Album Reviews

The big Bob Dylan knocks are that he’s a serial plagiarist, a user, a manipulator and most damning of all that he’s “inauthentic”. Joni Mitchell is reputed to have said about Bob “….he’s borrowed his voice from old hillbillies. He’s got a lot of borrowed things. He’s not a great guitar player. He’s invented a character to deliver his songs. It’s a mask of sorts”.

Much of what’s said against Dylan is true, but it hardly matters. It’s only somewhat cynical to say that the only truly original artists are those who borrowed or stole from other artists with whom we are unfamiliar. Still, even the artists from whom Picasso and Stravinsky lifted would probably agree that both were originals. Bob Dylan is an original.

Even the great quip “amateurs imitate, professionals steal” supposedly originated by Stravinsky (or Picasso) has been repeatedly borrowed through the years. When John Lennon said it, most of his fans unfamiliar with either Picasso or Stravinsky, or T.S. Elliot or Oscar Wilde—all of whom are also credited with originating it—probably thought Lennon so witty (which he was, but not for that!).

So, let’s ignore the plagiarism charges because Dylan himself doesn’t try to hide his lifts and so many of them are from sources most of us wouldn’t even know about were it not for discovering them through his appropriations.

His “mask of sorts” is more concerning. After Dylan’s first album flopped, he became our most influential protest singer— dubbed “the voice of a generation”. Having achieved that, he denied it and angrily dismissed those who were moved to follow his call. No one asked him to write all of those great protest songs! He repeatedly did it. He asked people to “gather ‘round!” Why was he surprised or disgusted when they did?

That aside, it’s clear his voice has always been a put-on. As a young man he affected the voice of a gravelly-sounding old man. His singing voice changed completely from album to album. The super sincerity on the protest albums gave way to a humorous, quizzical one on Blonde on Blonde, then to mystical piety on John Wesley Harding and on to a mellifluous crooner on Nashville Skyline where many longtime fans jumped ship.

The point is, if you bought into Dylan, you bought into the entire package: some lifted and/or borrowed lyrics and/or narratives, obscure or otherwise, many exquisitely turned, an ever changing and therefore always inauthentic voice and the sensation that you, as a fan were sometimes the butt of his big put-ons. There’s not that much mystery to the mysterious Mr. Dylan other than what motivates him to do some of what he does, which includes a desire to keep off-balance those willing to continue paying attention over the decades to his brilliant chicanery. He's one celebrity who's smartly controlled access.

Among many high points in Dylan’s long career have been only a few lows, like his Christian conversion albums and even those have their moments, though they sound like an artist who's not all that interested in album-making. Live, there were some lows including two shows I walked out on: one at the PNC Bank Arts Center in N.J. where he played only a cheap electric keyboard backed by a less than stellar band that clearly couldn’t give a shit about the performance or the audience. However, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers opened and put on a fantastic show. The second walk out was at Forest Hills Stadium in support of his Frank Sinatra tribute album Shadows In the Night. Actually, that was a surprisingly sincere and strong album (unlike his Christmas record!), but a very weak concert appearance. Yet I saw him again during last fall’s Beacon Theater run and it was a magical show. He was in rare form. Even the between song segue ways were perfect!

By the way, his SiriusXM radio show “Theme Time Radio Hour returns to the Deep Tracks channel September 21st at noon east coast time. The first show in honor of Bourbon Heritage Month is titled “Whiskey”. And of course, there’s his Heaven’s Door Whiskey. Not knocking it. Haven’t tried.

Which brings me to Rough and Rowdy Ways, his 39th album, the title of which was appropriated from a Jimmie Rodgers song and RCA album title, a copy of which some of you probably have.

The early release of the seventeen minute long “Murder Most Foul” (An Agatha Christie book title) was properly met with enthusiasm and appreciation particularly among the Boomer population who experienced, and were permanently traumatized by the events of 11/22/1963 and those that followed. The song is filled with cultural allusions that only increase the bond between stand-offish Dylan and his fans. As Dylan piles on the familiar references to Wolfman Jack, Jack Ruby, Marilyn Monroe, John Lee Hooker, and then The Eagles, Oscar Peterson, Monk and Parker (and all that “junk”) you hear the soundtrack to your own decades and feel the weight and then lightness of shared experiences. There are obscure references too, such as the one to Carl Wilson’s singing backup on the final track of Warren Zevon’s debut album and its final lyric. Dylan doesn’t sing the song as much as he recites it while behind, the musicians answer and amplify the basic recirculating tune.

The only other song that so well captures that period’s darkness is Greg Brown’s “Brand New ’64 Dodge”, which takes place in the weeks leading up to November 22nd, 1963 and so leaves you with the approaching dread. It’s far more devastating and never mentions the Kennedy assassination. That’s its genius. “Murder Most Foul” is another kind but no less effective.

The song is an old man looking back, reflecting solemnly on the cultural landmarks that affected his life (minus of course his own heavy contributions) all overshadowed by that murder most foul. So, it would be easy, because that’s what it sounds like, to assume Dylan produced the song and this entire album in the solitary confines of the Covid-19 lockdown but that’s simply not the case.

According to my sources, who shall remain anonymous, the album was recorded in its entirety last January and February at famed Sound City in Van Nuys, California well before the Coronavirus became cause for a lockdown, though of course while Dylan recorded, president “I don’t like shaking the hands of those disgusting people” knew all about it and how dangerous it was going to be.

The album’s opener “I Contain Multitudes” (a line from a Walt Whitman poem) is in many ways like the closer, only more playful and present tensed to let you know this guy may be old but he’s still a multi-faceted rascal having fun. You have to laugh at the way Dylan delivers “I paint landscapes, and I paint noodes”. He also loads up this song with cultural allusions—in one line managing to squeeze in Anne Frank, Indiana Jones and The Rolling Stones.

Listening for the first time I thought, “here, finally, Dylan is dropping the façade and is being himself singing directly to the listener as he’s rarely if ever done so intimately on record. It’s not a character, it’s him and if he is playing a character it's one that he’s playing more convincingly than ever. The performance turns the listen into a landmark event.

All of the songs, whether blues, gospel-tinged or even the most sincere love song, “I’ve Made Up My Mind to Give Myself to You” are works of an older man not pretending to be anything else.

This might be Dylan’s most sincerely and most intimately delivered album even if some song lyrics, like those of “False Prophet”, are characteristically enigmatic, though heavily laced with Biblical references.

However, there’s no mistaking the meaning of the Muhammed Ali-like boast “I’m first among equals, second to none / Last of the best, you can bury the rest”. And this one: “I sing songs of love, I sing songs of betrayal,” he growls, “can’t remember when I was born, and I forget when I died.” That brought one of many out loud laughs that the album delivers.

Listening through it all in one sitting I kept thinking about how Dylan’s peers might react hearing it for the first time. For me, the album’s honesty lays bare the ridiculousness of Mick Jagger still trying to be a 70’s or even 80s era Rolling Stone or Springsteen still trying to be “The Boss”.

Dylan points the way for how aging rock stars can be real and thus remain culturally relevant as Leonard Cohen did, which is how he attracted a new, young audience.

On this extraordinary album Dylan is at various times dark, celebratory, boastful and as usual difficult to decipher. Mostly though, he’s appropriately reflective without indulging in banal nostalgia. It’s a masterful performance. One of his finest on record. Considering some of the other greats he’s delivered and that this is number 39, that’s quite a feat. He also does some of his finest actual singing. I don’t think he could have delivered these lyrics as effectively as he does here without having first worked through the American songbook albums.

However, this production has a few confounding aspects. But first, the sound and the visual setting are both perfect. No other word to use. Dylan's voice is "in the room" three dimensional and transparent. The band, spread well behind is equally transparent and though purposely mixed somewhat in the distance almost mirage-like, sounds full bodied. Bass goes seriously deep and the top end is natural and fully extended. ProTools has come a long way as has the ability of better engineers to effectively use it. Yet comparing the stream with the vinyl, the vinyl wins. If you are adamant about not buying new digital recordings on vinyl, you are missing out on a superb sonic experience the streams don't provide. Don't ask me why, but assuming you are a Dylan fan and have a vinyl collection, you should add this one to the collection.

Chris Shaw’s engineering and 96/24 mix paint an ideal, intimate sonic picture. You can just about see Dylan sitting in a chair, lyric book open, reciting his lines while behind the musicians in a circle play the soothing, sometimes dreamy, sometimes raucous accompaniment. Whether or not he was actually sitting, standing or lying sideways, it sounds as if he was sitting in front of a microphone.

Whether or not the tracks were recorded live as they were on the “standards” albums, they sound as if they were, and Mr. Shaw gives nothing away since he wishes to remain in secretive Bob Dylan’s good graces.

Dylan keeps secrets, among the most frustrating here is why he so poorly treated Blake Mills.

In the mainstream reviews I’ve read along with citing touring regulars appearing here (guitarists Charlie Sexton [who live is a show worth watching unto himself] Bob Britt and the multi-instrumentalist Donnie Herron, plus bass guitarist Tony Garnier and drummer Matt Chamberlain), you read about minor players Fiona Apple and Benmont Tench but almost never does anyone mention Blake Mills!

So, assuming you’ve played this album through numerous times, it’s your turn to listen to Mills play solo some of his guitar parts that form the memorable musical backbones to so many of the tunes.

“I Contain Multitudes”:

“Crossing the Rubicon”:

“I’ve Made Up My mind to Give My Heart To You”

“Black Rider”

Can you tell me why Mills is listed in small print near the bottom? Better yet, can Bob?

Greg Calbi mastered from the 96/24 files, which were sent to Sterling Sound Nashville where Joe Nino-Hernes cut lacquers for both United Record Pressing, Nashville and MPO in France.

Now, to URP’s credit, it did an excellent job pressing thick, physically attractive 180g+ records. However, the same lacquers plated and pressed by MPO achieve a level of transparency, intimacy and background quiet along with transient precision that by comparison make the URP pressing sound noisy, even though there’s not overt noise. Clearly the differences are plating and vinyl pellet quality. If you love this record, even if you have the URP pressing, try to get the MPO pressing on either AmazonUK or Discogs). I’m sure you’ll agree it was worth spending the money. Rough and Rowdy Ways is the perfect “lockdown” listening companion. It’s a memorable one-on-one with Bob Dylan that leaves a long-lived reflective afterglow.