Playlist 11

I haven’t written one of these playlists for a while, preferring my sporadic music-based posts to take a slightly more in-depth form.  However, my recent listening has included a number of recordings that are too involving to pass without some comment.  Most of the items in this list are new to me, but there are a couple of old favourites as well.  For every new, experimental noise-scape, it seems there’s still the odd, evergreen rock anthem on heavy rotation too.  Sadly, I seem to have forgotten how to keep these entries concise, for which - apologies.  Perhaps you can just skip over the ones that interest you least.

Kemper Norton, ‘Loor’:

This is, (I think), the second full album to be put out in physical form by Kemper Norton, and a stylishly packaged artifact it is too.  It’s predecessor, ‘Carn’ is a nuanced and atmospheric electro-acoustic mélange, channeling the landscapes of Cornwall and Sussex, and eerie intimations of their previous inhabitants.  ‘Loor’ is billed as a nocturnal companion piece to that release, (translating as ‘Moon’ in old Cornish), and is a marvelous consolidation of everything that’s been interesting about his work to date.  Dark, folkloric or archaeological undercurrents run through much of this music, along with a definite sense of place, accentuated by the incorporation of field recordings into the overall sound. 

Norton’s signature sound involves ‘slurring’ acoustic and digital sounds, and layering sonic textures, hidden voices, and occasional, traditional instrumentation.  Beats sometimes intrude, but softer pulses or repeated phrasing more usually provide any rhythmic structure.  Key pieces are overlaid with passages of traditional song, intoned in an affectless and intimate voice.  On ‘Loor’ these include the familiar Welsh piece translated as, ‘All Through The Night’.

Like many current purveyors of haunted electronic music, Kemper Norton blurs the distinctions between the rural and the industrial, and actually deserves the clumsy ‘Folktronic’ label far more than many others.  Those of us happy to succumb to the marketing strategy of ‘Loor’ also get ‘Salvaged’, - a bonus disc of selected archival pieces, which display earlier facets of what is becoming an increasingly well-polished stone.

David Gilmour, ‘There’s No Way Out Of Here’:

Undoubtedly the most conservative choice here, - this is nonetheless something I often reach for when in a sentimental mood, after a couple of glasses of red.  By 1978 the tensions were really showing in the over-blown money machine that Pink Floyd became, so it’s no wonder that Gilmour chose to record his first, eponymous solo album at the same time.  I remember it, from a couple of years later, as a slightly patchy affair, but this song stays with me.

There’s no real mystery about how the emotional manipulation is achieved, involving, as it does, a solemn refrain with a dying fall, Gilmour’s beautiful voice and ever-reliable guitar work, those skipping extra beats, the break in the line, “the chance… you took”, soaring female backing vocals, etc.  My preferred version is this live promotional footage, found on YouTube.  I like Gilmour’s modest leadership of the band, and the fact that organist Ian McLagan is clearly having such a good time.

Concretism, ‘EP01 - Rabies Warning’ / ‘EP02 - Another Way Of Looking At It’ / ‘EP03 - Don’t Forget The Empties’ / ‘EP04 - Forewarned Is Forearmed’:

I’m highly attuned to anything using my current favourite building material as a referent right now, (although it’s no reason why a piece of music should be interesting per-se, of course).  Luckily, under the Concretism banner, Chris Sharp has produced music that suits me just fine on all four of these EP’s.  It clearly belongs in the Hauntology camp, amounting to, in his own words, a “grey world of sinister public information films, dusty archival sounds, Cold War Britain, and weeping analogue synths”.

Of course, the Hauntological checklist has become pretty standardised by this point, and certainly, there’s little here we haven’t already heard from Belbury Poly, The Advisory Circle, Pye Corner Audio, etc.  Nonetheless, Sharp’s music is a welcome addition to the canon.  I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff, and do enjoy a little conceptual harking back to the Britain of my youth.  His new album is high on my next shopping list.

Concrete / Field, ‘A Theory Of Psychic Geography’:

Which leads me to this CDR, burnt straight from the kitchen table/workshop bench of the Hacker Farm-related 19f3 ‘nano-label’.  Again, it’s no secret why I took a punt on this, given the name and title attached.  The splendid press release on the 19f3 website didn’t hurt either.

Working as Concrete / Field, Mark Chickenf1sh (really?) sculpts drones, sine waves and abstract frequencies into textural soundscapes the listener can actually inhabit.  His back catalogue shows an enthusiasm for the electrical buzz of coal-fired power stations or heavily processed, mechanical noises, but also an appreciation of landscape and the immersive environment generally.  Here, the relationship to place is given free conceptual rein through layers of nuanced sound that envelop the listener, rather than simply strafing the ears.  Again, there is that eliding of the rural, industrial and digital dimensions and a thoroughly contemporary sense of the hidden infrastructure woven through all aspects of contemporary life.

Ship Canal, ‘Please Let Me Back In Your House’:

Also from 19f3 comes this from Manchester’s own purveyor of DIY Dole-core Noise Art, Ship Canal, A.K.A. Daniel Baker.  Baker affects a beg-steal-or borrow approach to his equipment and a don’t-know-what-I’m-doing approach to technique, but if the latter’s true he’s a bit of a natural.  Like the Concrete / Field album, this lies at the point where Noise meets Ambient Sound Design, (do these labels really mean anything?), and is involving and environmental far more than it is confrontational or abrasive.

There does seem to be a certain political, (or at least sociological), intent behind Baker’s work, as revealed through certain speech samples woven through his otherwise abstract sounds, and it’s no surprise to see his work being championed through Hacker Farm channels.  Ultimately though, the Ship Canal project feels equally like an individual survival strategy, and a way for Baker to find both stimulation and expression amidst possibly frustrating personal circumstances.

Extnddntwrk, ‘Just Tracks’:

Andrew Fearn garnered loads of attention this year as half of everyone’s favourite East-Midlands ranting unit, Sleaford Mods.  However, a visit to Bandcamp reveals an extensive back catalogue of solo releases under the Extnddntwrk name, much of which is well worth a listen.  Several of the others download for free, so I was happy to shell out for this one on CD.

These electronic beat-sketches may generally lack the punkish aggression that attaches to Sleaford Mods, but they still demonstrate the stripped-down, economical approach of those more famous backing tracks.  Fearn is adept at leaving his sound uncluttered, (‘simple’ wouldn’t be insulting), whilst retaining our interest, and each piece has a distinct character or specific mood.  Nothing really goes anywhere in particular, but there’s always some sense of development if you pay attention, and the tracks rarely overstay their welcome.  The same may not be true of the extended, experimental piece that appends the album proper, and I’ve heard Fearn play with found sound and film and TV samples to greater effect elsewhere.

The CD release of ‘Just Tracks’ also includes a bonus disc of music from the Extnddntwrk archive.  It’s a great introduction to the oeuvre in general, taking in wobbly bass workouts, busier rhythms, sung vocals and even Punk and Metal guitar sounds, amongst much else.  It also points to the greater attack of the Sleaford Mods aesthetic, but gives the lie to the chancer-having-a-laff vibe of his persona in that unit, through sheer variety of work achieved.

Flying Lotus, ‘You’re Dead!’:

I have a lot of time for Flying Lotus, which is ironic, given that he’s the epitome of a butterfly mind, - endlessly alighting on each dazzling new idea or trope without allowing anything to really establish itself.  I enjoyed his previous full-length release, ‘Until The Quiet Comes’, but can appreciate that some find it just too amorphous or insubstantial.  This new one is a slightly more focused affair, whilst retaining FlyLo’s defining characteristics.  It even features tracks with a coherent groove throughout their, (admittedly short), entire extent.

‘You’re Dead!’ comes on like a Jazz album, although Stephen Ellison throws all his usual Hip-Hop, Soul, Electronica, and even Prog. elements into the pot too.  In reality, nothing this artificially assembled could really be termed true Jazz.  Nevertheless, he’s clearly channeling his Great Auntie Alice Coltrane very consciously.  Thundercat’s ubiquitous, School of Pastorius bass work adds to the overall Fusion flavour, and Ellison’s even got Herbie Hancock guesting on there, for crying out loud!

He also plays with Alice Coltrane’s open-ended approach to Eastern mysticism, - not least in the album’s different thematic interpretations of Death and what might come after.  As ever, Ellison is unafraid to engage with big ideas, whilst creating music that is far from portentous, and even seems cartoon-like on occasion.  It’s a bit like the aural equivalent of Fiona Rae’s painting and, similarly, - never less than entertaining.

Swans, ‘To Be Kind’:

Swans, (Michael Gira: Third From Left).

This title also seems ironic given Swans were once responsible for some of the most alienating quasi-industrial racket ever inflicted on audiences.  I’d contend it was never just about pissing people off though.  The band’s long history shows considerable musical evolution, and Michael Gira may just be the most emotionally honest artist working in music today.  He’s certainly one of the most intense, I suspect.

This reconstituted, late incarnation of Swans has been a revelation, - applying various aspects of earlier band phases to an expansive sound that is vast in its overall scope.  It combines raw power, and a persistence that seems almost pathological on occasions, with precision of execution and as skilful a deployment of subtleties and musical spaces as of the grand gestures.  It’s nominally Post Rock in genre terms, but mostly just sounds like itself.

The previous album, ‘The Seer’, was breathtaking, but this one may even top it.  There are wonderful things from beginning to end, but it’s hard to ignore the half-hour epic that is ‘Bring The Sun/Toussaint L’Ouverture’.  The first half amounts to a mantra that I find properly transcendent, whilst the second goes deeper into the heart of darkness than even the Doors’ ‘The End’ managed, (and without the leather trousers).  For once, bigger really is better.

Bob Dylan, ‘Shelter From A Hard Rain’:

Bob Dylan: "Someone's Got It In For Me…"

I can’t afford the recent multi-disc release of Dylan & The Band’s complete ‘The Basement Tapes’, but this is some recompense.  It’s an unofficially released document of the once televised, penultimate date of 1976’s ‘Rolling Thunder Review’, and augments the official ‘Hard Rain’ live album from the period.  I’ve enthused about the earlier record’s shambolic, almost apocalyptic qualities in an earlier playlist, but this one fleshes out the story further and lends Dylan’s performance a more three-dimensional aspect in the process.

The stresses under which the whole venture was undertaken are legendary, with torrential downpours delaying the Fort Collins arena event for two days whilst Dylan kept a TV crew on expensive retainer and descended into alcohol-fueled domestic warfare with his estranged wife, Sarah.  When his road-weary musical troupe finally took the stage, it’s a miracle they weren’t all electrocuted as their canopy leaked in the persisting deluge, and instruments detuned themselves in the humidity.  Somehow, he fed on it all to produce a performance that transmutes an undeniably sloppy presentation into something else altogether.

This record demonstrates there was more to the gig than just some one-man-against-the world psychodrama, however.  There are socially conscious songs here, sung in duet with Joan Baez, that show plenty of commitment.  These versions of ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’, ‘Railroad Boy’, Guthrie’s ‘Deportee’, and ‘I Pity The Poor Immigrant’, are well worth their inclusion, and the last three are real rarities, (unavailable elsewhere, I believe).

The duplication of tracks from ‘Hard Rain’ comes at the end, but I have no problem in paying twice for these versions of ‘Shelter From The Storm, Maggie’s Farm’, ‘One Too Many Mornings’ and ‘Idiot Wind’.  The latter, being Dylan’s notoriously bitter divorce song, heaps insult upon insult on Sarah before finally mustering some shreds of empathy and remorse from the wreckage to accept equal responsibility for the mess they (he?) created.  That she herself looked on as he dredged up this startling performance is rather astounding.

Aphex Twin, ‘Syro’:

I'm Generally Cynical About Marketing, But This Is An Amusing Example, I Suppose.

Hurrah!  At last, - a new, proper, Aphex Twin record, (although Richard D James hasn’t been exactly silent during his supposed withdrawal).  ‘Syro’ isn’t particularly breaking any new ground, or ahead of anyone’s game, (including James’ own), and he’s not trying to poke fun or deliberately irritate anyone either.  It is, however, full of splendid things and deeply satisfying as a whole.  It makes me remember how much we once relied on him for all this.  Deep joy.

Bob Dylan: 'Another Self Portrait'

Note:  In recent music-related posts I’ve attempted to focus on some kind of subjective response to the music at least as much as any contextual considerations.  In this case, it’s impossible to escape context by the very nature of the album under discussion.

The Overall Package Is Great But Don't Give Up The Day Job, Bob

And so, the regurgitation of Bob Dylan’s hidden back catalogue rolls inexorably onward.  ‘Another Self Portrait’ is the 10th volume in the so-called ‘Official Bootleg Series’ of such recordings.  For those with any interest in the man’s work, the question must arise, will there ever be an end to all this unheard material for us to spend our hard earned on?  In fairness, though, most of these releases have been illuminating documents, often serving to fill in big gaps in Dylan’s recording history or shed new light on his existing back catalogue.  In addition to their often startling musical content, they are generally well researched and packaged with extensive written notes and archive photos.  Certainly, as such a prolific and unofficially bootlegged artist as Dylan moves deeper into his 8th decade, it seems valid to put his musical affairs into some coherent order.

Bob Dylan, 'Self Portrait', 1970.  His Original Cover Image Was Inept But Far More Effective.

Volume 10 may just be the most surprising bulletin from the archives yet, as it provides an opportunity to repair the perceived damage done by Dylan’s much-derided 1970 album, - the original ‘Self Portrait’.  It allows us to appreciate how that deeply flawed piece was, as is acknowledged, Dylan’s attempt to sabotage his unwanted messianic status.  But also, how seriously engaged he actually was with much of the music he made at that time.

It also demonstrates how the records he released during his doomed attempt at some kind of settled family life in Woodstock, might be seen as a musical continuum rather than a series of possibly perplexing, discrete statements.  ‘John Wesley Harding’, ‘Nashville Skyline’, Self Portrait’, ‘New Morning’, ‘The Basement Tapes’, and indeed, the new material on ‘More Bob Dylan Greatest Hits’, now feel like a significant period in Dylan’s artistic development and this new issue helps to tie that together even further.  I’ve always been drawn to those less well-favoured releases, (being habitually suspicious of standard critical accounts), so this is indeed welcome.

The original ‘Self Portrait’ was an over-long ragbag of mismatched, misjudged components although not without its moments of interest, resonance or even beauty.  Dylan himself claimed to have thrown everything at the wall then included it all anyway, regardless of whether or not it stuck.  It features several pieces that might have made it onto its predecessors, - the spartan ‘John Wesley Harding’ or heavily Countrified ‘Nashville Skyline’.  Sadly, most sound like they’d have been second choices on either album.  It also finds room for covers of Paul Simon and Gordon Lightfoot songs, several standards, (his ‘Blue Moon’ is astonishing), and some genuinely interesting folkloric snippets from the songbook of ‘Old Weird America’.  There are extracts from his patchy Isle of White Festival performance, with The Band in dutiful tow, and some bits of instrumental filler, (‘Wigwam’ points the way toward 1973’s soundtrack for the film ‘Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid’, (an album I love).  It includes some truly bizarre arrangements with lush strings and crooned backing vocals and a variety of performance and singing styles, (including that smooth Nashville voice).  That the album opens with something resembling a heavily orchestrated opening title theme, featuring all female voices, (‘All the tired Horses’), underlines that this was far from standard Dylan fare.  I can only imagine what dedicated Bobcats made of it in 1970 [1.].

Dylan Walks Back Into Town.

‘Another Self Portrait’ scores big by reinstating several of the original’s key songs, either as alternative takes or by removing the overdubs that had lent them a faintly ludicrous flavour.  It’s fair to say that, in every case these versions feel fresher, and far more sincere.  Songs like ‘Little Sadie’, ‘Days Of 49’, ‘Alberta #3’ or ‘Belle Isle’, benefit massively from these more committed performances and simpler arrangements featuring Guitarist David Bromberg and pianist Al Kooper.  Dylan sounds engaged with the material and there’s a real sense that he was drawing on his vast knowledge of American folk tradition to find new ways forward in his own art.  This wasn’t a case of co-opting traditional forms for the protest movement, as before, but a humbler process of reintegrating his own practice into the larger tradition that shaped him and the country he travelled, long before he was an entertainment big shot or ‘The Voice of a Generation’.  

If that was an intrinsically conservative impulse, we should hardly be surprised.  Dylan’s own creative trajectory throughout the 60s was famously steep and the period of social and artistic change for which he became a figurehead had already proved unsustainable.  He had effectively burned out around the time of his mysterious motorcycle accident in 1966, and now, so had the decade that spawned his art.  His desire to set up home with his young family in a rural backwater, away from public scrutiny, and explore more rooted musical forms, is understandable. 

Bob Dylan & The Band, 'The Basement Tapes', 1967/75

‘The Basement Tapes’ that he’d recorded with The Band in Woodstock in 1967 [2.] showed there was a rich seam of sounds and imagery to be found within the old music and ‘Nashville Skyline’ demonstrated that Dylan was capable of finding deeper value in an unfashionable, ‘down home’ style.  This new archival release underlines that by including unreleased and alternative takes from both those sets.  Unfortunately, nothing he’d yet tried in Woodstock could shake off the burdensome public profile and weight of expectation on Dylan’s shoulders.  If the combination of inferior versions, eccentric material and deliberately contrary artistic choices on ‘Self Portrait’ couldn’t do it, what would?

Bob Dylan, 'Nashville Skyline', 1969

Yet, we can now see that Dylan didn’t throw everything at the wall.  ‘Another Self Portrait’ features numerous unreleased cuts from the original sessions and I think the inclusion of pretty much any of them would have made the original album stronger.  To my ear his rendition of the traditional ‘Spanish Is The Loving Tongue’ is amongst the most sensitive things he ever recorded, whilst ‘Annie’s Going To Sing Her Song’, ‘Railroad Bill’, ‘Thirsty Boots’, ‘This Evening So Soon’, ‘These Hands’ and ‘Tattle O’Day’ all benefit from strong performances with Bob in fine voice.  ‘House Carpenter’ is a familiar folk standard that he attacks with a swing and totally inhabits.

Just four months after ‘Self Portrait’ appeared, Dylan released ‘New Morning’, an album that, (despite an overtly religious ending), has always been among my favourites from his discography.  It was essentially cut from the same cloth of ongoing recording sessions as its predecessor but is everything that record wasn’t.  Whilst still stylistically varied, this one hangs together as a unit and, above all, sounds like a Bob Dylan album.  It’s pervaded by a strongly reflective, Gospel sensibility and, for me, is the strongest distillation of Dylan’s search for a cleaner, more honest mode of existence.  The motivation behind it seems genuine and personal.

Bob Dylan, 'New Morning', 1970

Hence, it is the inclusion of alternative and unreleased items from that album on this new collection that possibly fascinate me most of all.  The two dramatically different versions of ‘I Went To See The Gypsy’, are terrific, - not better than the album version, just different.  ‘Sign On The Window’ is a song I would happily have played at my funeral and has always felt like one of the purest, most reflective things Dylan ever did.  Strange then, to discover that he once contemplated kitting it out with lush orchestration, prominent organ stabs and a cascading harp.

In a similar fashion, we can hear how the joyous title track on ‘New Morning’ actually benefitted from the omission of the forceful horns and superfluous string section featured in this arrangement.  There’s nothing actually wrong with the slow paced version of ‘If Dogs Run Free’ here but pleasingly, I now find that the choice of the eccentric scat-jazz version on the finished album is fully justified.  It really comes to life there.  The same is essentially true of ‘Time Passes Slowly’, - a song that migrated from the two dramatically different versions featured here to the final album version’s almost crystalline evocation of a simple life well spent.

Ultimately, I find ‘Another Self Portrait’ fulfills it’s brief admirably.  It provides us with a wealth of evidence that, as the 1960s rolled over into the 70s, Bob Dylan was actually retooling both his art and his entire way of life, not just raking up disappointing scraps from a prolonged sabbatical.  If ‘Self Portrait’ was a dismissive diversion tactic in the midst of that period, the music here proves that, had Dylan chosen, it might have been a much stronger and wholehearted, condensed statement.  We can also see how the material that coalesced into ‘New Morning’ was subsequently refined and pared back to achieve the simple beauty it eventually achieved.

Dylan Attempts To Mend Some Fences

I think that, for all its inherent strengths and weaknesses, an important reason I've stuck with Bob Dylan’s music over the years is its consistent ability to fuse art with the unfolding drama of one man’s life without excessive recourse to autobiography.  Amongst the woods of upstate New York he may have shed his previous social engagement, or subsequent drug-fuelled electricity, but was in search of something more cleansing and infused with personal integrity.  I never fail to be moved by the following lines from ‘Sign On The Window’.  They cut through the merely trite to illustrate not only Dylan's state of mind but a more universal impulse also:

“Build me a cabin in Utah

Marry me a wife, catch rainbow trout

Have a bunch of kids who’ll call me 'Pa'

That must be what it’s all about

That must be what it’s all about” [3.].

[1.]:  Dylan Aficionado, Greil Marcus famously began his review of 'Self Portrait' with the words, "What's this shit?".  'Self Portrait No. 25', New York, Rolling Stone Magazine, June 1970.

[2.]:  Bob Dylan & The Band, 'The Basement Tapes', CBS Records, 1975.  This extensive catalogue of original and traditional material was recorded in the basement of 'Big Pink', (The Band's house in Woodstock), following Dylan's bike crash.  Originally attended as demos. for other artists to sing, it has since been cited as a milestone in Dylan's discography and major influence on Folk Rock on both sides of The Atlantic.  The official double album released in 1975, (with memorable artwork), is only a small selection of the material recorded in 1967.

[3.]:  Bob Dylan, 'Sign On The Window', Published: Big Sky Music, 1970.

Bob Dylan: 'Tempest'

At this late stage in his never-ending career, any new material by Bob Dylan is met with baited breath and crossed fingers by some and, probably, total indifference by the rest.  For those who actually care, the obvious questions this time might include:

• Will this one maintain the supposed run of form he’s been enjoying in his later years?

• Has he got his writing head on or is he satisfied to just rhyme lazy couplets?

• Has he still got that brilliant band behind him?

• Can he still express any recognisable human emotion with his wreck of a voice?

• Given the debate over the suggestive title, is this a conscious swan song or is that all just a marketing ploy?

• Did the intern spend his whole lunch break doing the lazy artwork and can I do the graphics next time?

Bob Wisely Elects to Stand In Front Of The Artwork

My first impression is that, yes, this is at least consistent with the last four, (possibly five), original albums, (I’m overlooking ‘Christmas In The Heart’ here as a charitable novelty release).  One might even regard it, in parts, as a companion piece to ‘Time Out Of Mind’ and it does share some of that album’s dark meditations on the aging process.  15 years ago that felt like Dylan’s first expressed intimation of his own mortality (through old age as opposed to rock & roll gun slinging), and there’s no point pretending it’s not dark now.

‘Tempest’ still draws from an extensive catalogue of musical tradition but this time more as a vehicle to get things off his chest than as part of a heritage industry.  In the wake of his “Theme Time Radio Hour’ satellite broadcasts, recent recordings have sometimes descended into vintage styling for nostalgia’s sake.  The opening two cuts here indicate more of the same but this album soon takes a different turn and when the fiddle blues of ‘Narrow Way’ kicks in, Dylan’s striding purposefully down his personal highway, just like you’d want.

Elderly Man, Fast Car & At Least Six Pretty Good Songs

It seems the real meat of the matter is in the 6 tracks occupying the middle section.  Here, Dylan appears to really have things to say and it’s the sense of genuine conviction that marks the album out from the last few.  Of late, we’ve sensed Bob rocking on his porch and casting his mind back over the years but here the ornery old curmudgeon often seems to be out of his seat and keen to straighten a few folks out.  ‘Pay in Blood’, displays plenty of that harsh, Old Testament justice, in response to human failings or personal slights, which has haunted his lyrics right from the start and violent retribution looms large in many of these lyrics.  ‘Tin Angel’ is a lengthy murder ballad of doomed love, not unlike ‘Rosemary, Lily & The Jack Of Hearts’ from ‘Blood On The Tracks’.  In other places there are hints of the existential melodrama that characterise the best bits of ‘Street Legal’ and a title like ‘Early Roman Kings’ could easily come from that record.  The implied threat of many of these lyrics goes along with a startling misogyny and sexual explicitness that appears sensationalist.  It becomes important to recognise the occasional moments of tenderness that also occur.

Much is being made of the epic title track, recounting the sinking of the Titanic over nearly 14 minutes and 45 short verses, but for me it’s the weakest thing here.  This certainly isn’t ‘Desolation Row’ in its drug-fuelled Beat poetry magnificence, just because that earlier song referenced the doomed ship, and lacks the surreal drama of ‘Black Diamond Bay’ or the satire of ‘Talkin’, Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues’.  The traditional sounding Irish refrain framing this lyric is trite and can’t support the song’s sagging edifice.  Dylan’s only slightly eccentric account of the events lacks the dark drama the subject demands and sounds more like a song about the mainstream film of the disaster.

Leonardo Di Caprio & Kate Winslett, 'Titanic', Dir. James Cameron, 1997

This band, led by David Hildago, is amongst the best Dylan’s had, (some achievement).  They can swing like maniacs and are tight but never clinical.  You could argue they’re wasted on these simplistic, repetitious song structures but that’s always been Dylan’s modus operandi really.  There are some excellent spacious arrangements with great use of accordion, violin, banjo and loads of light-touch snare drumming.  Dylan has plenty of room to stretch out and the clever production pushes his vocals to the forefront.  If that voice is no longer a viable tool live, he generally overcomes its limitations on this recording.  He can still get a little urgency into his gargling and demonstrates he’s not lost his real talent for properly risky phrasing.

Dylan And His Band Emphasise The Importance Of A Good Hat, Yet Again 

Who knows if this will be Dylan’s last original album?  I doubt if Bob does.  He appears to have always acted on instinct rather than by calculated strategy and has the luxury of doing pretty much what he wants while his stamina lasts, I guess.  If this were the last, it wouldn’t be a bad way to go out and it would have been an anti-climax to sign out with a collection of carols and cheesy Christmas songs.  Actually, there’s enough here to leave me wondering what the next one might sound like.