On January 17th, 1975, after eight years of work most critics and fans believed to be far inferior to his legendary mid-sixties output, Bob Dylan finally put out his next great record. Tomorrow, Blood on the Tracks turns 35 without having lost any of its resonance or immediacy--it remains one of the most raw, emotive yet simultaneously literate and reflective albums ever put together and may just be the supreme musical meditation on one of the greatest universal themes, the break up.
It's times like these I wish I was an older Dylan fan, one who'd latched on at the beginning and watched the changes from folk singer to electric bard to austere prophet to country crooner to early-seventies dissapointment. Then, perhaps I'd have a really great story to tell about going to buy the album the day it was released, dropping the needle, and finding out in a sudden rush of alternately tortured and romantic images that Dylan still had the hard-to-describe "it" that no other singer/songwriter has ever had, before or since. But Blood on the Tracks came out five years before I was even born, so instead I'll have to settle for the advantage of perspective, of having been able to put the man's albums next to one another and compare them with the clear-eyed objectivity that comes precisely from not having a specific memory tied to any one of them.
I've done that. I've played them back-to-back time and time again, and I've discovered that if anything, Blood on the Tracks might be, if not better than Highway 61 Revisited or Blonde on Blonde, then every bit as good, and certainly more complete. On Blood on the Tracks, Dylan has a vulnerability, a willingness to see his own shortcomings, that is completely absent from those intoxicatingly cocky sixties albums. This vulnerability is evident in the singing and the writing and it allows a listener to get closer to the music emotionally. In the mid-sixties, Dylan simply borrowed the aesthetic of the blues. On Blood on the Tracks, he has found the heart of the blues.
Happy birthday, Blood on the Tracks! Below are some highlights of this great record.
"Tangled Up in Blue":
"Idiot Wind":
"If You See Her, Say Hello":
And, of course, to show the flexibility of the material, a reworked live version of "Shelter From the Storm":
5 comments:
I was there. At varsity. Dumped by Gwen that year. "the only thing I knew how to do was keep on keeping on". It felt like he had written the songs for me. Weird. Still feels like that as a listen to it now.
Isn't it funny that only Dylan can me wish I had a break-up story like that? My personal connection is with "Idiot Wind." I was starting to come out of my own "angry young male" phase finally, and I distinctly remember suddenly noticing--maybe the fifteenth or twentieth time that I'd heard the song--the way the venom dries up and he regretfully admits his own culpability at the end of the song. Made me think a lot. It was like he'd had a revelation right there in the studio, mid-song, and that part still floors me today.
Early one mornin' the sun was shinin', I was layin' in bed. It was a Saturday in 1975. I was 15. A Zeppelin freak. Bob Dylan was the guy who did Blowin' In The Wind, Lay Lady Lay and Knockin' On Heaven's Door. I woke to Tangled Up In Blue on KY-102. I was in that beta state between sleep and waking and her hair was still red. Every one of those words rang true. Revolution was in the air. I was mesmerized. Something was awakened in me. Something I had never known before. Love of language. Love of story. Love of song. From a different point of view. From a Dylan point of view. That love is still with me.
This takes you to a lengthy review at the time of release by esteemed ("Landau's got his head up his ass" - Dylan) critic John Landau -
http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/alb ... m=CDreview
"To compare the new album to Blonde on Blonde at all is to imply that people will treasure it as deeply and for as long. They won't." Hmmmmmmm.
I can't believe that anybody would fail to see the lasting greatness in this record. Especially when you consider the universal nature of its big theme: the breakup.
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