As you may well be aware, today is Bob Dylan's 70th birthday. The tributes are pouring in: wonderful protest singer (a label he hated even for the relatively short time it was actually applicable), inspiration to many (grumpy, stodgy git), revolutionised the music industry (all right, that one's more or less inarguable). As you may know, I'm a huge Dylan fan, and have been for years; several of his albums are among my favourites, and I'm Not There is one of my favourite films (if you're looking for some celebratory Dylan-related viewing, you can't go wrong there). The best way to pay tribute to the man is simply to talk about his music. Let's face it, though; more than enough has been said about 'Like a Rolling Stone' (a whole book, in fact. Seriously.) and 'Blowin' in the Wind'. Even the more specialised favourites ('Desolation Row', 'Simple Twist of Fate') have received plenty of attention. So I thought I'd put together a top 10 (in chronological order) of my favourite lesser-known Dylan songs. These aren't exactly obscure; some are from his most famous albums, but they're all too easy to overlook. And, for the record, I started writing this post before I read this Rolling Stone article. Those damn Rolling Stone folks can see into my brain... and is 'Like a Rolling Stone' really his best song? Grumble, grumble, grumble...
Sorry for the lack of videos, by the way. Dylan videos are not easy to find on YouTube; they're purged lest people should gain some enjoyment from his music.
'I Shall Be Free' (from The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan)
One aspect of Bob that gets overlooked all too often is his offbeat and often surreal sense of humour. It's probably best encapsulated in this song, along with 'Talkin' World War III Blues', from the same album. The song is probably best described as a kind of stream of consciousness, bookended by his sexual encounters with a terrifying woman (possibly a man?) and Elizabeth Taylor. In between, we've got a drunken Dylan, an oiled-up "football man" coming from the shower and Bob's advice to JFK on how to make the country grow: "Bridget Bardot, Anita Ekberg, Sophia Loren".
'One Too Many Mornings' (from The Times They Are a-Changin')
Whenever I hear the name of the excellent new Irish film 'One Hundred Mornings', this song gets stuck in my head. As Dylan showed with the seminal Blood on the Tracks, he excels at writing melancholy love songs, of which this is a great early example. It's a lovely moment of personal reflection amid the occasionally didactic ballads of the rest of the album. In addition, I often consider it a precursor to the regretful acceptance of the final verse of 'Idiot Wind'.
'Bob Dylan's 115th Dream' (from Bringing It All Back Home)
As the 60s wore on, Dylan's work became less didactic and more introverted; to put it another way, he became less concerned with what his songs were saying, and more concerned with the songs themselves. This is a good early example of the trend, with its bizarre surrealist poetry pointing the way forward to Blonde on Blonde (as well as providing a kind of successor to 'I Shall Be Free'). It's also an early example of Dylan's habit of laughing while recording, exemplified in 'Rainy Day Women Nos 12 and 35'.
'Queen Jane Approximately' (from Highway 61 Revisited)
Some say this was written for Joan Baez, which does seem plausible. It talks about the inevitable rejection of the titular Queen Jane from all that surrounds her, which is followed in each verse by "Won't you come see me, Queen Jane". What makes the theory even more plausible is that the song was written as Dylan and the folk revival movement were becoming estranged, and released shortly after his infamous electric performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. Even if it's not specifically for Baez, it's certainly a nice summary of the bitterness that surrounded Dylan at the time. What? Dylan bitter? Who'd have guessed?!
'Buckets of Rain' (from Blood on the Tracks)
Jumping forward some ten years here. While the place of Blood on the Tracks on "100 best albums"-type lists is always assured, I can't help but feel that the closing track doesn't get as much love as it deserves. I've always had a particular soft spot for Dylan's finger-picking accompaniments ('Don't Think Twice, It's All Right' being another obvious candidate), and this is a real beauty. It has the sad romantic tinge that characterises the album, but mostly it's just what Dylan does best: beautiful, understated poetry.
'Sara' (from Desire)
Probably the most open and honest song Dylan wrote about his relationship with Sara Lownds comes from the album immediately following the "divorce album", Blood on the Tracks. The song's lyrical structure (the relationship's end mourned through anecdotal images of a happier time) was later borrowed by Nick Cave for his own divorce song, 'Where Do We Go Now But Nowhere?' (incidentally, that video has to win a prize for "least appropriate picture of the artist"). It remains one of the most arrestingly direct and honest melancholy love songs ever written.
The Man in the Long Black Coat (from Oh Mercy)
(This version is from I'm Not There, and is a cover by Mark Lanegan; one of the few covers which I prefer to Dylan's original)
Jumping forward thirteen years this time; let's face it, the man can be a little patchy sometimes. Returning to his folk ballad roots, Dylan created this western-style tale of a shadowy figure who appears and disappears mysteriously, taking a woman with him and leaving only rumours. Where it differs from most songs of its type is the air of mystery; the "man" is never named and has no apparent purpose in the town. The dark, Old Testament-influenced air of the song is reminiscent of much of Nick Cave's early work.
'Most of the Time' (from Oh Mercy)
There's no rule against two from the same album, and I've always found Oh Mercy to be a distinctly underrated album. It tends to get lumped in with the rest of his overtly Christian 80s output, but it differs in that the religious themes are scaled back (not that they're necessarily bad, as in the sublime 'Ring Them Bells'). This is yet another melancholy love song, something Dylan does incredibly well, but for which he garners relatively little recognition. It depicts the attempts to "get by" after the end of a love affair, with each confident verse undermined and bookended by the heartbreaking refrain "most of the time".
'Death is Not the End' (version by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds; from Murder Ballads)
All right, I'm cheating here. The fact is that a Dylan song from his religious period which was average at best was made brilliant ten years later by Cave, along with PJ Harvey, Shane MacGowan, Kylie Minogue and the Bad Seeds. A simple, hopeful song about the afterlife is made incredibly sinister and menacing. In fairness, when you give the line "When the cities are on fire with the burning flesh of men" to Blixa Bargeld, it's obvious that happiness will not be forthcoming. Then, of course, there's the wonderful black humour of putting the song at the end of the hideously violent album Murder Ballads. I'll stop talking about Nick Cave now, because I fear I'm in danger of mentioning him more than I do Dylan.
'Love Sick' (from Time Out of Mind)
(I love this video for the dancing hipsters in the background. Obviously Dylan was the coolest, most obscure thing going in 1997.)
It seems strange that Time Out of Mind is almost 15 years old; I still think of it as "recent Dylan". Regardless, it's one of his best albums, filled with blues-influenced melancholy love songs (yes, them again). The vaguely threatening-sounding 'Make You Feel my Love' has recently gained new life, thanks to Adele. Probably one of the best songs on the album, and certainly one of the more underrated, is this, the opening track, with its wonderfully-punned title; it sets the tone for the whole album.
Happy birthday, Bob (I'm sure you're reading this). For the record, though I didn't include anything from them, I've loved the last couple of albums. No-one in the canon of popular music has had anything like the influence of the man born Robert Allen Zimmerman in Duluth, Minnesota. Others have written plenty about how he has inspired artists since the early 60s; all I know for sure is that his sheer brilliance has inspired me in many ways. For that matter, I've even been known to defend his voice.
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