#bob dylan review

[tobobby]

music review #1 - the ballad of hollis brown

rating: 10/10 song: the ballad of hollis brown album: the times they are a-changin' (1964) artist: bob dylan

just pre-dating dylan's electric era, this track is haunting and certainly a predecessor to songs like "it's alright ma (i'm only bleeding)". with its repetitive acoustic guitar chords and harrowing lyrics, this song is certainly one of my favourite dylan tracks, and i love it so much that i renamed my socials after the song.

the lyrics tell the story of a man named hollis brown who lives in a broken-down cabin & farm outside of a south dakota town. he has a wife and five children and is incredibly poor & jobless, with no one to help his family out. his family is going hungry & so they scream & cry, but still, hollis brown feels hopeless as he cannot do anything. and so, he uses the last of his money to buy shotgun shels and murders his children and wife and then himself. the song ends with the ominous lyric, "somewheres in the distance there's seven new people born".

first, i'd like to talk about the interesting lyric & rhyming pattern dylan utilises here. it's certainly unique, as it has the pattern of:

line 1 [A] line 2 [B] line 1 [A] line 2 [B] line 3 [C] line 4 [B]

it is quite repetitive, but also very impactful. another interesting aspect of the lyrics is the point of view. very few writings in general are written in second person point of view, and here, this pov is used to make the song all the more visceral. you are hollis brown; you walk the floor and wonder why with every breath you breathe; your wife screams are stabbin' you like the dirty driving rain; your eyes fix on the shotgun that you're holdin' in your hand. this certainly allows for the listener to, at the very least, make more sense of what brown's thought process it is, no matter how fucked up it is. dylan places the listener in the position of brown, and by doing this forces the listener to wonder what they would do in this situation, if they would have any other option.

this technique is certainly effective and although seemingly small is quite important in what makes this such a good song. another detail is the descriptive lyrics, setting, & similes dylan uses. there's a lot of scene-setting, such as the lines "way out in the wilderness a cold coyote calls" and "seven shots ring out like the ocean's pounding roar". it's extremely important to the listener as it helps visualise the setting of the song and understanding exactly how brown feels / what he is experiencing.

one of my favourite lyrics of the song has to be the line:

you walk the floor and wonder why with every breath you breathe.

there are SO many interpretations to this line. brown could be wondering why his life is so terrible, why he's stuck in this cycle of poverty. this could also take to mean that he's wondering why he's even alive (explained more in this genius lyric annotation), hinting at his suicidal tendencies early on in the song. or, it could be about his baby, as the line before this mentions his baby tugging at his sleeve. maybe he's curious as to what the baby wants from him, after he's tried everything he can. and again, this line (like most of the song) is written in second person, meaning you're placed in the shoes of brown, left to decide for yourself.

another one of my favourite verses is:

your brain is a-bleedin’ and your legs can’t seem to stand your eyes fix on the shotgun that you’re holdin’ in your hand

i love this lyric because it's so explicit. the bleeding - metaphorical at this point, but affecting brown physically; the shotgun in brown's hand, the final moments before he murders his family. dylan slowly hints at this moment the entire song making this climax incredibly effective. i just adore the uneasiness of it all.

finally, the last lines of the song (likely the most important, summing up the moral) is ambiguous and fascinating.

there’s seven people dead on a south dakota farm somewhere in the distance there’s seven new people born

that last line. "there's seven new people born". again, this can be taken to mean multiple things; is he referring to the fleeting nature of human existence, how easy it is to murder seven human beings and them being replaced immediately? is he referring to the cycle of poverty, that these seven new people will also be born into poverty and repeat brown's cycle? that it's easier to replace seven people than it is to keep them from dying?

many questions arise when listening to this song, and rightfully so. this song makes me think a lot, and i love it. it's an incredibly underrated track and i hope you all listen to it and love it as much as i do.

[leonardcohenofficial]

me when sitting down to write the dissertation so i can receive the degree that i have been working towards for almost six full years actually requires time and effort

[wrenb1rd]

Complete unknown criticism rant v

Obviously the trailer is out and the movie isn’t even in theatres yet although I’d like to make my point about the movie as someone who enjoys studying things and forming opinions.

First of all, I must state that none of the actors look like the people they are portraying. You could state that the actors won’t ever look like those they are acting as but I’m very sure they at least need to take some consideration for that and make sure they look somewhat similar but it took me a few minutes to realise that the woman playing Joan Baez is supposed to be Joan Baez.

Also the actor for Johnny cash looks nothing like Johnny cash, you can stick a hair do on a guy and call him a name but it won’t work out unless you put a reasonable amount of effort into it.

Now I’m not a film major or anything of the sort, I don’t even take any film related subjects so my opinion simply does not matter however there are certainly some things I believe that should have been approved.

I remember when pictures for the movie was first released and one of them was the woman who’s playing Joan walking out a building. The way it was portrayed was genuinely so odd to me, they made her look like a newcomer as if she wasn’t on the scene before Bob. I feel as though they’ve kept that in the trailer, putting her as a background character or a sort of ‘damsel in distress’ that’s head over heels for the main character. Not to say Joan didn’t have that kind of look to Bob but the way they portrayed it was almost like simplifying a very complex relationship.

Another thing I pointed out was the way they seem to villainise Pete Seeger in the folk fest scene. I mean that’s a very common thing with news papers but if you’re making a biopic that’s not even creatively written at least stay on track. From the things I’ve read Pete Seeger was not upset at Bob playing ‘rock’ music, he wanted people to hear the lyrics but found the instrumental to be too loud so he wanted to cut the cord as none of the instruments were plugged in / set up correctly, not that he disliked bob’s electric guitar.

The way they made it seem in the trailer was that he hated it and yelled ‘turn it down’ now I must admit that I am aware they did something similar in I’m not there although that is a creative movie based around Bob Dylan, not a straightforward classic biopic.

The line ‘who wrote this’ ��he did’ was genuinely so corny to me, it reminds me of all those awful biopics that are so off topic from the actual life of the person they are portraying. It literally brought me back to that Elvis parody biopic.

Overall the trailer is ok, it’s got its ups and downs, I wasn’t really even expecting woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger but yk it looks cheaply made and an excuse to add some famous names onto a movie.

As much as I may dislike it I will still be watching it simply because I am a big fan of Bob Dylan and have been for a long while but it will be very obvious as to who’s there for timothee and who’s there for bob.

Thank you for reading if you’ve got this far 🫡

+ Bob Dylan picture for the troubles

[bobdylan-n-jonimitchell]

"Dylan, Mitchell Create New Moods"

David Heller for The Vidette, Illinois State University, January 31, 1974.

[oldshowbiz]

1974.

The "almost exclusively white patrons" reacted to Bob Dylan and The Band with "surprisingly muted cheering."

[mystical-one]

awesome combo

[the-book-raven]

I’ve been following Bob Dylan since I was a kid, mesmerized by his raw voice, poetic lyrics, and the way he seemed to capture the zeitgeist of every generation. So, when Chronicles, Volume One hit the shelves, I devoured it like a starving man. And let me tell you, it was a feast.

Dylan's prose is as distinctive as his music. His stories are raw, unfiltered glimpses into the life of a legend. He paints vivid pictures of the Greenwich Village folk scene, the electric guitar revolution, and the endless road that has been his life. His voice, both in the book and in my head as I read, is that same weary, world-wise baritone that has carried us through countless songs.

What struck me most was Dylan’s honesty. There's no sugarcoating, no self-mythologizing. He’s as critical of his own work as any fan could be. This raw vulnerability is refreshing, and it makes you appreciate his genius even more. He’s not just a songwriter; he’s a poet, a philosopher, and a restless soul searching for meaning.

Chronicles is more than just a memoir; it’s a companion piece to his music. It provides context, depth, and a personal connection to songs that have been the soundtrack to my life. It’s like sitting down with the man himself and hearing him tell the stories behind the songs.

If you’re a Dylan fan, this book is essential reading. And if you’re not, it might just change your life.

[coffeejoshy]

M. Ward - A Man in the Moon, or, An Attempt at Translation

Music, theatre, canvas, the ballet or the screen; these are luxuries for so many of us. ‘Privilege’ might even be more apt given the notion that art is largely seen as ‘a thing to be enjoyed but which is not essential; a frivolity’. Ethan Hawke (of all people) recently gave my favourite articulation of why the arts are so necessary: because until you experience a feeling so incredibly deep that gives you cause to wonder, to think “has anybody else ever really felt like this?”, you have no way of knowing just how essential art can be.

“That’s when art is not a luxury, it’s actually sustenance”, he puts it.

Recently I got to see M. Ward perform his 20th anniversary tribute to his indie-folk magnum opus ‘Transfiguration of Vincent’. It’s a dark album peppered with fleeting spots of bright, written in the throes of grieving after the titular Vincent O’Brien, a friend of Ward’s, passed away. We don’t learn much of anything specific about Vincent over the course of the album, and nor should we. What we do experience over the album’s course, however, is the breadth of emotions Ward experiences in relation to his friend, and the downward spiral that accompanies those feelings as he watches Vincent’s gradual slip from the mortal coil.

Describing the album is difficult for me, because I find it difficult to ‘rate’ (a silly thing music lovers occasionally do), or ‘praise’ a work of art so subsumed in the grief of its artist and the tragedy of its subject. Talking about art in this way feels insulting at times, and never more so than for works as intimate as this. These are songs to be felt, not described.

And yet here is the paradox; I feel so strongly about this album and its artist that not evangelising it feels as impossible a task as explaining the effect it has on me.

Anyway, here we are.

On stage, Ward has a curious presence. He’s more idiosyncratic than charismatic, and instead carries himself with quiet confidence, and his guitar with a crooked left elbow. He isn’t particularly talkative, but the little he did say gave the impression of an incredibly humble man, and his husky voice and greying hair gives him this air of folksy charm that’s really quite, well, charming.

In interviews this seems to be much the case as well; in one radio interview from 2009 when asked how he would describe his then new album ‘Hold Time’ he answered (hilariously) “well, it’s my new album and some people will like it, some people won’t”. Other interviews also see him coming across as reserved and painfully shy about his creative process, not because he’s afraid of giving away trade secrets, but because he’s almost dismissive of the validity of his methods and his art. He’s wilfully determined to refrain from explanations of his art’s ‘meanings’ beyond vague outlines, as was the case for 2020’s ‘Migration Stories’, in his words a “sci-fi fast-forward to a more silent night many generations from here to a maybe-era where movement is free again”.

While much of this likely amounts to wild postulation about a man’s internal feelings, if there’s one accusation that’s easy to level at Ward, it’s that he’s an old soul. He’s cited Neil Young, Daniel Johnston, Billie Holiday, Howlin’ Wolf, and John Mahey as influences (“Transfiguration” is a reference to a Mahey album with a similar title), he records everything analogue, and even completes his demos on a Tascam four-track that he’s owned since his teenage years. Sonically his music evokes shades of Nick Drake, early Dylan, Jackson C. Frank and even Bowie at times. In today’s context, even the model of a solo singer-songwriter writing intimate analogue guitar music feels like an archetype on the brink of extinction.

Above all, Ward seems captured by the task of creating music as timeless as that of his predecessors.

The point that I suppose I’ve been dancing around in all this exposition is that M. Ward’s music has affected me very deeply.

I’ve spent so much of recent years trying to consume as much music as I can, chasing new sounds and bizarre voices to fulfil some craving of curiosity that is never truly satiated for more than a short time. In all that noise, it’s a fortunate wonder I didn’t overlook Transfiguration of Vincent and other M. Ward projects for their unassuming modes. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully explain to someone the inward-puncturing existential grief that a song like “Dead Man”makes me feel, or the utter stillness that “Real Silence” gives me.

Crucially, though, I don’t think I need to try anymore. Writing this helps, for one, but it’s music like this that gives me the kind of unfathomable joys and sorrows that our friend Ethan Hawke was referring to. It’s music like M. Ward’s that reminds me why I need music, and though it may seem fairly obvious an observation (I suppose all the best ones are), it’s the reminder that some things cannot be described; they must be felt, transfigured by poets and writers into an essence distilled for the rest of us.

[girlreviews]

Review #287: Mr. Tambourine Man, The Byrds

I was four years old when I heard The Byrd’s version of Mr. Tambourine Man on the radio and asked my Mom what it was. She knew the name but not the artist. I constantly asked to listen to Mr. Tambourine Man after that. It just cast a spell over me. It was so gorgeous! I hadn’t ever heard anything like this! Okay so I hadn’t heard a lot of stuff when I was four but I still knew when something was magical when I heard it.

But you know, it was like 1992, and you couldn’t just easily listen to whatever song you wanted whenever you wanted (my God how did I function?). So eventually, after little success of actually getting to listen to it, I gave up asking and became obsessed with some other song and largely forgot about it.

And that’s pretty much how it stayed until I was 18 or 19 and got really really into Bob Dylan. Really into Bob Dylan. Obnoxiously into Bob Dylan. My teenage brain had no room for both The Byrds and Bob Dylan to be incredible and legendary — which of course they are — so my natural inclination was to disown my earlier love of The Byrds version and forever commit myself to Bob Dylan’s original, and Bob Dylan’s original ONLY. Why? Because!!!!!!!!!

So two weeks before I leave for college, I’m having a tonsillectomy. Which isn’t ideal. But that’s what we’re doing. I’m on a ward with three old ladies. This is what I remember from this hospital stay:

One: When I was awoken from my surgery, barely conscious from anesthesia, the nurses told me I had to briefly wake up to move from the surgery bed to my ward bed. I had my eyes closed but I was responsive. They kept saying “come on girlreviews, all you have to do is stay awake long enough to move beds”. I said to them “after I move beds, can I go back to sleep?” And they said “yes, of course you can”, to which I replied “this is the happiest moment of my life”. And it was. I could sleep peacefully without any fear or disruption with nobody I knew around. I never had felt so relaxed. I think about this all the time.

Two: They woke me up every two hours to make me drink tea and eat toast, which I also had no complaints about. During one of these intervals, a man was at my bedside that had a very calm and comforting demeanor. He ran the hospital radio station and asked me if I had a song I’d like to hear. I emphatically said “Mr. Tambourine Man, but the BOB DYLAN version!”, and then I was glued to that radio station until the moment I was discharged. Can you imagine how salty I was when he played The Byrds version? It makes me laugh now, because I definitely prefer it again. My four year old self was so much wiser than my sulky teenage mind.

I actually listened to this record a few months ago and was surprised to recognize another song I knew. I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better, made known to be by Tom Petty. The thing about The Byrds is how they didn’t enjoy the same success, or, magnitude of success as some of their peers even though they’re really responsible for creating entire genres. And their influence is just, immeasurable. I hear in this record a never ending list of records that wouldn’t exist without it. Too many to name. The vocal harmonies, twiddly guitar, and gentle percussion are what captivated me when I was four years old and it’s pretty clear that I was not the only one. It feels like a life reaffirming cup of tea when you’re hungover. That second sleep. That shower where you emerge feeling like a new person and everything’s about 37% funnier. What’s better than that? Other than not being hungover to begin with. Sometimes you gotta ride the Dao, though, you know?

[sinceileftyoublog]

SILY's Top Albums of 2023

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Another year of settling into "the new normal" in the music world, for better or for worse, still brought us great records. The underground NYC hip hop scene burst with creativity. Rock and Roll Hall of Famers reinvented old songs. Stalwarts of experimental music, contemporary jazz, and modern-day blues released their career bests. Even archivists had their day. Below are 16 great albums released last year and 6 more honorable mentions no less worthy of inclusion--I just didn't have time to write about them.

Armand Hammer - We Buy Diabetic Test Strips (Fat Possum)

It's all in the title: on their sixth album, billy woods and E L U C I D navigate through a society where not only is shit that should be free, expensive, but a secondhand market encourages hustlers to make a profit. Amidst capitalist corruption and individualism, the threat of an AI takeover and close calls getting caught with drugs, both emcees face the bleakness while occasionally imagining a better world. As always, the victories are small, but mighty: good weed ("Woke Up And Asked Siri How I'm Gonna Die"), morally righteous laundromat owners ("When It Doesn't Start With A Kiss"), the freedom to bask in schadenfreude ("Niggardly (Blocked Call)"). And yes, it takes a lot for two slow lurching wordsmiths to rise above production from the likes of JPEGMAFIA, DJ Haram, and EL-P, always-inspired samples ranging from E-40 to Sun Ra and Japanese rock band Ghost, and features from Pink Siifu, Junglepussy, and Moor Mother. But they deftly connect the dots from centuries ago to now, presenting societal dysfunction as a core component of our country and world. "George Washington's heart a frozen river, boy / Opps in the backwoods, slave teeth in the mouth when he say ni**a," woods raps, as if to shock you out of complacency and make you numb to the horrors at the same time.

Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, & Shahzad Ismaily - Love In Exile (Verve)

It's hard to believe that Love In Exile, the first collaboration between singer Arooj Aftab, legendary jazz pianist Vijay Iyer, and multi-instrumentalist Shahzad Ismaily, was recorded live with minimal overdubs. Then again, it's clear there's something special brewing within the trio, who first performed together in 2018. That is, the way in which each performer enters and exits and weaves within another is as natural as it is stunning. On Love In Exile, Aftab sings in Urdu--the sound of her words mattering just as much if not more than their meaning--and Iyer plays piano and electronics, Ismaily bass and Moog. The result is an interplay between beauty and dissonance, minimalism and swells of noise, intimacy and grandiosity. Iyer's piano seems like it's increasingly sure of itself on opener "To Remain/To Return" as Aftab's smoky voice resembles a soulful, mournful reed. Ismaily's bass is slow-lurching and rounded throughout, the steady presence that only so much ripples on songs like "Eye of the Endless" as Aftab and Iyer provide contrast in timbre. Love In Exile is the type of album born out of a moment; yet, it gives seemingly endless pathways in which to get lost.

Arthur Russell - Picture of Bunny Rabbit (Audika)

Throughout Picture of Bunny Rabbit, Arthur Russell’s voice is as much of an instrument as his bowed cello, fading in and out on “Not Checking Up”, “Telling No On”, and “Very Reason”. The mysterious aura of Russell comes from both not knowing what’s out there and, on the music we do know exists, being unable to tell what he’s saying or what instruments he’s using. A rubbery whooshing pervades “The Boy With a Smile” and “In The Light of a Miracle”. The 8-minute title track sees dissonant cello disintegrating in real time, unfurling like tape over feedback squalls to the point where it sounds like a MIDI version of a guitar solo. At the same time, Russell always knew when to surface. The harmonica on “The Boy With a Smile” creates a rootsy tactility, the controlled chaos of his string playing yielding free percussion. Russell’s vocals rapidly shuffle on “In The Light of a Miracle”, though they’re as clear as ever, contrasting his sticky cello, plainly borrowing rhythms from Indian classical music.

Read the rest of our review here.

billy woods & Kenny Segal - Maps (BackwoodzStudioz)

The prolific billy woods’ second album with beat mastermind Kenny Segal is centered around touring, inspired by the idea that the road–or the lack of home–is, in itself, home. On Maps, places where people reside are as constantly changing as the landscapes that pass as you’re on the highway. It’s the perfect fodder for woods’ neuroses and pessimism, the low thoughts that occur when you have too much time on your hands but still can’t make sense of your surroundings. He’s constantly searching for stimuli–weed, food, drinks–to distract himself from the human condition. Like the titular “Houdini”, Woods escapes, even if temporarily.

Read the rest of our review of Maps here.

Bob Dylan - Shadow Kingdom (Columbia)

It wasn't just Taylor Swift rerecording their own catalog in 2023. As part of the soundtrack to Alma Har'el's 2021 film Shadow Kingdom: The Early Songs of Bob Dylan, the Bard himself gave us his new versions of old tracks, mostly his Dylan's 60s heyday, save for a new instrumental. Notably, it's his Dylan's record with a band with no drums or percussion, and it's a mystery who played on it, as there are no official credits. It's also his first album of new studio recordings since 2020 opus Rough and Rowdy Ways, so naturally, he leads off with a reflective "When I Paint My Masterpiece". In general, his arrangements are more gentle, from the swirling harmonicas and trailing strums of "Queen Jane Aproximately" to the bluesy, tempo-changing "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight". "Tombstone Blues" comes across like a spooky tale, slowed down, as opposed to the ramshackle stream of consciousness of the original, while the eerie and mournful "What Was It You Wanted" is a revelatory adaptation of the late 80's classic. And "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" shuffles along with a calypso groove, almost as if it's a tribute to the late Jimmy Buffett. He may not be doing it to regain the rights to his own songs, but on Shadow Kingdom, Dylan asserts that there's value in revisiting old friends.

Drive-By Truckers - The Complete Dirty South (New West)

The Complete Dirty South is us an opportunity to listen with 2023 ears to a 2004 album that’s truer than ever. The rich still get away with doing illegal things (“Where the Devil Don’t Stay”), increasingly intense weather patterns still devastate the poorest of communities (“Tornadoes”), and government austerity policies still force people to work longer hours, for lower pay (the incendiary “Putting People on the Moon”.) When Patterson Hood sings, “Motherfucker in the White House said a change was comin’ round / But I’m workin’ at the Walmart, Mary Alice in the ground,” it’s the much more realistic, downtrodden version of “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss,” a sharpshooting lyricist’s analysis of the devastating consequences of incrementalism, let alone inaction.

Read our preview of two Drive-By Truckers solo shows from December.

GOLD DIME - No More Blue Skies (No-Gold)

With No More Blue Skies, Andrya Ambro, the former half of No Wave-inspired Brooklyn indie rock duo Talk Normal has delivered the most distilled statement of her artistry to date. Combining her classical training and ethnomusicological studies as a drummer with the hammering intensity of her live performance, the album is a examination of contrast, an exercise in presenting ambiguous questions and smashing them to see if any answers lie within.

Read our review of GOLD DIME's career-best.

jaimie branch - Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die (​(​world war​)​) (International Anthem)

Though the late trumpeter and composer jaimie branch’s third album Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) is a final statement, it’s even more effective as an eternal one. It begins with keyboards that sound like church organs, an eerily somber sonic manifestation of irrevocability. As Chad Taylor’s rolling drums enter, branch gives us one of her trademark trumpet blares, as if to announce, “I’m here.” She wasn’t one to spend much more time announcing her presence, though–the track segues into an Afro-Latin style jam, clacking percussion and horns in line with Lester St. Louis’ nervy bowed cello. ((world war)) from then on spends most of its runtime just the way branch liked it, in a groove, with some breaks along the way to remind us of the urgency of the moment.

Read our review of Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)).

Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit - Weathervanes (Southeastern/Thirty Tigers)

Over the past few years, Jason Isbell’s had a lot of time to think. Pandemic and lockdown-induced isolation made us all spend a bit more time between our ears, and for Isbell, it was his experience on set for Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon that yielded even more alone time. These spaces in between catalyzed the creation of Weathervanes. Like Isbell’s best records, Weathervanes tackles many areas of life, from getting older and grappling with regret and depression to existing in an increasingly fraught and vulnerable world. What makes it succeed most is the extent to which he relied on his collaborators to make it, purportedly inspired by watching none other than Scorsese seek out the opinions of others while filming Flower Moon.

Read our preview of Isbell & the 400 Unit's show in Joliet last March.

JPEGMAFIA & Danny Brown - Scaring the Hoes (AWAL)

JPEGMAFIA's called SCARING THE HOES a “practice album,” made with the SP-404–no Pro Tools–after learning it for a year. It certainly has that loose quality you’d think, alongside the exact amount of chaos you’d expect from the debut full-length join-up from him and Danny Brown. Of course, Peggy finds kinship in the deep cuts and the underground, from the underappreciated Bun B to old soul and funk, Japanese pop, and gospel. The samples and production are inspired. At the same time, Peggy knows he’s your favorite Twitter follow’s favorite rapper, so the title itself, referring to something a Very Online Man would say who thinks his taste is too esoteric for women, is tongue-in-cheek. “How the fuck we supposed to make money of this shit?” Peggy asks on the title track. “You wanna be an MC? What the fuck you think, it’s 1993?” The only thing better than effortless tempo changes, switches on a dime from maximalism to dreamy instrumentation, is self-awareness of his own idiosyncrasies. Bonus points for “God Loves You”, which juxtaposes a guttural, spirited gospel sample with the filthiest lyrics on the album.

Read our preview of Pitchfork Music Festival 2023, containing JPEGMAFIA, here.

Matana Roberts - Coin Coin Chapter Five: In The Garden... (Constellation)

On the 5th of their 12 planned Coin Coin albums, saxophone master Matana Roberts tells the story of an ancestor who died after complications from a self-inflicted abortion. Though it's a tragic story, Roberts reclaims the narrative and casts it as part of a wider tale of institutional racism, sexism, and classism. Songs with spoken word are interspersed throughout instrumental expressions of sounds as tangible as tin whistle and as abstract as synth, structures at times free and at times delving even into rock, let alone jazz bops. Each detail of story included is clearly intentional, meant to paint a picture of Roberts' ancestor while portraying their story as not unique. Roberts' spoken word--closer to voice acting, even--is incredible, as they repeat in varying levels of genuineness, "Well, they didn't know I was electric, alive, spirited, fired and free / My spirit overshadowing, my dreams to bombastic / My eyes too sparkling, my laughter too true." Their saxophone is expressive, yet mournful, providing motifs of lamentation and hope at once. On the penultimate "for they do not know", Roberts layers and repeats the album's main refrain, "My name is your name, our name is their name / We are named / We remember, they forget," as if to emphasize the prevalence of their ancestor's story throughout history. And closer "...ain't i...your mystery is our history" juxtaposes Western and African traditions, pointedly demonstrating that the evils brought upon their ancestor are rooted in colonialism and Western hegemony rather than a standalone calamity.

Robert Finley - Black Bayou (Easy Eye Sound)

Seven years into his improbable comeback, Robert Finley views his role as a singer and entertainer as twofold: meeting the audience at the heart while simultaneously giving them advice, telling them the barebones truth when other authority figures won’t. On Black Bayou, he reckons with ideas of homesickness and loneliness, lust and love, selflessness and salvation. Buoyed by longtime collaborator Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys, Finley wrote all of the songs in the studio, and his familiarity with his supporting cast of musicians resulted in songs that were both efficiently recorded and emotionally acute. Kenny Brown’s guitar winces with longing on “Livin’ Out A Suitcase” as Finley’s tired of traveling. On “Waste Of Time”, a song that sees Finley taking pride in rural living even if it means missing out on opportunities provided by cities, the buzz-saw guitars and Jeffrey Clemens’ clattering percussion yield a perfect maximalism to go along with Finley’s claims that, yes, there’s still a lot to digest right outside your doorstep.

Read our interview with Finley about Black Bayou here.

Sunny War - Anarchist Gospel (New West)

Sunny War battles self-destruction throughout Anarchist Gospel; in the lead-up to its release, she spoke about her music representing a battle between that side of herself and the one trying to make things better. On “New Day”, she uses the language of addiction to wax on love, hurt, and obsession: “Believing in magic can be tragic / I’m love’s junkie, I’m love’s addict.” One of the record’s true standouts is “I Got No Fight”, where pained guitars and screaming organs exemplify Sunny’s desire for the days to end, depression that buzzes like a fly in her ear. On the gorgeous country tune “His Love”, she sings of an unhealthy relationship, “His love fades, my love grows,” and the timbres of her voice and the instruments similarly diverge, her lurking deep vocal register contrasting the spryness of the backing vocals, guitars, and pattering drums.

Read our review of Anarchist Gospel.

Various Artists - Tell Everybody! (21st Century Juke Joint Blues From Easy Eye Sound) (Easy Eye Sound)

For the better part of the past decade, Dan Auerbach's Easy Eye Sound recording studio and record label has showcased some of the best in contemporary blues music, from various regions across the country and spanning sub-genres. Tell Everybody!, the label's latest compilation, makes the case that a current crop of songwriters, vocalists, and instrumentalists are making essential wartime-style juke joint blues numbers. It's comprised of alternate versions of songs from past Easy Eye Sound albums (Jimmy "Duck" Holmes' version of "Catfish Blues", Leo Bud Welch's glistening "Don't Let the Devil Ride"), posthumously released offerings from idiosyncratic legends like James Gang/Pacific Gas & Electric/All Saved Freak Band guitarist Glenn Schwartz, and strong statements from up and comers like Detroit Dobro-drummer duo Moonrisers, Chicago's Gabe Carter, and Kentucky picker Nat Myers. Auerbach even finds room for new songs from himself and The Black Keys, who sound better than they have in years by embracing the drippy psychedelia of their early material on "No Lovin'". And performing the title track (and baring teeth on the cover) is Robert Finley, whose daughter Christy Johnson delivers smooth gospel backing vocals to contrast Auerbach and Kenny Brown's searing guitars, the multi-generational sound of past, present, and future.

Wednesday - Rat Saw God (Dead Oceans)

“Hot Rotten Grass Smell”, the opening track to Wednesday's incredible Rat Saw God, immediately juxtaposes country guitars with shoegaze squall. Songwriter/vocalist/guitarist Karly Hartzman references Smog’s “The Well” before turning inward to a bleak vision: “Your closet froze after you left / Except the people who took your shirts / Closed off your door with yellow tape / Saw myself dead at the end of a staircase.” The song ends with a sudden cut to field recordings of peepers. Heartbreak, anxiety, life, death, both the natural environment and the concrete depression of the South. It’s all there for Hartzman’s poetry, and no moment is too small or too ordinary for worship.

Read our review of Rat Saw God.

Willie Nelson - I Don't Know A Thing About Love: The Songs of Harlan Howard (Legacy)

Part of me thinks living legend Willie Nelson would rather continue paying tribute to his forebears than do anything else. The late Harlan Howard essentially gave Nelson his first break after hearing some original tunes, signing him to the Pamper publishing imprint in the early 60's. Of course, last year, Nelson would go on to celebrate a 90th birthday and be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, while Howard, who passed away in 2002, is still mostly known behind the scenes, writing songs that would become immortalized by Buck Owens, Waylon Jennings, Ray Charles, and Brenda Lee. So leave it to Nelson to present Howard's best songs, with minimal arrangements, to emphasize the brilliance of his songwriting, the devastating simplicity of lines like "I'm about as helpless as a leaf in a gale." Nelson leads a stellar backing band through blues stomps ("Excuse Me (I Think I've Got A Heartache)", a screaming version of "Busted") and plaintive and empathetic waltzes ("Life Turned Her That Way"), exemplifying a three chords and the truth philosophy appropriate for all moods and experiences.

Honorable Mentions:

Bob Dylan - The Bootleg Series, Vol. 17: Fragments - Time Out Of Mind Sessions 1996-1997 (Columbia/Legacy)

The Clientele - I Am Not There Anymore (Merge)

Daniel Bachman - When The Roses Come Again (Three Lobed)

Danny Brown - Quaranta (Warp)

Gazelle Twin - Black Dog (Invada)

Lonnie Holley - Oh Me Oh My (Jagjaguwar)

[chantherouxarts]

[tobobby]

music review #2 - blowin' in the wind

rating: 10/10 song: blowin' in the wind album: the freewheelin' bob dylan (1963) artist: bob dylan

Originally published in the late May 1962 publication of Broadside Magazine, it is considered one of Dylan’s best compositions in his over 60-year career. Its iconic introductory line, “How many roads must a man walk down / Before you call him a man?”, has been sung by countless artists such as Stevie Wonder, Neil Young, and Mary Travers. This line can be interpreted in many different ways and contexts, but one way it can be interpreted is simply, how many experiences and how much life should a man have lived before he is considered an “adult”? Before he has the privileges that men have in our society? This can also be linked back to the Civil Rights Movement and how people of color, specifically Black people were not considered human and still are dehumanized to this day. The fact the tune is based off of an old slave protest song called “No More Auction Block for Me” emphasizes this idea even more. The next line I’d like to focus on is “Yes, and how many years can some people exist / Before they’re allowed to be free?”. Again, Dylan tackles slavery, and calls for the freedom of all oppressed individuals and groups. Dylan is clearly tired of white Americans and Europeans “deciding” when certain peoples are “allowed” to be free, and instead wishes that people who have existed for so long should finally just exist without prejudice. The next line of the song is also significant here; Dylan sings, “Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head / And pretend that he just doesn’t see?” -- and just a few lines later -- “Yes, and how many ears must one man have / Before he can hear people cry? [See Joan Baez’s “To Bobby”] / Yes, and how many deaths will it take ‘till he knows / That too many people have died?”. Here, he is actively calling out those who choose to ignore the oppressions that plague society. Within the context, it was likely written about the Vietnam war as Dylan was outwardly and adamantly anti-war in the early '60s, but can be interpreted to just about any atrocity in history. And finally, the refrain of the song; “The answer is blowin’ in the wind”. Dylan has said in reference to this song that people who choose to ignore the wars are the biggest criminals, and I believe here, he is saying that the answer is obvious, yet so many people actively ignore it. Obviously, from the very second one hears human suffering, their response should be to help, but so many stay neutral and act like they don’t have basic human decency or common sense. Neutrality is one of the biggest crimes in the eyes of 21-year-old Bob Dylan.

[mywifeleftme]

221: Traveling Wilburys // Vol. 1

Vol. 1 Traveling Wilburys 1988. Wilbury

To a certain type of rock purist In the late ‘70s and ‘80s, Jeff Lynne was basically the Antichrist, a Muppet Paul McCartney who did Macca one worse by not only making his own gormless megapop spoo but also producing records for his legendary friends and making them suck too. He’s been mostly forgiven by now I think, and I certainly can’t find that level of umbrage in myself. The best of Lynne’s singles with the Move and Electric Light Orchestra are as good as power pop gets, and if the albums around those singles are mostly grating trash, let’s dwell on the singles. It would’ve been cool if commercial wilderness years George Harrison had put out a folky, acoustic record that delved more deeply into his psyche, but he teamed up with Lynne instead and we got “Got My Mind Set on You”; it would’ve been intriguing if somebody had taken Roy Orbison back to Sun Studios, or even Tom Petty for that matter, but we ended up with “Anything You Want” and “Free Fallin’” and “The Comedians” and “Runnin’ Down a Dream” and that’s fine! Great even.

All that’s preamble to talking about the Traveling Wilburys, a not-terribly-serious gathering of four of the more significant artists of the rock era and Jeff Lynne, the latter of whom emerges as the dominant creative force by producing these affably tossed-off tunes like it’s an ELO reunion. Some people were Very Mad that the prospect of, like, Bob Dylan writing for Orbison or Petty for Harrison ended up sounding like a jukebox the size of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer entering near-Earth orbit. Personally though, I pretty much wore out this cassette driving around with my mom when I was a kid, and I’ve got real love for just about all of these songs. These personalities were too big for anything approaching a Serious Artistic Statement to get off the ground anyway, and I’d argue that a Basement Types-like presentation would only reveal how threadbare some of the material is. Instead, we get Lynne’s fantasia of the ‘50s rock Orbison helped invent and the others grew up on, the common thread that allowed him to get the signoff from a group of very opinionated Dudes.

Take “Margarita,” a slip of a thing composed of a lazy Dylan verse, some of Lynne’s Sha Na Na doggerel, and a couplet from Petty (“She wrote a long letter / On a short piece of paper”; one of my favourite lyrics actually) that can’t even keep to a consistent grammatical person. Lynne’s production turns it into a spangled fantasia, replete with burbling synth pop intro, Spectoresque armies of backing vox, braying sax, multimillion-dollar acoustic guitars, and a shuffle beat. Even on the songs Lynne trifles with less, like Dylan’s hysterical crime novel in verse “Tweeter and the Monkey Man,” he wants every part to lunge at the listener: has anybody ever gotten a tougher sound on an acoustic slide guitar than the little lick that serves as the song’s chorus?

Many albums would be greatly impoverished by having Jeff Lynne behind the boards, but not this one. Even when all five Wilburys were alive, they had the vibe of one of those “The Best Band in Heaven” memes people share whenever an icon croaks. And on “Handle Me with Care,” “The End of the Line,” “Not Alone Anymore,” and most everything else here, that’s exactly what they sound like.

221/365

[rabbitechoes]

wanted to post more over here and had the idea to do lil reviews for albums from years past. i'm gonna try to post a review for this series, as the name suggests, every thursday!! this week we're looking at a long overdue return to form for one of the greatest songwriters of all time: Oh Mercy by Bob Dylan!!! also feel free to follow me on rate your music and twitter <3

Oh Mercy - Bob Dylan

◇ release year: 1989 ◇ genres: singer-songwriter, pop rock, folk rock

The 80s were not kind to Bob Dylan at all, neither were the late 70s for that matter. There was a massive dip in quality after the relative comeback albums that were 1975’s Blood on the Tracks and 1976’s Desire. Following divorce proceedings with his wife in 1977, Dylan shifted his sound away from folk and into a more pop-rock direction for Street-Legal, one of his most uneventful records. Leading into the 80s, he had a born-again Christian phase and released a trilogy of terrible faith-based albums. His 1983 album Infidels was his return back to secular music, but it’s also not very great in the grand scheme of his catalog besides the opener “Jokerman.” Empire Burlesque, Knocked Out Loaded, and Down in the Groove were also some of his worst records and borderline embarrassing for an artist of his caliber. There are very few bright spots in that run aside from “Brownsville Girl” off of Knocked Out Loaded, but to get to that you gotta sit through his version of Kris Kristofferson’s “They Killed Him” which is one of the worst songs I’ve ever heard. Things were looking pretty bad for the once-iconic artist. His music was either terrible, boring, a parody of his best work, or all three in one. The deck was stacked against him, but in 1988 something special would happen. Bono would introduce Dylan to producer Daniel Lanois known for his work with Brian Eno, U2, and longtime Dylan collaborator Robbie Robertson. Dylan seemed determined to finally make a good album again and Lanois’ production work was exactly what he needed to refresh his sound.

Bob Dylan, 1989

You can hear that right away in the opener “Political World.” Despite it being one of Dylan’s clunkier songs from a lyrical perspective, that instrumentation is just perfect for him. That warm, jaunty sound provided by Dylan and a backing band consisting of various musicians from New Orleans. Many of which Lanois was working with at the time. These musicians match the anxious and chaotic themes of the song perfectly. Dylan sings about it being a hostile, political world and even touches on themes of spirituality in two lines towards the end. In those two lines alone, he provides a more interesting perspective on religion than he ever did on his spiritual albums. In the grand scheme of things, “Political World” doesn’t rank among the best Dylan songs, but it’s such a massive breath of fresh air from what he had been doing at the time. The next track cools things down with the waltzy, schmaltzy cut “Where Teardrops Fall.” Again, this isn’t a classic Dylan masterpiece, but it just sounds so good. Massive shoutout to John Hart’s saxophone on the outro. “Everything is Broken” kind of harkens back lyrically and musically to something Dylan might’ve written in decades past, but it’s given this fresh new coat of paint thanks to Lanois’ production. I love Brian Stoltz’s guitar work here. It’s never in your face, but it’s always present underneath everything. It creates this really cool dynamic with the rhythm section. The next track “Ring Them Bells” is one of the many times here where Dylan slows things down. This is where the album is at its best. The warm production not only brings out the best in the instrumentation but also in Dylan’s voice. This is the first album where he sounds like the weathered, legendary songwriter he was. The arrangement is sparse, with only guitar and keyboards accompanying Dylan’s voice and piano. It’s one of my favorite-sounding Dylan songs. As is the next track, “Man In the Long Black Coat.” What a triumph this song is. It’s simultaneously amazing and infuriating. He still had it in him to write an incredible, compelling song. Like the last track, the sound here is pretty sparse besides some ambiance setting keyboards from Malcolm Burn and Dylan’s guitar. His voice is in a lower register and it makes you just hang on to his every word. It helps that the melody is so memorable also. The song ends on such a mysterious note and it’s the most engaging he had sounded since Desire. 

“Most of the Time” builds upon that more weathered sound except this time with more layers to it instrumentally. This is another one of my favorite Dylan songs. It’s a heartbreak ballad that has such a simple structure and premise, but it’s so impactful. I love the way the electric guitar washes over the track. Every time it enters, it lingers for the perfect amount of time. It’s mixed so perfectly. “What Good Am I?” and “Disease of Conceit” are lulls in the tracklist, but they’re not bad. They just lack that energy of the three tracks prior. The latter is another clunky writing moment from Dylan on the record. His best moments on here lyrically are the songs about love, heartbreak, and other more personal topics. He’s made some iconic songs built around his ruminations on the world, but none of them are found here. Fortunately, the last two tracks are a step up. “What Was It You Wanted” might have the most tasteful implementation of a harmonica on any Bob Dylan record. I love Dylan’s usually harsh harmonica, but it’s hard to deny it can get a bit much. The music here is very subtle and it accompanies what seems to be Dylan’s meditations on his art up to that point. Perhaps the years of critical failures catching up to him as he asks the public “what was it you wanted?” If I was a fan of his during this time, the answer would be songs like this! “Shooting Star” is another ballad and another favorite of mine. Some have interpreted this song as being about Dylan’s disillusionment with spirituality and I think that’s an interesting read, but it could also just be a simple bittersweet ballad about love. Either way, this is a strong closer to the album.

Bob Dylan, 1988

Oh Mercy was an incredible return to form for Dylan and Lanois’ production brought out the best in these songs. It sounded like Dylan was writing with a purpose again, he was inspired. While overall this isn’t his strongest crop of songs from a lyrical standpoint, the execution here takes these songs to the next level. Ideally, this would be the start of a career renaissance for the legendary singer-songwriter, but seeing as how his next album would be the dreadful Under the Red Sky that wasn’t the case. Thankfully, Lanois would collaborate with Dylan again 8 years later for Time Out of Mind, yet another one of his comeback albums.

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[tcplnyteens]

No Direction Home (Martin Scorsese, 2005)

No Direction Home is a 2005 documentary directed by Martin Scorsese. The film provides an in-depth and intimate portrait of Bob Dylan, the legendary singer-songwriter whose career has spanned several decades and influenced countless artists. The film focuses primarily on Dylan's early years, from his upbringing in a small Minnesota town to his emergence as a folk music sensation in the early 1960s. Through a combination of rare archival footage, interviews, and performances, "No Direction Home" offers a comprehensive look at Dylan's evolution as an artist during this pivotal period in American history. The documentary delves into Dylan's rise to prominence in the Greenwich Village folk scene, where he gained recognition for his poetic and socially conscious songwriting. It explores his relationships with fellow musicians, including Joan Baez, and his transition from acoustic folk music to electric rock, a move that sparked controversy and divided his fan base. The film also delves into the broader cultural and political context of the 1960s, showcasing how Dylan's music became an anthem for social change and the civil rights movement. The film includes insightful interviews with Dylan himself, as well as commentary from fellow musicians, friends, and cultural historians, providing a multi-faceted perspective on his life and work. No Direction Home is a nuanced and illuminating documentary that not only celebrates the career of one of the most influential musicians of the 20th century but also explores the broader cultural and artistic landscape of the era. It's a must-watch for Dylan enthusiasts and anyone interested in the intersection of music, culture, and social change during a transformative period in American history. The film is accessible to all ages.

-Ezra