10–1/100 — My Top 10 Albums of All Time
Here we are, I can hardly believe it. These are just wall to wall amazing records. Please let me know which of them you’ve heard and what you thought about them. And if there’s any you’ve missed up until this point, I hope they give you a fraction of they joy they’ve given me. And now…*ahem*…LET’S TAKE THIS TOP 100 HOME!
10/100 — The Velvet Underground — White Light / White Heat (1968)
The Velvet Underground’s second album, White Light/White Heat, takes all the most abrasive and boundary pushing musical styles off of And Nico tracks like “European Son”, “I’m Waiting for the Man”, and “Heroin” and turns them into the focus of the entire album, further solidifying Lou Reed, John Cale, and co. as founders of a new rebellious aesthetic. Lyrically, Reed delves even deeper into the dark niches of society, exploring even more uncomfortably and explicitly the sex and drug scene of underground New York. This album genuinely made me super uncomfortable for the first year or so I owned it, and it still has the power to catch me off guard more than a decade later.
The title track explodes this album open with a blown out lo-fi boogie. It’s almost like if the Rolling Stones were jamming frantically inside of a garbage can that’s floating in space. The pounding piano, the completely washed out cymbals, and the completely chugging and over-compressed bass (the main instrument in the mix) all drive relentlessly forward as Lou sings about cocaine use. It feels like the sequel to “I’m Waiting for the Man.” The ending of the song breaks down into a train wreck of cacophonous distortion with the fuzzy bass guitar jumping up an octave and leaving the beat.
The next two songs are oddities in the VU catalogue because they are more narrative in structure than the rest of their songs tend to be. “The Gift” is a strange story (read by John Cale) of a man named Waldo who sends himself by mail to his estranged girlfriend who has move to another state for college. He’s so in love and so excited to see her, but when he gets there she’s talking to her room mate about making out with another guy. She hasn’t thought of him except in annoyance in months. When the girl can’t open the package she ends up stabbing a knife through the cardboard and straight into his skull “which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun”, ending Waldo’s life — and this song. Besides the bizarre 8 minute spoken word form of the track, the other slightly strange thing is that the left channel is only voice and the right channel is a lazy distorted instrumental jam, there’s no overlap.
The second narrative focused track is “Lady Godiva’s Operation” which is also sung by Cale and is equally as upsetting as “The Gift.” A similar lazy-paced jam bounces around the lyrics — this time with Cale’s droning electric viola swirling in the background. The first half of the song is about Lady Godiva and the fact that she consumes young men at an alarming rate. The second half involves the operation and the music gets stranger as a result. One of the guitar’s gets into a CCR style boogy and all the instrument’s distortion seems to amp up. There are also jarring interruptions from Lou Reed as he jumps in and finishes Cale’s sentences. As the operation begins Godiva’s body writhes and a heartbeat sound begins. As “the doctor makes his first incision” the band makes power tool sounds with their mouths to a slightly silly but quite unnerving effect. Meanwhile Godiva wakes up and moves while the scalpel is in her brain, killing her. The end. Ya…two head trauma narratives in a row. Pretty upsetting.
By comparison “Here She Comes Now” is outsider of the album both including the poppy structures of And Nico tracks like “Sunday Morning” and exploring the gentler musical meditations that would dominate the Velvet Underground’s next record. Reed’s voice croons slightly out of key over pretty muddy electric guitars. Meanwhile Cale, on his electric viola, switches between mirroring the melody and creating shifting microtonal melodies that sound like a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. It’s a nice little two-minute palette cleanser before the insanity of Side 2...
…which EXPLODES with the ferocious “I Heard Her Call My Name” which combines the most insane guitar work of “European Son” with a gospel-infused vocal energy (call and response backing vocals included). All of this is placed over one of Reed’s fastest boogies while Moe Tucker thrashes her drums relentlessly. It’s excitingly chaotic and exhausting and the guitar work is just insane.
Finally we come to the beast that is the album closer “Sister Ray.” I wrote about it back in 2012 for an assignment on my top 10 songs of all time. I like what I said despite it being in a different style than I would use now, so I will quote that with some slight alterations (in square brackets):
“Its 17-and-a-half minute journey is a crazy orgy of rhythm and creative musicianship and was recorded in one take. It is at once detached, visceral, dangerous, funny, sad, and terrifying. The characters are so high they can’t find their “main line” for injecting heroin and are just jabbing [their needles] at random into themselves. [The party is so out of control that when] someone shoots a sailor and the host says “You shouldn’t do that, don’t you know you’ll spoil the carpet,” and when the police show up someone complains “I haven’t got the time time, she’s busy sucking on my ding dong.” [The complete lack of priorities is darkly hilarious!] Two more things: Firstly, the battle between the John Cale’s organ and “Moe” Tucker’s drums is inspired and driven and huge and unrelenting and so technical while never losing any sort of animalistic drive; Secondly, the song develops like the party, wild but comprehensible into a crazed ecstasy and finally Lou Reed is stuttering and repeating himself while the instruments shift in and out of time in the confusion of the aftermath of the murder/ police [raid]/ high wearing off etc. [Finally] everything supernovas into a last triumphant and exhausted crescendo. [Musically it is] probably the best and most potent challenge to 1967’s Sgt Pepper’s imaginable. Epic on all levels. A true musical masterpiece.”
White Light/White Heat is an exhaustingly exhilarating adventure into the dark minds of Reed and Cale. Listening through the album, you can almost hear the fabric of the music industry being torn and new genres screaming to break out like demons from the void. It may not be pleasant, but damn if it isn’t inspiring. Having now written the reviews for both And Nico and WLWH I think I might swap their positions in the Top 100, but don’t let that drop of four spots detract from this albums chaotic genius and importance.
Favourite Tracks: “Sister Ray”, “I Heard Her Call My Name” “White Light/White Heat”
Least Favourite Track: “Lady Godiva’s Operation”
Bonus Cover Version for kicks:
9/100 — Tim Buckley — Lorca (1970)
Besides my cousin Dan, the other person who has most influenced the broadening of my musical tastes is probably Piero Scaruffi. If you take even a casual look at his list of Best Rock Albums of All Times you will see his influence on my own list. Scaruffi also lists Tim Buckley as the single most underrated musical artist of all time. I think this might be true. I think I may have only had conversations about Tim Buckley with two people (shout out to Sean D and Dane L). Any other conversations I’ve had about him go something like this: “Oh, you like Jeff Buckley? I think his dad Tim Buckley is better, and he also died at a tragically young age. You should check him out! Oh, you’re not going to? Ok.” The end.
While Happy Sad (which appears earlier on my Top 100) was a sort of psychedelic folk-rock dream, Lorca is an insane fusion of blues, rock, and Bitches Brew jazz jams, which amps up the nightmare in some places and the transcendence in others.
On the opening ten-minute title track Buckley seems to intone each word rather than sing them. He savours every note, dragging each one out to it’s maximum. He also rolls the vowel sounds around creating new timbres and sonic shapes which add deeper meaning to the lyrics. On face value the lyrics can sound quite cheerful: “Let the sun sing in your smile, let the wind hold your desire.” But sung in such a mournful tone, over the repeatedly descending sinister chords, they become ever more upsetting than the saddest lyrics another artist could pen. Oh, and how fucking delicious is the insane Rhodes keyboard solo that runs consistently throughout the whole track. It’s completely bonkers (a la Bitches Brew) and really adds to the nightmare tone. The track ends with a droning organ and Buckley wailing like a ghost while the guitar and Rhodes track flourishes. It’s a stunning and exhausting work that deserves attention but I would never use it to introduce someone to Buckley’s sound.
“Anonymous Proposition” is a much slower and spacious track, dominated by double bass and electric guitar. These instruments solo freely and independently underneath Buckley’s drawn out vocals. It’s an incredible vocal performance, absolutely masterful in its control, and the song has a genuinely lovely tune. The lyrics are beautifully poetic, and yet the melancholy with touches of despair don’t ever quite let us escape the realm of nightmares.
Love me, as if someday you’d hate me
For what I give is yours without a name
To fill your night long needs
Only as long as you say
“I Had A Talk With My Woman” — arranged for bass, guitars, and conga drums — moves the fastest so far as Buckley travels up the mountain (“I wanna go upon a mountain/And sing my love and sing my love”) in search of transcendence. The conga and floating guitar melodies feel like a new age meditation, but despite the much brighter vocal delivery, the lyrics leave the search unsatisfied:
Well you know your Moses, oh lord he lost his way
Ah, and your Jesus don’t remember the words
Well then I guess it’s just you and me brother
All alone in this cold world
“Driftin’” opens stylistically with the same intense vocals and drawn out form of “Anonymous Proposition” but transitions into a slow and heavy groove that feels like Van Morrison is strung out on morphine. The guitar work draws from the “American Primitive” genre pioneered by John Fahey and the electric solo about two thirds in is really gorgeous. Again the lyrics explore a sense of lack, and happiness that disappears just out of reach at the moment it’s about to be caught. It’s heartbreaking stuff sung by a heartbreaking voice:
Late last night as I dreamed in dizzy sunlight
I thought I heard your bare feet up the stairs
Just like a fool, just like a fool
My favourite track is probably the album closer “Nobody Walkin’.” It returns to the frantic intensity of “Gypsy Woman” with its rocking gospel-electric piano, conga madness, and steady strumming guitars driving it forward. Here Buckley draws especially deep from the well of Blues tropes, and transforms them into the kind of lyrical epics Led Zeppelin loved to write. Strangely tho, while this is the track that has the most moving energy of the whole album, it’s also the song that shows that all of the loneliness and longing that has dominate the album so far is definitely partly the fault of the protagonist. He leaves his “woman, standing in the backdoor crying.” And while she shouts after him, “You got a home as long as I got mine,” he admits that he’s leaving to show her that as amazing as she is she can’t perfectly satisfy him and keep him tied down. But this backfires and some indefinite time later, as he’s trapped in the violence of a rain storm he has to acknowledge how good she was to him: “Ain’t nobody living, anybody giving/Ever pay the price I owe her.” It’s just great. There’s no reunion or real resolution, just a final admission of guilt after 5 songs of sophisticatedly disguised self pity.
I love this record. The vocal performances are absolutely stunning and the lyrics are poetic and rich. I love the Rhodes in almost any setting but its sparkling tones explode with the amazing solos strung throughout, and I’m a bit of a sucker for congas too. I doubt my inclusion of two Tim Buckley records on my list will change his status as most underrated musical artist of all time, but if I can make one convert I’ll consider it a victory.
Favourite Tracks: “Nobody Walkin’”, “I Had A Talk With My Woman”, “Lorca”
Least Favourite Track: “Driftin’”
8/100 — Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band — Trout Mask Replica (1969)
Ohhhhh boyyyyyy. Here we go. Trout Mask Replica is probably the most insane album ever recorded. It makes Uncle Meat seem well structured by comparison. Produced by iconoclast Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band break all the rules on this crazy collage of blues, rock, spoken word, skits, free jazz, and noise. Buckle up, it’s gonna be almost as hard to talk about as it is to listen to.
First let me say, this is a divisive record. Just look at the amazon customer reviews; out of almost two hundred reviews nearly 50% are 5 stars and 35% are 1 star. That’s a heck of a spread from, “This is the great record of all time,” to, “This is garbage that isn’t even music.” For the record, I found this when Scaruffi had it as his #1 album of all time, but it took me multiple attempts over the course of two years to get through all 80 minutes of it in one sitting. I still usually either listen to one side of vinyl at a time to make it digestible. It’s that much work.
I’ve literally heard radio DJ’s say, “Your stereo isn’t broken, it’s supposed to sound like this, I promise,” before playing the opening track, “Frownland.” What happens next is the most angular arrangement of chaos. Two guitars, bass guitar, and drums, all seemingly playing separate songs —al though they change sections together consistently — while Beefheart sing-talks over it all. Surprisingly tho, the lyrics are delightfully uplifting!
My smile is stuck
I cannot go back to your frownlandMy spirit’s made up of the ocean
And the sky and the sun and the moon
And all my eyes can see
I cannot go back to your land of gloom
“Frownland” is less than two minutes long, but even still the next track, “The Dust Blows Forward ’n’ The Dust Blows Back” is a welcome relief. It’s just Beefheart singing into a tape recorder. Remarkably you can hear the edits in between lines and it’s clear that some of the mistakes and retakes are left in intentionally. It’s almost as if you’re overhearing a travelling hobo singing a little joyful ditty while he bathes in a creek. It’s happy stream of consciousness nonsense.
“Dachau Blues” shifts the mood suddenly as Beefheart growls out a song about the gas chambers of Nazi concentration camps, and a warning to make sure there isn’t a WWIII where this can happen again. The outro is a (probably) completely unrelated spoken word chunk about a man with a stutter trying to kill rats before “Ella Guru” thumps in. The riffs here are a little more straightforward but that’s only by comparison. And the lyrics are really absurd:
Now, here she comes, walkin’, lookin’ like a zoo
(Hello, moon, hello, moon)
Hi, Ella, high Ella Guru
She knows all the colors that nature do
Next is the first of the Zappa-eque deviant instrumental improvisations. “Hair Pie — Bake 1” is mostly saxophone and clarinet swooping and squawking with some other chunks of instrumentation running underneath and in between them. At 5 minutes, it’s the first song to break the 3 minute running time. I love the guitar riff that comes in about half way, sounding almost like the intro to a song by U2 except for the chaos surrounding it. The outro is again a tape recorder piece — this time it’s the captain interviewing some teenagers on the street and telling them about his recording, and he get’s the title wrong and has to correct himself.”
Next is probably the most song-like piece so far…or maybe on the whole album: “Moonlight on Vermont” (a play on the Ella Fitzgerald classic “Moonlight in Vermont”). Here Beefheart hollers, “Gimme that old time religion! Gimme that old time religion!” in something that resembles a chorus. The riffs are complex but comprehensible, the tumbling drums seem to land in time consistently, and Beefheart’s voice is really strong. It’s a great tune and probably your best starting point if you’re interested in this avant-garde monolith.
So. We’re now through 18 minutes and about a quarter of the way into the album. I’m never gonna get through all of it, so let me hit some highlights:
- “A squid eating dough in a polyethelene bag is fast and bulbous, got me?” and the bouncy intro to “Pachuco Cadaver.” Not to mention the Waitsian strange narration of weird characters.
- The sweet love and admiration of the “Sweet Sweet Bulbs” that grow “in my lady’s garden.”
Her feet kept by the ground, her toes bare brown
Her carriage, she’d abandoned like a hand-me-down
She walked back into nature, a queen uncrowned
She had just recognized herself to be an heir to the throne
- Everything about the insanity that is the free association “Neon Meate Dream of a Octafish.”
- The legitimate Delta-style blues (only guitar and vocals) of “China Pig” with it’s snuffling and snorting and the tale of getting to a point of poverty where you have to eat a pet to survive.
- The weird lines on “My Human Gets Me Blues” where he talks about God wishing he could play with a doll, but no one asked him before they made him a boy.
- The southern spiritual stylings of the vocals only “Well”
- The clarinet solos on “When Big Joan Sets Up” and the lines about “her hands are too small.”
- The line “FAST AND BULBOUS” that appears a couple times randomly.
- “She’s Too Much For My Mirror” and the goofy intro by Zappa
- The completely insane “The Blimp (mousetrapreplica)” where Zappa records an impromptu spoken word bit over the phone and then gets his band to put music under it. It’s frantic like a 30s news bulletin about an invasion. There’s also Zappa talking about it as he’s recording it which is an interesting behind the scenese thing.
- And the jangly groove of album closer, “Veteran’s Day Poppy.”
That’s it for now. I can’t stress enough how bananas this record is. It must be experienced. So why is it this high on my list? Because it is always fresh. It’s so complex and strange that I hear new things every time I listen. I also love Beefheart’s voice — it inspired Tom Waits. And it does an amazing job of blending the cute, the serious, the absurd, and the silly all at once. It’s like a prog-blues collage. It’s fascinating and frustrating and has made an indelible mark on my psyche.
Favourite Tracks: “Moonlight On Vermont”, “Pachuco Cadaver”, “Veteran’s Day Poppy”
Least Favourite Track: Uhh… “Bill’s Corpse” maybe?
7/100 — Bob Dylan — Highway 61 Revisited (1965)
Listen, every album from Bob Dylan’s great 1965/66 trilogy lands on my Top 10, so I’m gonna try and be brief, and I think I’ll include a random Dylan story as well.
So, first story. Between grade 11 and 12 I had a job at a greenhouse that was owned by the dad of one of my classmates. This class mate and a number of other employees were obsessed with Bob Dylan, and I just did NOT get it. This was before I had an iPod, and on one of the long and tedious work days, I borrowed one guy’s iPod and put it on shuffle. A few songs in, “A Hard Rain’s A‐Gonna Fall” (from The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan) began to play and I was too busy to skip it. It’s also almost 7 minutes long and a few minutes in I started to be completely captivated by the endless stream of bizarre post-apocalyptic images he was conjuring. I thought, “This is insane, every verse in this song could have a whole song written about it!” Then as I was still reeling, “Hurricane” off of Desire began to play, and now Dylan switched from vague metaphors to an epic true crime story trying to defend a man he alleged was innocent. Those two songs back to back made me a Bob Dylan fan.
Ok. On to Highway 61 Revisited.
From the opening snare hit of “Like a Rolling Stone” and the subsequent organ swell, barroom piano and intermittent tambourine hits, there’s something special about this record. Sonically it’s a wall of sound before that technique was properly invented. The band is outrageously good. Everyone is noodling and improvising lightly at once but it creates a very coherent whole. And Dylan’s voice is right up front. And it’s cocky. There’s a sneer and swagger on this record that I don’t think he ever quite matches again. “How does it FEEL?” he asks someone, who has clearly fallen from grace, and you can tell he’s relishing in it.
Nobody’s ever taught ya’ how to live out on the street
And now you’re gonna have to get used to it
“Tombstone Blues” ramps up both the pace and the absurdity as Dylan recites bizarre rhymes over a pounding country-tinged rocker. Seriously, the brief inter-verse guitar solos are amazing. And even though the lyrics aren’t very coherent, Dylan maintains a distinct attitude of protest and rebellion.
The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, “Death to all those who would whimper and cry”
And dropping a barbell he points to the sky
Saying, “The sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken”
The stylistic differences from track to track really show off the versatility of Dylan’s band as well as his new sense of creative freedom having thrown off the restraints of the folk snobs he came up with. “It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train to Cry” goes full country shuffle before “From A Buick 6” gets down with a wonderful bluesy groove. Then out of nowhere, “Ballad Of A Thin Man” stomps in with it’s heavy handed piano and haunted organ. It is a sinister and disorienting song and Dylan is at his most derisive. “Something is happening, but you don’t know what it is, do you Mr. Jones?” On an album full of delightfully impressionistic and absurd lyrics, this is perhaps the strangest.
The other bizarrity is the title track which is chock full of strange characters interacting with each other in strange ways while the band does a ripping double shuffle a la Elmore James. Some of you may know that I am slightly obsessed with the “akeda” — the story sometimes known as the Binding of Isaac from Genesis 22. “Highway 61 Revisited” has one of the silliest retellings of this story with a confused Abraham calling God out as a prankster and God replying with threats. I love it:
Oh God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”
Abe said, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”
God say, “No.”
Abe say, “What?”
God say, “You can do what you want, Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’ you better run”
Well Abe says, “Where you want this killin’ done?”
God says, “Out on Highway 61”
After all of the band’s wonderful interplay and rocking grooves, the album closes on a more somber note with the magnificent “Desolation Row.” With it’s simple arrangement for two guitars and double bass and with it’s 11 minute run time it resembles side 2 of Bringing It All Back Home more than the rest of Highway 61 Revisited, but it doesn’t feel out of place. Rather it feels like, after all the raucous hubbub of the rest of the record, it’s finally time to make our way to bed. The instruments dance transcendentally while Dylan pours out verse after verse of wonderful and strange images. Fairy tales, bible stories, scientists, Shakespearean characters, and great historical figures swirl around each other in a dreamlike flow, tinged with a note of sadness from Dylan’s delivery. I strongly urge you to put this on in the evening and just listen while everything flows by, but take a little extra effort to appreciate the mastery of the lead guitar. It’s really stunning.
What a record! Alright. More on Bob Dylan soon. Get into it!
Favourite Tracks: “Desolation Row”,“Like A Rolling Stone”, “Tombstone Blues”
Least Favourite Song: “Queen Jane Approximately”
Bonus Cover Version:
6/100 — The Rolling Stones — Exile on Main St. (1972)
This. This is rock n roll.
I’m ashamed to say I’d never heard Exile on Main St. until the 2010 reissue came out, but for the last 8 years it has been growing by leaps and bounds into one of my favourite records ever. It’s…it’s got it all. And maybe that has something to do with the fact that this is in large part a Keith Richards helmed project as opposed to a Mick Jagger led one.
Right from the opening riff of “Rocks Off” and Mick’s seedy background “Oohhh yeaaah!” this record is ready to blow your face off. When the piano jumps in it’s electric, and then when the chorus comes in and THOSE FUCKING HORNS start to scream over top of everything it’s pure LIGHTNING. Seriously. The horns. Get them in your ear holes. There’s also something kind down an dirty to the recording. The vocals are pulled back a bit, and Keith’s voice is almost as loud as Mick’s when he joins in. And the loose arrangements feel a bit like Dylan’s band on his trilogy.
Oh, and you thought “Rocks Off” was on fire? “Rip This Joint” is the definition of rippin’! Its shuffling beat just flies by and the boys feel like they’re actually screaming just to keep up. “ Wham, Bham, Birmingham, Alabama don’t give a damn!” And the sax solo followed by Keith’s guitar and the honky tonk piano madness is just mindblowing.
Then they slow things down (but not to much) on “Shake Your Hips” — a rattling blues number originally by harmonica bluesman Slim Harpo. It really shows off Keith’s guitar playing and has an appropriately delicious harmonica solo at the end.
Every track on this record is some sort of synthesis of all the best things in rock, blues, R&B, country, and gospel. It’s remarkable. “Tumbling Dice” adds gospel style backing vocals, “Sweet Virginia” is a lonesome cowboy song with a wailing mournful harmonica, “Torn and Frayed” combines honky tonk stylings with gospel chord progressions to make something new, and “Sweet Black Angel” combines a folk protest song (here in honour of civil rights activist Angela Davis) with a sort of cajun feel by adding washboard scratches and a slight patois accent to the vocals.
Meanwhile, “Loving Cup” feels like a hybrid of an Elton John piano ballad with the Band’s loose folk rock ramblings. And later there’s the junk yard crunch of “Ventilator Blues” and “I Just Want To See His Face”, both which could be songs by Tom Waits with just a little more growl to them.
A lot of bands releasing a double album might run out of steam at some point, but somehow the Stones never do. In fact, the last 5 songs are some of the strongest. “Let It Loose” is a beautiful ballad and might be some of Mick’s best vocal work on the record. “All Down The Line” is just pure rock n roll boogie. I love how Richards makes his guitar sound like a dirty blues harmonica. Oh, and those sexy horns are back. Just take a second to listen to how the Stones build the groove for “Stop Breaking Down,” it’s a little baffling how natural it feels considering how segmented the individual parts are at first. It’s got a ripping harmonica solo as well.
The album ends with the one-two punch of “Shine A Light” and “Soul Survivor.” “Shine A Light” is a giant gospel thumper in that classic style that also birthed “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” The pounding piano in the transitional moments and the Oooo’s of the background choir really drive the vibe forward. Oh and it’s got one of the best guitar solos on the record. “Soul Survivor” on the other hand hits the blues rock hard again. I love the way it plays with the tempo. It sums up the sliding loose grooves that have typified the rest of Exile, and it throws the works at the outro: the rocking piano, the great guitar work, the backing gospel vocals, horns (this time filling out the bass not accenting the treble), and Mick Jagger’s classic dancing preacher delivery.
When I finally discovered Exile On Main St. part of the reason that it captivated me so quickly was that it both synthesized the music I loved that came before (Dylan, the 50’s rockers, the early R&B legends) and greatly influenced much of what I loved after it (Tom Waits, The Clash, etc.) It was my missing link, and it has become one of the cornerstones of my musical life. Oh, and — one more time — those fucking horns man! Undeniable.
Favourite Tracks: “Rip This Joint”, “Rocks Off”, “Shine A Light”
Least Favourite Track: “Happy” …maybe?
5 — Bob Dylan — Bringing It All Back Home (1965)
Dylan story #2:
I saw Bob Dylan live in 2008. I was row 12 or so in GM Place (now the Rogers Arena). His band was insanely tight, and, while it kind of felt like they just propped him against an electric piano and left him there to mumble into the microphone, he seemed to genuinely be having fun — which made the show kind of fun. Apparently the rest of the audience didn’t really agree. The concert was terribly reviewed and it seems like everyone from about row 20 to the back couldn’t make heads or tales of what song was being played when. But screw all that! I’ve seen Bob Dylan live. That’s what matters. (Also shout outs to Mel who came and saw him with me!)
Ok. Here’s Bringing It All Back Home. Dylan “goes electric” and, as far as I’m concerned, changes music for ever. He risked alienating his whole established audience to push music forward by going back. Apparently the title of the album comes from the fact that — despite his folk music roots — Dylan had grown up listening the first wave of rock and roll, which was born in America. But he’d since noticed that most of the good rock was coming out of the UK, so he figured he’d bring it back to the US. Ironically it would drive British music forward as well because while working on this record Dylan met the Beatles and apparently was a big influence on them moving into deeper artistic territory— seriously, look at the quantum leap their records took between ’64 and ’65. I can barely get through Beatles for Sale and then the next year Rubber Soul comes out!
Anyway, enough about all that. The music baby, the music!
I love the tease for the first quarter second of album opener “Subterranean Homesick Blues” — for just two beats there’s a solo acoustic guitar before an electric chimes in on top of it and then the whole band bursts in with a bouncing groove that Dylan is almost rapping over. “ Johnny’s in the basement/ Mixing up the medicine/ I’m on the pavement/ Thinking about the government…”
Dylan had used bizarre lyrical imagery and stream of consciousness style lyrics before (“A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” and “Bob Dylan’s Dream” respectively) but they become the focus of BIABH in a way they hadn’t until now. Where are the protest songs? Well if you dig in to the lyrics the protest is there. The title is about living in a bunker post nuclear war, and there’s plenty of allusions to unions and forging your own path against the status quo. Oh, and to add just one more revolutionary thing to this song (only the first on the record!), it is generally regarded as having the first music video ever.
“She Belongs To Me” continues with the electric band (as does the rest of the first side) but it slows things down. Its sweet love song feel and well sung delivery could be a folky song off any of his earlier records except for the slightly absurd lyrics — which actually subvert the love song delivery.
She wears an Egyptian ring
It sparkles before she speaks
She’s a hypnotist collector
You are a walking antique
It’s almost as if Dylan is saying, “Even if you think this woman belongs to you, she’s actually in control and doesn’t belong to anyone.” I love that flip. Musically speaking, I particularly love the swirling electric guitar which plays over a slow railroad drum beat.
Where are the protest songs? Right here! “Maggie’s Farm” is maybe the greatest protest song of all time. Why? Because, by abstracting the force against which we are rebelling, Dylan allows us to insert whatever power we feel constrained by: a boss, a government, a relationship, a societal expectation.
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am
But everybody wants you
To be just like them
They say “Sing while you slave” and I just get bored
Ah, I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more
The British used “Maggie’s Farm” to protest Margaret Thatcher (Maggie is short for Margaret). Rage Against the Machine turned it into a molotov of 90’s angst. It’s timeless and brilliant. Oh, and apparently it was recorded in a single take. WHAT?
“Love Minus Zero/No Limit” returns to the same sort of arrangement as “She Belongs To Me,” but it’s even sweeter. The drums perfectly compliment the slightly swinging feel of the guitars and bass. “Outlaw Blues” on the other hand is the sort of down and dirty blues boogie that CCR would build their careers on. Just listen to that delicious harmonica argue back and forth with the organ in the background. Also, this brilliant line: “Well, I might look like Robert Ford/But I feel just like a’Jesse James.”
“On The Road Again” is a restrained 12 bar blues with silly lyrics (of the style the Beatles would emulate on Let It Be five years later.) Dylan’s vocal delivery is extremely entertaining and the guitar get’s looser with the noodling as things go on.
Well, I go to pet your monkey
I get a face full of claws
I ask who’s in the fireplace
And you tell me Santa Claus
Side one ends with the 6 minute “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream.” There’s an entertaining false start before an epic stream of consciousness tale begins to unravel. As entertaining as the lyrics are (and they really are) the heart of the track is the way the guitar and organ duel and improvise the entire song. There’s no two moments that repeat for them while the bass and drums hold down a stomping groove. It’s one of those grooves that I’m sad whenever it ends (even after 6 minutes.)
Side two shows a brilliance that extends beyond the musical. The second half of the record is a set of acoustic songs. This a) allowed fans who didn’t like the rocking first half to leave the record just on the side they liked while b) giving them a good reason to still buy the record and c) giving them the opportunity to eventually flip the record out of curiousity and maybe discover that the electric side isn’t that bad, thus bringing them along with Dylan’s new musical direction.
“Mr. Tambourine Man” is perhaps one of Dylan’s best known songs and possibly his best vocal performance on the record. The Byrds took it to Number 1 in the UK with their cover. It’s also some of his loveliest poetry in it’s psychedelic abstraction:
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wandering
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancin’ spell my way
I promise to go under it
“Gates of Eden” continues with the poetry rich style while he criticizes the excess of society by showing how far human kind has fallen from the paradise of biblical garden of Eden. This is followed by the epic “Hard Rain” style rambling protest songs. It’s a challenging listen. Not only is it 7.5 minutes long, but it’s more lyrically dense than almost anything on the record with Dylan working in more syllables per verse than ever before. If you listen to the live version that appears on Before the Flood you can hear that the crowd loves this song. Lines that jump out include “Don’t hate nothing at all except hatred,” “Make everything from toy guns that spark/ To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark/ It’s easy to see without lookin’ too far/ That not much is really sacred” and “But even the President of the United States/ Sometimes must have to stand naked.” That last one gets a huge cheer live.
The album closes with “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” which almost feels like it could fit on Blood on the Tracks. It’s a sweet tune but there’s a bitterness underneath with Dylan’s voice straining at points in a way that’s quite evocative.
A lot of people prefer Highway 61 Revisited to BIABH. So why don’t I? For starters I enjoy the dual nature of the record. There’s something focused about each half that I like. I also just adore the first half so much. There’s not a weak track in the bunch in my opinion. And thirdly, there’s something special about it being the one that launched the trilogy, and the fact that I bought it before Highway 61, so it’s got just that little extra nostalgia factor for me.
Favourite Tracks: “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream”, “Mr. Tambourine Man”, “Maggie’s Farm”
Least Favourite Track: “Gates of Eden”
Bonus Cover Version:
4/100 — Oscar Peterson Trio — Night Train (1963)
Unlike many of the jazz albums I have included on this Top 100 Albums list, Night Train isn’t especially innovative or challenging. What it is, is my favourite example of a classic jazz blues trio — piano, drums, and bass. Oscar Peterson is generally considered to be one of the most virtuosic piano players in jazz — and if not the greatest, then only second to Art Tatum. Tatum is perhaps the fastest and most technical player, but to me he’s all flash. Peterson has all (or nearly all) the raw skill of Tatum, but damned if he doesn’t have some heavy soul as well. In a lot of way’s Night Train is a pop album — it’s got a damn good cover of “Georgia On My Mind”— but it’s also just an exquisite document of one of the best pianists of all time doing what he does best, and enjoying it so deeply that it brings others immense joy.
This is one record that I listen to almost exclusively on vinyl. It was one of the first records I ever bought, and I love the way it fills a room on a good set of speakers. It kicks off with the title track and a piano flourish before a lilting blues sets it. If I ever refer to a jazz track as having a train-like groove it’s probably because it subconsciously reminds me of this song and the train in the title. Just listen to the piano sparkle as the drums and bass chug along at a pace that feels slow but unstoppable. Oh, and the bass solo is SO good. He mirrors the improvisations that have already occurred in the piano and shifts them. I just love how the whole track finds that sweet combination of strong and gentle.
“C-Jam Blues” opens with the bass roving all over the place while Peterson hits a single staccato note before he begins to just dance up and down over the whole keys. It’s not heavy, or distracting, just…light and sparkling. Oh and the little breaks in the rhythm section where Peterson is just free flying before they catch him effortlessly are so good. If you listen carefully in those moments (and throughout the rest of the record) you can hear him humming along with his improvisations. That blows my mind because, having taken some jazz lessons, I know that you can easily let your fingers get ahead of your brain while improvising and still have it work. This humming shows a deeper level of consciousness and intention in the playing…and that’s with him playing faster and more complicated (but effortless sounding) riffs than many can pull off. Take just the intro to “Georgia On My Mind.” Just the first 16 seconds before that eternal Ray Charles melody kicks in. It’s effervescent! Meanwhile the rest of the song takes the opportunity to explore each verse with a different musical palette; here it’s straight up blues, there it’s lounging, and then it’s almost classical if it wasn’t swung. And yet it never feels fragmented because of the drum and bass consistently swinging along.
“Bag’s Groove” really shows off the bass playing and if you pay attention to the drums on “Moten Swing” the subtlety and understated finesse will blow you away. All three members of the trio have that. Just listen to the fill at around 45 seconds on “Easy Does It.” It’s such a simple melody but that fill is anything but easy.
Side 2 kicks off with the first really fast song on the record with “Honey Dripper” which chugs a long like a run away train and really shows off Peterson’s ability with his left hand. The whole trio is just flying here and there’s a great little gospel groove moment near the end.
“Things Ain’t What They Used To Be” is another slow blues but it really showcase the drummer’s amazing support ability. Meanwhile “I Got It Bad And That Ain’t Good” is another “Georgia” style ballad which shows off Peterson’s ability to improvise variations on a theme.
Finally there’s the absolutely perfect “Hymn To Freedom,” which, depending on the day, may be my favourite single recording of all time. As the title suggests it takes the form of an old gospel hymn, and beginning with a somber and rich piano solo. Listen to how full the piano feels just on it’s own. It’s taking it’s time but never is it plodding. The main melody is regal but the little bridge has a swing to it that wants to burst out. Then the bass and drums come in and, by maintaining the established somber attitude, give Oscar the space to play a little. It feels like a person who has been standing still has begun to sway with the music, not quite dancing but shuffling his feet slightly, picking up momentum and easing his way into the beat. When the drums switch to the ride for the third time through, and add a delicious little drag beat on the snare, the bass starts to swing, and Oscar’s fingers are fully dancing, sparkling, twirling, over the keys. And then, after one of the most deft little fills, a storm begins to brew! Peterson begins to shake his hands like thunder over full chords in both hands, creating an absolutely immense sound that builds and builds, and part way through the snare begins to roll and add to the hugeness. I love how you can hear the drummer listening to the piano as he jumps in and then when Oscar suddenly pops out the other side of the cloud the drums are not expecting it, and the drum roll continues — but only for the briefest of moments! The drums continue for exactly two beats, about a half second (like the echoes of the thunder) before casually switching back to the swing beat like it’s nothing. I‘m obsessed with those two beats. Finally there’s a return to the more hymn-like attitude of the opening, but now the drums and bass are there as if to acknowledge the fact that we aren’t where we started.
As I’ve said, this piece is one of my favourites of all time. To me it is magical, but remains deeply rooted. It is solemn, but watch it dance! It is mournful of the past, but hear it sing for joy for the hope of the future!
Night Train is three of the best, doing what they do best, and filling what they do with so much love and joy that it is undeniable. I hope that, even if you’re not a “jazz fan,” you would give this remarkable record a try.
Favourite Tracks: “Hymn To Freedom”, “C-Jam Blues”, “Easy Does It”
Least Favourite Track: “I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good)”
3/100 — John Coltrane — A Love Supreme (1965)
Generally considered to be John Coltrane’s masterpiece, A Love Supreme (like The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady) is more of a symphonic suite than a collection of jazz tunes. Each of the four movements has it’s own form that the combo improvises over and around, warping its texture and shape over the course of the song. It’s as if the modality of Kind of Blue has been infused with the free jazz of The Shape of Jazz to Come.
The album opens with what feels like a grand announcement: a gong like cymbal hit followed by a saxophone flourish while the piano strikes resonant chords up and down the keyboard. Then the thematic bassline begins its noble groove. Immediately all the members of the band are playing over and around variations on this bass line theme. Every single member of the quartet explores just enough that listening to each individual is entertaining while also contributing to a cohesive whole. It’s a remarkable talent. Sometimes I just listen to the bass. Sometimes just to the piano. It doesn’t matter who I pick, there is something worth attending to. About halfway through the first movement (“Acknowledgement” ) Coltrane begins to mimic the main motif but jumps around unpredictably repeating the same rhythm and spacing in new keys while the piano sounds like it tries to play any note except the ones Coltrane is hitting. This spiraling dance builds tension and confusion but never falls apart until finally everyone returns to the original riff right before the band begins to chant “A love supreme!” in the same form as the original bass line. Then the band fades out and there is a short transitional bass solo.
The second movement (“Resolution”) begins with a bass solo which creates a sense of continuity before the band bursts into one of my favourite jazz riffs of all time. Coltrane’s sax line soars and dances and repeats just enough to get itself lodged in your ear before the band starts to break apart only to return to the opening riff again. I almost always scat along with the opening riff. That octave jump and then swirling descent is really fun. This movement maintains a kinship with the first because the piano chords are similar, but this track moves a lot more. There’s a brilliant piano solo and which brings McCoy Tyner’s skillful playing to the forefront. The way he plays around with the really dense and complex chord structure of the piece is pretty mindblowing. Also listen to how the drums push and pull the tempo, building excitement but backing off to let the other instruments shine when they have something to say. It’s frantic and yet completely under control. Coltrane’s solo which ends the improvisational center section of the piece is the first time that it feels like he’s really pushing hard as the sax sounds like it’s going to crack as it wails at the sky.
“Pursuance” begins with one of the greatest drum solos of all time. It begins restrained and grows more frantic as it builds for over a minute and a half. This movement is the longest on the record, and the drums feel like they’re a runaway train for almost the whole thing — Elvin Jones is hitting hard and fast here. Even as someone who has played drums for years there are things he is doing that I can’t even comprehend, let alone attempt. Easily the fastest track, every musician crackles with intensity from the first piano solo which flies over every inch of the keyboard to the second drum solo.
One remarkable thing about “Pursuance” is the fact that amidst the mad frenetic soloing, each musician seems to take a moment to quote one of the riffs from the previous two movements — just a fragment here and there, but enough to once again create a real sense of wholeness to the whole record. The track ends with a brilliant bass solo, courtesy of Jimmy Garrison, who plays completely unaccompanied for three minutes. It feels like the train has finally run out of steam and is slowly grinding to a halt as he returns us to a more meditative mood. There’s some great bits around the 9-minute mark where he alternates between a strum of a medieval sounding chord and deft soloing higher up.
“Psalm”, the transcendent finale, returns to that huge sunrise of sound that opened the record. This time however Elvin Jones is playing only timpani and cymbals while the bass strums rather than grooves. Those dense piano chords again bounce around in the background adding to the hugeness of the sound. It really feels as if Coltrane is standing inside of a thunder cloud, surrounded by thunder and lightning. But instead of being battered by it, he absorbs the massive energy and sings praises through it into the cosmos. It’s one heck of a crescendo and declaration and a sublime ending to what is arguably the greatest jazz recording of all time.
This piece is barely over a half hour and yet it packs more musicality into that time than anything I’ve ever heard. It’s a stunning masterpiece worthy of it’s acclaim and I hope that you can get even a fragment of the artistic edification that I do from it on a regular basis.
Favourite Track: “Resolution”
Least Favourite Track: Nope.
I honestly don’t know how you get the balls to cover this record in it’s entirety, but here’s a Bonus Cover Version:
2/100 — Tom Waits — Rain Dogs (1985)
Tom Waits’ Rain Dogs is (slightly tangentially) the reason I am the music fanatic that I am. I’ve shared parts of this story at other points of this list but it’s been a while so indulge me. On the occasion of my 13th birthday my big cousin Daniel (R.I.P.) gave me two of the most influential gifts I’ve ever received. Firstly there was a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. But musically, there was a mix tape (literally a cassette tape) titled Egregious Classics. The first track on that tape (which included artists such as Beck and Dave Brubeck — both of which appear elsewhere on my Top 100) was track one of Rain Dogs, “Singapore.” It began the first great bursting of my mind’s musical boundaries. A couple years later, Dan left on a backpacking trip and entrusted his entire CD collection to me. While it took the slightly more straightforward jab of Mule Variations to truly get me started on Waits, Rain Dogs was the strong left hook which completely knocked me out. I’d never heard anything like the hybrid of eastern folk music, American blues, and general theatrical madness that fills these 54 minutes.
As I mentioned, “Singapore” kicks the album off. It opens with a parrot squawk before Waits does his best pirate impression, talking of seedy harbours and the dangers or pleasures (or both) which might be discovered therein. All of this over a stomping bass line, tinkling marimbas, and Marc Ribot’s uniquely angular guitar playing which adds a deranged edge to the slightly sinister and goofy lyrics.
“Clap Hands” slows things down and opens with a jangly rhythm section that sounds like people hitting whatever is nearby in a junkyard. Rather than barking like an angry ship’s captain, now Waits oozes nonsensical couplets into the microphone:
Steam, steam a hundred bad dreams
Goin’ up to Harlem with a pistol in his jeans
A fifty dollar bill inside of Paladin’s hat
And nobody’s sure where Mr. Knickerbocker’s at
Waits is known for creating entire characters with just a line or two. “Cemetery Polka,” described by Waits as “the worst family reunion ever,” introduces a new insane family member for each verse. Take for example “Uncle Phil” who “can’t live without his pills, he has emphysema and he’s almost blind.” These characters are introduced over a weird oom-pa tuba and groaning organ, and between every couple verses a demented carnival theme erupts adding to the madness.
“Jockey Full of Bourbon” somehow combines an Ennio Morricone/ spaghetti western guitar sound with a bossa nova dance beat to wonderful effect. The chorus is a great example of what Waits does best — combining the beautiful with the slightly upsetting: “Hey little bird, fly away home/Your house is on fire, your children are alone.”
“Tango Till They’re Sore” is a drunk man telling anyone who will listen what kind of funeral he wants. The piano is appropriately sloppy and the New Orleans style trombone is a perfect counterpoint. Again Waits’ lyrics are wonderfully enigmatic, just the sort of thing my teenage mind loved to play around with.
Let me fall out of the window with confetti in my hair
Deal out Jacks or Better on a blanket by the stairs
I’ll tell you all my secrets, but I lie about my past
And send me off to bed for evermore
“Big Black Mariah” shifts genre yet again with a down and dirty blues jam while Waits growls and let’s his voice crack deliciously. Seriously, get into that sexy groove.
The first real sign that this album was produced in any particular era is “Hang Down Your Head,” a gorgeous Springsteen style ballad composed with Waits’ wife Kathleen Brennan. It may be Springsteen in style but there’s still those slightly angular guitars and wheezing organs in the background. And the drums sound too old. But the song actually feels like it takes advantage of some of those 80s production techniques Waits has avoided so far.
“Time” continues the tone shift at the end of the first side of this record. It is a wonderfully sad ballad built mostly out of two counterpointing guitars and Larry Taylor’s rich double bass tones. Waits’ voice returns to his earlier works soulful troubadour's rasp rather than any of the mad deviations he’s been exploring so far. It also has one of my favourite verses Tom has ever written:
Well, things are pretty lousy for a calendar girl
The boys just dive right off the cars
And splash into the street
And when she’s on a roll she pulls a razor
From her boot and a thousand
Pigeons fall around her feet
Side two begins with the title track, another piratey number, which seems to be a sort of meeting of a secret men’s club composed of outcasts and miscreants rather than the social elite. An inverted sort of snobbery binds these weirdos together while the guitar and marimba bounce back and forth together. This is followed by the instrumental “Midtown” — an explosion of blaring horns and pounding snare drums that would feel at home in any 70s car chase. It’s a one minute clash of instruments a la Black Saint and the Sinner Lady.
“9th and Hennepin” is one of Waits’ classic spoken word tracks over a creepy soundscape with memorable lines like, “all the donuts have names that sound like prostitutes” and, “Such a crumbling beauty, but there’s nothing wrong with her that $100 won’t fix.”
“Union Square” has one of the most hollerin Waits’ vocals ever and is a rockin’ country blues in the style of Exile on Main Street — Keith Richards is literally the guitar player on this one…and it just KICKS ASS. Richards also plays on the slow country swing of “Blind Love” (adding some backing vocals as well). Waits voice is SO good here, full of emotion and dynamism.
The grooviness returns on “Walking Spanish.” It’s a bluesy tall tale that would have fit in perfectly with Waits 70’s output if the instrumentation was a little different. There’s a killer saxophone duet for the solo here as well. “Downtown Train” by comparison is the other song rooted firmly in the 1980’s . I mean, Rod Stewart covered it for fuck’s sake! It’s got a proper riff, a straightforward arrangement, and kind of romantic lyrics. In someways it’s proof that if Waits had wanted a pop career, he maybe could have had one. All of that may sound negative to some, but the song has grown on me over time. Its longing melancholy kind of does it for me now, and regardless, it’s a nice palette cleanser.
Finally, we come to “Anywhere I Lay My Head” which to me is the best way to know who Tom Waits was during this era of his career. Mournful organ and horns swoon like a funeral hymn while Waits bellows in his most unrestrained gospel preacher voice. It’s about being in between things, but there’s a spiritual reassurance of just being, an acceptance of terrible circumstances that seems transcendent. And then, just as the music fades, a raucous can-can erupts with a dixieland band and cymbal crashes that evoke images of celebratory confetti being thrown into the air. It’s a celebration of life, no matter what your economic state is. It’s a beautiful thing.
Rain Dogs is the album I have bought more than any other. I’ve given a half dozen copies away, and have had to replace a scratched copy of my own at one time or other. Not only that, but I would guess that, as I have tried to pay forward the gift of Daniel’s playlists to others, “Anywhere I Lay My Head” has appeared on more of my mix CD’s than any other song. Oh a given day, this record could definitely give the following one a run for its money for my favourite of all time.
Favourite Tracks: “Anywhere I Lay My Head”, “Tango Till They’re Sore”, “Time”
Least Favourite Track: “Gun Street Girl”
Bonus Cover Versions:
1/100 — Bob Dylan — Blonde on Blonde (1966)
Here we are! Number one! WE MADE IT!
Bob Dylan Story #3: The only Dylan song cousin Dan ever put on one of my mix tapes was “Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues” off of the first Bootleg Series release. That’s it. Let’s get to the review.
Blonde on Blonde is the third and final installment of Dylan’s great trilogy. Having completely changed folk and rock music on the previous two records he’s got nothing to prove and somehow that means that he pushes everything ever further. The first american double LP that wasn’t a compilation, Dylan really held nothing back. He’d moved from New York to Nashville to record the record and was working with Robbie Robertson of The Band as well as some of Nashville’s greatest sidemen.
The album opens with proof that just because he was recording in conservative and traditional Nashville didn’t mean Dylan was going to play by the rules. “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35” with its instantly catchy refrain of “But I would not feel so all alone/Everybody must get stoned!” is a loose and inebriated carnival which Dylan created by making these immaculate musicians get high and switch instruments. There’s hooting and hollering and Dylan barely holds it together as he audibly cracks up a couple of times. It’s silly but really sets the nightlife mood of the record. This isn’t a record about political resistance or long idealistic road trips as much as it is about bars, rejection, the loneliness of living out of a hotel, and the sort of parties one might attend to try and find some distraction from the heaviness of isolation.
“Pledging My Time” is a slow and dirty blues groove loosely about being nervous about taking the first step towards commitment without knowing whether it will be reciprocated. Each line is interspersed with brief harmonica playing, and there’s a couple of great one liners like, “Everybody’s gone but me and you/ And I can’t be the last to leave.”
The seven and a half minute “Visions of Johanna” is the first truly mind blowing track on the record and one of my favourite Dylan songs ever. The acoustic guitar strums slowly over a slow marching beat and a heavy bass groove. Meanwhile one electric guitar hits some percussive staccato chords for texture while another endlessly embellishes the track with small licks whenever there’s a gap in the vocals. There’s also a swirling organ hovering in the background adding a real depth to the sound. As with Highway 61 Revisited, every musician knows his place but also feels the freedom to improvise variations on the structure, which results in rich sonic palettes on nearly every track. Lyrically “Visions of Johanna” leaves behind some of the stream of consciousness silliness Dylan had perfected on previous records. It is instead more of an impressionistic effort which creates an emotional weight when it is pulled off well — as it is almost always on Blonde On Blonde.
Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo, “This is what salvation must be like after awhile”
But Mona Lisa must have had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
Throughout the record Dylan’s vocal deliveries are some of his strongest ever. There’s a little less of his “HOW does it FEEL” attitude and more of a focus on creating emotion. Even on tracks like “One Of Us Must Know (Sooner Or Later)” which have more of that older emphatic attitude, it’s blended with a bitter sarcasm that cuts through. This isn’t swagger merely for effect as much as it’s the best delivery device for the frustration and anger that Dylan is trying to convey in a song about a break up that should have happened by now. It’s about two parties who are in denial about the fact that it’s over in spite of the fact that it’s never really worked. Also, the piano playing on this track along with the huge majestic drums are just wonderful.
“I Want You” is an upbeat tune filled with more of Dylan’s bizarre characters, but it hides a melancholic desperation. Meanwhile “Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again” somehow blends R&B lead guitars with a Mersey Beat (early Beatles) drum sound and tight Nashville country/blues production to create a unique sound that really sparkles. It’s even more remarkable in it’s ability to fill over seven minutes with memorable lines.
Mona tried to tell me
To stay away from the train line
She said that all the railroad men
Just drink up your blood like wine
And I said, “Oh, I didn’t know that
But then again, there’s only one I’ve met
And he just smoked my eyelids
And punched my cigarette”
“Just Like A Woman” is a surreal ballad about a slightly uncomfortable relationship with a younger woman. The arrangement is stunning tho with it’s 6/8 flow of arpeggiated piano chords and dancing Spanish-style acoustic guitars. The bridge has a great moment where Dylan breaks his established meter which adds emphasis along with his over stressed rhymes.
“Temporary Like Achilles” goes full country western with barroom pianos and lonesome harmonica solos which breaks up some of the more blues driven sounds of the record so far. The almost drunken failures to seduce a woman — mixed with anger at the rejection which does nothing to help him succeed (“Honey why are you so hard?”) — makes it feel less country and more unique. There are lots of sad country songs, but I don’t know many this venomously bitter — especially from the era this was recorded in.
“Absolutely Sweet Marie” has a great driving snare beat while the guitars solo freely around the organ’s pep-rally riffing. It also provides a good opportunity to talk about the fact that a lot of lyrics on this whole record are quite funny (showcased especially on “Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat”) even while they’re couched in deeper and more subtle emotions. I especially like this brutally cutting line from “Absolutely Sweet Marie”, “Well, anybody can be just like me, obviously/But then, now again, not too many can be like you, fortunately.”
“4th Time Around” is a sweet and lazy waltz with a double time finger picked guitar to give it some forward momentum. Something about the sound of the guitar and the dreamlike confusion of the narrator always gives me a “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)” vibe…but I think Dylan made the superior song in this case.
By contrast the penultimate track, “Obviously 5 Believers,” is an absolute barn-burner. It bounces and swaggers and has some lyrical allusions to “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35” (“Yes, I could make it without you honey
If I just did not feel so all alone.”) which book end the record somewhat. Robbie Robertson’s lead guitars are blistering as they duel with the hollering harmonica, and the drums and bass hold down a sexy R&B groove and drive everything forward. Goddamn this groove is great.
Finally, taking up the entire fourth side of the album, there is the truly epic epitome of longing, “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands.” At over 11 minutes, it takes all the brilliance of “Visions of Johanna” and simultaneously stretches and focuses it. The 6/8 slow dance clicks along in a way that means it never outstays it’s welcome while Dylan sings in a way that suggests he really can’t go on living without this “lady” in his life. On “Sara” (off Desire) Dylan confesses he was writing the song about his first wife Sara Dylan while on the road missing her. It’s a stunning tribute.
Musically the story goes that Dylan showed up in the studio with a sheaf of new lyrics and just outlined the structure of the song to the band. Then, when the song approached its second chorus of, “My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,” while also approaching the fourth minute of the song, the band figured, “Well, we must be nearly done” and swelled in anticipation of ending. But then Dylan went on. So for the third chorus nearly 5 and a half minutes in the band thought, “Surely now!” and swelled again. But on he went for another 6 minutes. Each time, the band had to swell a little bigger to avoid creating an anticlimax which adds a somber hugeness to the song. Apparently by the end of the song the band was trying really hard not to crack up and laugh as they were completely bewildered by the scope of the track but couldn’t risk interrupting Dylan’s soulful delivery.
Like Exile on Main Street much of my love for Blonde on Blonde is derived from how diverse the songs are stylistically. Each track seems creates a new synthesis of influences in surprising, but seemingly obvious, ways. What puts this record at the absolute top for me is the fact that, while drawing musically on the greatness of the past and blazing a trail forward seemingly uninhibited, Dylan also captures such a breadth of emotion. Both in his vocal performances and in his more mature impressionistic lyricism, he captures everything from a raucous party, to deep depression, to sublime longing. I think by abstracting his lyrics, Bob Dylan opens up the possibility for us to enter into his emotions and feel them powerfully. It’s a remarkable gift that he has and that he’s given us. Thank you sir.
Favourite Tracks: “Visions of Johanna” “Obviously 5 Believers” “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands”
Least Favourite Track: If I had to pick…“Rainy Day Women #12 & 35”
That’s it. 100 albums reviewed. Thanks to everyone who has read or commented on even one of these records. This was a massive project for me and I’m very proud of having finished it. There will be a couple of wrap up/reflection posts about this but for now just remember to share great music with great people. Love you all!
