs are good (except for the totally idiotic, way too repetitive and straightforward 'The Shape I'm In'), but they don't fit with the general atmosphere of a Dylan album, they don't fit with it at all. I'd rather have a separate Dylan live album and a separate Band album; when Robbie Robertson and his gang disrupt the steady flow of the album - and they do it two times, on each of the two CDs that constitute it! - I just have to cringe.
That said, classics are classics, and who can deny the Band the right to perform a classic? After all, the performance and the album are billed to 'Bob Dylan/The Band', so this shouldn't come as a nasty surprise. Taken on their own, 'Up On Cripple Creek' and 'The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down' are among the most enjoyable country-rock tunes ever written; unlike some of their more mindless imitators like Free, The Band actually knew a thing or two about hooks. I can't say I'm in deep love with any other Band originals - some actually put me off to sleep before I can really appreciate them ('When You Awake?' When you stop singing!), and some sound painfully similar (I still can't quite tell 'Endless Highway' from 'Stage Fright' even if I kinda enjoy both). Still, I'd better discuss all this stuff in more details on a Band page, if I ever get around to doing one. Maybe someday...
Oh, well, at least they do old Bob a favour by covering 'I Shall Be Released'. Whoever is singing (Rick Danko, probably? Or that Manuel guy? I'm just not too familiar with their voices), his voice is great - that's how this song should be done, on any occasion. The original, only available on selected compilations now (originally a single, I suppose), always sounded a little bit bleak to me - and this live performance, more closely following the Band's own studio version, brings out the best in the plaintive, confessional lyrics that gotta rank among Dylan's most personal and inspired.
Now, about Bob's own numbers. After all these years of seclusion and crisis, he turns out to be in a surprisingly energetic form, shouting out the lyrics like there's no tomorrow, and although some people say he lacks emotions, he's compensating it with a strange "vocal electrification" of numbers like 'Highway 61 Revisited' (roaring '...on Highway Sixty-OOOOOONE!') or 'Most Likely You Go Your Way' ('And I go MIIIIIIIINE!') The drive and the tension can be heard on a supreme version of 'Ballad Of A Thin Man', too, and 'Lay Lady Lay' is deprived of its countryish sissyass intonations with an all-out rockin' interpretation. While none of the songs are actually superior to the studio versions, it's very nice to hear these 'ragged', slightly clumsy, but powerful live renditions to hear them take on a different life. The Band actually plays in a way that's similar to their style on Live 1966, but for some reason the "wall-of-live-sound" is not so apparent on here; maybe it has something to do with Hudson and Manuel's appreciation for synthesizers, which don't sound bad, but significantly thin out the sound. Still, 'different' doesn't necessarily mean "worse", now does it?
Well, in some cases, it does. Unfortunately, the same "vocal electrification" results in a total ruining of several 'softer' tracks - 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door' loses ninety percent of its former emotional power (by the way, I have never heard Bob doing a decent live version of this one) and 'Just Like A Woman' during Bob's short acoustic set, deprived of all of its vocal subtlety, suddenly stands out wretched and miserable. Not to mention that the closing 'Blowin' In The Wind' is a disaster, 'Rainy Day Women' is a trillion times inferior to the original studio version, and the obligatory 'Like A Rolling Stone' just doesn't make things seem better - the final crowd-pleasing numbers just go off as obligatory performances, with hardly an ounce of true passion displayed.
Apparently, Bob was too intent on showing the audiences his still being alive and all, and so decided to put all the different styles into one bag (skipping ahead once again: his later live albums suffer from just the opposite problem), which is called 'energetic gimmickry'. I just hope he wasn't breaking his guitar after concerts. Still, while Before The Flood certainly doesn't deserve its 2-CD price (cut out at least half of the Band's set, 'Just Like A Woman' and the crowd-pleasers and you have a near-masterpiece), I can't imagine a hardcore Dylan fan intentionally skipping it - after all, its importance is at least historical, as the album heralds the beginning of Dylan's "revival".

When you awake, be sure to mail your ideas

Your worthy comments:

Steve Knowlton <knowltos@co.washtenaw.mi.us> (03.02.2000)

Ryan Mulligan <pxpres@idt.net> (05.03.2000)

Brent McNeal <bmcneal@hsc.usf.edu> (14.03.2000)

Sean Hutchinson <hutchilj@aramco.com.sa> (04.10.2000)

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