Bob Dylan

(Translated from my original Italian text by Ornella C. Grannis)

Very few musician have influenced the music and the culture of their times as Bob Dylan has.

Dylan was at least two things for his generation: the freewheeling folk singer - the one who stirred the masses by pointing an accusatory finger at the "masters of war", and the musician who made folk-rock a baroque art. But Dylan wasn't just that. Most of all Dylan is a myth, perhaps the only true myth rock history has ever had. His music is legendary. At least it was, from the the first political hymns until the religious conversion.

Dylan's major influences were the Bible, the legends of the frontier and epic poets like Walt Whitman. Dylan's is truly an American myth, devoid of Homer, Dante or Shakespeare; his intellectual instruments are those of the pioneers, of the trailblazers, of the colonists. Dylan is heir to the preachers and the proselytizers of the prairies, not to the dramatic actors of London's stages. Dylan competes against the prophets of ancient Palestine and the vagrants of the Old West. Like them, he was mythological; his music was mythological, the music of a man enlightened by God to guide his people onto the righteous path.

The key to the interpretation of Dylan's work is religion. From the beginning, from the very first "talking blues", Dylan's music has always had a religious essence. Dylan was a bursting visionary who addressed the times in apocalyptic terms, who commented as a universal judge would, who threw mournful condemnations against the forces of evil ("the masters of war) and who raised gentle tributes to his guardian angels ("sad-eyed lady of the lowlands"). The ethical and political perspectives of his times were natural offsprings of the heroic Neo-Christianity of which he was the prophet, the inflexible repository of the truth, and the enforcer of the commandments. Dylan's litanies, whether sung in underground cafes or at impressive rallies, replaced Holy Mass. His message became the new liturgy for a secular society that longed for religious relevance.

Bob Dylan was the genial creation of Robert Zimmerman, a Jewish young man who grew up in the Midwest, the rural heart of the United States (Duluth, Minnesota), far away from the metropolises of the East and West. Bob Dylan (as he renamed himself) moved to New York at the end of 1960 to pay a personal visit to the dying Woody Guthrie, and also to be part of the Greenwich Village circle.

The recording houses at the time were searching for new talents to fill the void left by Woody Guthrie. Since all aspiring folk singers were converging to the Village, most talent scouts would also be there. It was one of them, John Hammond, who discovered Dylan.

He was different, for a lot of reasons, not all of them obvious. Dylan had an unpleasant voice and a caustic, arrogant demeanor. His common format was a rattling litany of a sort, later defined as "talking blues", by which he put to music the alienation and the desperation of a generation. It didn't take long to figure that Dylan was better at blues than folk; what took time was the realization that blues was better suited to express the mood of his young white audience. His nasal baritone was the emblem, perhaps unconscious, of honesty and fairness.

Dylan wrote unusually refined lyrics. He was more of a surrealistic poet than a folk singer; his lyrics built literary bridges between metaphysical visions and the ferocious sociopolitical reality, to express the yearning and the anguish of his generation. In order to fashion a new oratory format Dylan took his inspiration from two old historical models - Whitman and the Bible - and molded them into an elaborate vernacular enjoyable for all.

Dylan's first great discovery was that he could sing the blues and be better at it than folk if he kept it white, glacial, diametrically opposed to the scorching, suffered blues of the blacks; his second great discovery was that poetry worked better than rhetoric.

Every folk singer's a hero when he stands against the Establishment, but Dylan's talking blues and literary talent gave him a whole different aura. He reached deeper than anyone ever did into the souls of the young protesters.

Picnic Massacre Blues and Talking John Birch Paranoid Blues (1962), the most important pieces of Bob Dylan (CBS, 1962), combined the talking blues and the literary talent in a still awkward way, but Freewheeling (CBS, 1963) had the right balance: it conveyed his charisma and established Dylan as the prophet of his generation and the leader of the pacifist protest. The seed of Blowin' In The Wind, which marked Dylan's debut in April 1962 (the song was published in may and recorded in july, although it was released on record only in 1963), had taken hold. Blowin' In The Wind was to become the prototype all songs of protest, the quintessential hymn of a pacifist America, a martial ode against the folly of war (the version by Peter, Paul & Mary became a hit in 1963).

At the 1963 Newport Festival, in front of thousands of activists, the most respected voice of protest sang first We Shall Overcome and then Blowin' In The Wind. The other two masterpieces about peace are the angry and inflexible condemnation Masters Of War, and the sarcastic invective I Shall Be Free.

A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall (written in the summer of 1962), an imaginary journey through the horrors and the ruins of an "atomic" world inspired by the poetry of William Blake, launches the visionary blues-narrative format, from which Dylan would create stunning masterpieces. In this form of symbolic poetry, the prophetic apocalyptic tone, mediated by the epic language of Walt Whitman and the symbolic language of Allen Ginsberg, finds its place.

Dylan had debuted Blowin' in the Wind and A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall at a Carnegie Hall hootenanny in 1962.

Dylan's world, however, was not just a world of sociopolitical conflicts. Dylan revealed himself as a polished author of love ballads with the sarcastic Don't Think Twice, sung in colloquial style, and with Girl >From The North Country, sung in visionary tones, by which the traditional profile of the lover reaches Dantesque idealizations. Dylan's political commentaries about Vietnam or racism were as fascinating as the war bulletins must have been for the revolutionaries: brief, simple, illicit, revealing truths to guard from the enemy, and thus precious. Dylan spoke in the first person for an entire generation, and on behalf of that generation he had the courage and audacity to stand up against the system. Freewheeling launched the revival of folk.

The Times They Are A-Changin' (CBS, 1963), took advantage of the cultural transition, of the times that were indeed changing. The album is chock full of songs of protest, from the spectral The Times They Are A-Changin', to the assertive With God On Our Side; from the desolate The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll, to the visionary sermon When The Ship Comes In. The romantic side of Dylan indulges in autobiographical tones with North Country Blues and with the serenade Boots Of Spanish Leather.
This album is not as good as the preceding one because it's more political than musical (Dylan's intent, perhaps, was to give to the crowd more of what they seemed to appreciate best). The politics of the country presented ideological ambiguities: America had preserved the spirit of the frontier, was still a nation of farmers, was full of rough tragedies and pathetic stories, its pacifism came out more as a reprimand than as a genuine need to change. Dylan's America was neither capitalist nor imperialist, but a was a big, decent country that some bad politicians wanted to corrupt. And Dylan himself was not a marginalized hipster, but a stern oracle at the service of salvation. His was no longer the voice of the angry working class, but that of an upper middle class with strong moral principles completely immersed in the American way of life. As chronicles his songs are not to be taken seriously. As sermons they're impeccable.

Ever careful not to annoy his public, Dylan recorded Another Side (1964), an album that left behind the "talking blues" and the apocalyptic bend in favor of a romantic, almost ironic mood. The tragic detachment of the beginning is transformed into emotional participation. Dylan sets aside the image of the accusatory folk singer to become the most talented songwriter of his time. Love songs dominate the album: Spanish Harlem Incident, All I Really Want To Do, To Ramona, It Ain't Me Babe. A nostalgic ballad such as My Back Pages, two long evocations of a conservative and provincial America, the sarcastic Motorpsycho Nightmare and the tragic Ballad In Plain D, explore Dylan's private sphere, albeit in the usual mythological tones. Even the prophetic vision Chimes Of Freedom has a more personal resonance than the songs of protest of the first period. Although the instrumentation is still stark, with Dylan at the guitar and the harmonica, this album is a breath of fresh air compared to the old folk of the early days and the rugged format of the protest songs.

The great musical event of 1965 was the British Invasion headed by the Beatles, who had received ovations during their American tour and now dominated the best-seller lists of pop music. With great determination Dylan embraced the electric guitar, convinced by now that it was the winning horse, and with it dared show up at the Newport Festival (July 26, 1965) with a blues-rock band (headed by Paul Butterfield). Dylan's new sound - a fusion of folk, blues and rock - was created by adding drums and electric guitar. His new material and the complete removal of folk music's harmonic taboos opened up a new perspective and unlimited horizons. (The story that he was booed at the Newport Festival is overrated: the crowd booed the organizers for allowing Dylan too little time and maybe they booed the horrible sound system).
Dylan was criticized by his audience when he embraced electric instruments, because in those years (after the scientific elimination of the rebel rockers of the 1950s) an electric guitar was an emblem of commercial music. However, Dylan was again a genius in reinventing the electric guitar as an instrument for alternative music, the same it had been before the Beach Boys and the Beatles had "trivialized" it with their charts-oriented melodies.

The effects were immediately felt in Bringing It All Back Home (CBS, March 1965), an album that, although still transitional, seemed to have come from another planet. This new episode in the surrealistic saga of America is modernized with Subterranean Homesick Blues and Maggie`s Farm. The original talking-blues assumes scoundrel-like tones in Bob Dylan's 115th Dream. The superb love meditations Love Minus Zero and It's All Over Now Baby Blue are stuffed with literary folly and have nothing to do with the conventional love song. These social meditations gain in poetry and confession what they lose in aggressiveness and denunciation. Gates Of Eden and It's Alright Ma (with some of his best lyrics) are faithful portraits of the young idealist torn between personal dissatisfaction and the need to change the world. Of all, the most influential piece shall remain Mr. Tambourine Man, the first ode to drugs, the first psychedelic proclamation.

Existentialism and symbolism pervade every piece with a melancholic touch or an injection of sarcasm. Social and love themes are fused in a unique nursery rhyme format that speaks of life. The essence is transformed from political to cosmic. Dylan's constant renewal swept away fans an colleagues alike. Nobody was as imitated and no songs were interpreted as much as Dylan and his music were. Dylan dominated the media with his autoglorifications and his image as spokesman of a generation.

Dylan made obsolete half of the music business. After the success of Mr. Tambourine Man, arranged with bass and drums by The Byrds, and in consideration of what The Animals had been able to do with House Of The Rising Son (on Dylan's first album), Dylan broke all reserves and amplified even more the sound of Highway 61 Revisited (CBS, August 1965), finding room for keyboards as well. The album was recorded by an electric combo in a chaotic atmosphere. Deafening folk purists, Dylan assaulted and left behind the minstrels of his generation with a sound rich and incisive. The talking-blues had been replaced by long blues-rock jams such as Tombstone Blues and Highway 61, chronicles of surreal parables, but in a much more aggressive tone. Lyrically, these parables tend to become incoherent "divine comedies" of mythological characters: Tombstone Blues packs Paul Revere's horse, the ghost of Belle Starr, Jack the Ripper, the prophet John the Baptist, the scientist Galileo Galilei, the Biblical temptresses Delilah, the filmmaker Cecil DeMille, the blues singer Ma Rainey and the classical composer Ludwig van Beethoven in one song. The love song (It Takes A Lot To Laugh) and the social song (Ballad Of A Thin Man) surpassed each other in a competition of arrangements that marked the beginning of a new genre: folk-rock.

The official birth certificate of folk-rock is Like A Rolling Stone, a six-minute ballad and the portrait of a failed girl, consecrated the cultural revolution and broke the ten-year-old standstill in the language of rock and roll. Accompanying Dylan were Al Kooper, Robbie Robertson and Mike Bloomfield. Ironically, Kooper's organ makes the piece: Kooper had been invited as a guitarist, but switched to the Hammond organ when he realized that Bloomfield was a better guitarist. Producer Tom Wilson architected the song and thereby virtually invented folk-rock.

The masterpiece of the album, one of the masterpieces of the year, however, is Desolation Row, the extreme stylization of the talking-blues, structured by Dylan sort of like Dante's Inferno: The overcrowded alley of desolation houses a tragicomic humanity that mirrors centuries of history, past and present, glorious and servile, real and imaginary, from Cain to Cinderella, from the Hunchback of Notre Dame to the Phantom of the Opera, from Einstein to Eliot, from Romeo to Casanova; apocryphal gospel, disquieting revelation of the true facade of human civilization, heretic bestiary of twisted myths, Desolation Row is the metaphysical kingdom where the inhabitants are forced to forever repeat their myth in an extremely degraded form (Einstein, once a famous fiddler is now a peddler). The social protest has culminated in a resentment toward the entire civilization, devoid of history. The structure of the rock poem moves forward dramatically and sardonically to replace the folk ballad, while words and music find a suggestive equilibrium. Musically, the piece employs the structure of an Indian mantra, which revives continually when it seems to have ended.

Triumphant above all is Dylan's voice, the audience's heaven and hell from the very start. His nasal tone, at times unable to carry the tune, is the incarnation of ambiguity, the double face of a poetry always swinging between profound lyricism and burlesque cynicism, always able to confuse the literary meaning of a grunt with the crying of a baby and to confer to it one hundred emotional reflexes. The elasticity of Dylan's phrasing - impoverished and solemn at the same time, articulates the mood of a generation of idealists forever squeezed between the dichotomies faith/desperation and triumph/desolation. Dylan's influence from this point forward will be devastating: no song, musical arrangement or text will ever be the same. His bohemian cynical humor will give inflection to decades of rock music.

There was a proliferation of Dylan's songs sung by others. People seemed to prefer The Byrds and The Turtles to him. Dylan has a voice that doesn't seem the least interested in following the melody. The difference is that Dylan doesn't sing his songs, he lives them. The others sound better because they only sing them.

Dylan, already ahead of most rockers, took another prodigious step forward with the double album Blonde On Blonde (CBS, May 1966), recorded in Nashville between october 1965 and march 1966, a milestone of the twentieth century, one of the greatest cultural divides of the times. This album closed an era and began another. After Blonde On Blonde rock music would not longer be an underground phenomenon or a commercial enterprise, it would be an art form. With Blonde On Blonde begins the process of quality control that would transform every record into a work of art. With Blonde On Blonde rock rivals jazz among the great musical conquests of the twentieth century. This album neatly separates the amateurish diletantism from knowledgeable and conscious art, as the Middle Ages separate from the Renaissance. On one side it completes the assimilation of British rock by folk music, on the other it personalizes the blues and folk, redressing both with marvelous esthetics saturated by creative arrangements of psychedelic derivation. Above all, Dylan reprises the experiment begun with Desolation Row in lengthy pieces that do not seem to end, that are continuously reborn.
The band acquired a determining role: Dylan employed musicians of the caliber of Al Kooper (gospel organ) and Robbie Robertson (country guitar) to give maximum emphasis to the accompanying background. The text, devoid of rhetoric, unfolds into longing, desperate, tender, melancholic love stories that raise to metaphysical idealizations of the woman loved.
The colorful, emphatic, engaging sonic jubilations of I Want You, Absolutely Sweet Marie, Just Like A Woman, One Of Us Must Know, are masterpieces of a more "courteous" genre, cadenced melodies bristling with troubled emotions, T. S. Eliot-like portraits of psychological symbolic female characters that produce a sumptuous wave of emotions as soon as they are caressed by the words of the poet. Richly colored by organ, harmonica and guitar and gently pushed by brilliant rhythms, the phrasing flies in engaging suggestions. The long ramblings of surreal irony are sweetened by raving reflections (the goliardic drinking bash of Rainy Day Women); and the blues of desolation renews itself serenely in Memphis Blues Again, a breath taking parade of senators, Shakespeare and common people, another structurally repetitive "dream" that cycles and recycles itself by twisting along the spiral of a rich and articulate sound.

Deeper in the metaphysical labyrinth of Bob Dylan are two long and visionary masterpieces, Visions Of Johanna, with its majestic stately walk, and Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands, a long, solemn, moving hymn to beauty. It is Sad Eyed Lady, a stunning lullaby for lovers, that breaks free from the abysmal constraints of the mind, that visits luminous mirages in supernatural valleys, that winds along tinkling eddies to form impalpable puffs of eternity. It is the last stage of a symbolism that binds universal meditations on life and love to the surroundings of a spectral paradise. These are love songs; the free, wild and unrestrained love of the other songs on Blonde On Blonde contrasts with the abstract love of these two allegorical poems, modern Dantesque visions that affirm a supernatural entity through the arcane vision of the female being. Kooper's organ is the protagonist, with its gospel crescendos and its sustained notes. Trivia: Dylan himself plays the guitar solo of Leopard Skin Pill-Box Hat.

Blonde On Blonde is, together with the contemporary Freak Out by Frank Zappa, the first creative record of rock music, its first work of art. Its influence on the music of the time was enormous because it inspired an entire generation of musicians to express themselves first and foremost. Within a few years all English and American bands conceived creative works, including the Beatles with Sgt. Pepper. The doors of psychedelia were unlocked.

At this stage Dylan the folk singer, the singer of songs of protest is completely erased. His artistic itinerary has produced two fundamental innovations: the blues of desolation and the visionary ballad. A myriad of musical elements (folk, blues, beat), the discomfort of existentialism, the mythological personality, the literary citations are all fused together in a unique block of sound/emotion, of which Desolation Row and Sad Eyed Lady are the maximum examples.

The intense bitterness of Dylan's parables hid a perpetual, indefatigable and maniacal autobiography. A mythical aura surrounded Dylan's life. His popularity was immense, not only on college campuses, not only in the United States. The measure of his popularity should not be measured by the ten million records he sold (nothing compared to the Beatles or the Beach Boys) but by the 150 covers of his songs by others, a record never again repeated.

Dylan's life was dominated by drugs and by his own fear of myths. The intricate psychology of his personality, as many of his texts show, conferred to him a mysterious and sinister charisma that fascinated his public and set the stage for personal tragedy. On July 30, 1966 that tragedy happened. Dylan mysteriously disappeared from the scene, officially due to a motorcycle accident that had caused the fracture of several vertebrae and leaving him temporarily paralyzed (although no record exists of such an accident).

During his convalescence the media went crazy, conceiving ever more tragic scenarios of the accident, describing a Dylan severely dumbed down by drugs or actually dead. Meanwhile, all over the world, his records were selling by the millions, thanks to others' interpretations. At the same time, for his most devoted fans, clandestine compilations were put together: "the bootleg". Dylan had retired to Woodstock (in New York state), were he was recording with The Band what would become known as The Basement Tapes (CBS, 1975), officially released years later. This Wheel's On Fire, Tears Of Rage, Too Much Of Nothing, Quinn the Eskimo, I Shall Be Released were further additions to the discourse of Blonde On Blonde.

The times were changing again and not only because Dylan had suffered his accident. He became aware of these changes and didn't hesitate to swim against the currents once again to render psychedelic rock as obsolete as he had already rendered acoustic folk. The great comeback John Wesley Harding (CBS, 27 December 1967), surprised everybody, but it was only logical. After having raised a musical revolution Dylan recanted by putting together a compilation of lean, simple songs of religious nature that he sang with a calm and rested voice that had nothing to do with the existential neurosis and anger that had made that Dylan famous. His voice, once hard and ill, had become sweet and stern.

Dylan had begun the movement toward spiritual catharsis: the return to tradition (country music) and the search for the lost values (the Bible). The rhetorical apparatus of his past - parables, visions, prophesies and sermons - were put to service for the new cause. The tribute to the bandit Harding seems yet another tribute to the Guthrie's Pretty Boy Floyd.

The apocalyptic vision of All Along The Watchtower, the biblical transfiguration of Ballad Of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest, a bitter allegorical accusation against America's false prophets, a schizophrenic self-portrait and the poster for an entirely new philosophy of myth, the simple preaching of Drifter's Escape, are the moments that allow his purification. Organizationally John Wesley Harding is the most Unitarian, the most symbolic, the most religious among Dylan's works.

Dylan was adding more and more distance between himself and the turbulent scene of rock music while becoming closer to the tranquil country of Nashville. The bucolic Nashville Skyline, with scandalous collaborations between himself and reactionary singers allowed for catchy tunes (Country Pie, Lay Lady Lay), Self Portrait (1970), arranged with choruses and violins and chock full of covers, and then New Morning (1970), easy as in "easy-listening" (If Not For You).

At this point, perhaps conscious that he was deserving of the lynching by his critics, Dylan clamorously retired for the second time. Besides a nostalgic participation in The Concert For Bangladesh (1971) and the soundtrack for the movie Pat Garrett And Billy The Kid, which includes the majestic Knocking On Heaven's Door, Dylan's silence lasted four long years. During this time he received his honorary degree from Princeton University. In between (1972), he had released the single George Jackson ("...this whole world/ Is one big prison yard/ Some of us are prisoners/ The rest of us are guards").

Dylan's comeback was organized in grand style, with a tour that included The Band. The album Planet Waves (1974) is not one of the best, although sleepy country ballads (On A Night Like This), autobiographical sermons (Dirge), erotic stanzas (Wedding Song) and existential proverbs (Forever Young) are a natural continuation of John Wesley Harding.

The peace between Dylan and his public is restored with Before The Flood, a live, stormy double album full of classical pieces, played in full rock&roll style, sung with the hard and opinionated voice of the past, that generated waves of standing ovations , although the quality of those interpretations is more that of an imitator of Dylan than of Dylan himself. The impression is that of a decent tradesman without great ideas and in constant danger from a rhetoric not always in check.

Blood On The Tracks (CBS, 1974), mostly acoustic, continues the progression: Idle Wind, Lily Rosemary, A Simple Twist Of Fate, Shelter from the Storm, and Tangled Up In Blue are the best works of that period. Built around the disillusion of love, Blood On The Tracks enabled again the correspondence between music and lyric, a decisive execution and the almost amateurish attitude of the past.

After the creative splendors of the "Rolling Thunder Review", the musical circus that carried the myth all over America, Dylan recorded Desire (CBS, 1975), a mature and moving album that could be listed among his masterpieces. This work, a tribute to country-rock and Tex-Mex, with a great progression of strings and voices (Emmylou Harris, among others), marks the beginning of a new style: the eulogy Isis, the lament Joey, the vehement Hurricane and the suffering Romance In Durango are suspended half way between gospel litanies and Morricone's soundtracks. The photographic portraits of the boxer Hurricane and the gangster Joey lend themselves to a loud and frenetic music however banally effective and chaotic.

Street Legal (CBS, 1978) crystallized the new style: melodies fished from country and Mexican folk arranged with much rhythm, many instruments (trumpets and saxophones) and soul choruses: Is Your Love In Vain (a sweltering melody), Changing Of The Guard, No Time To Think, Senior, under the banner of crossover folk-rock-soul-mex, are unusually languid ballads without the verve of his masterpieces, without Dylan's typical drama and disquieting detachment.

The tour and the entourage that accompanied Street Legal were of colossal dimensions. Dylan's new life as rock star was too much in contrast with the protected and reserved life of years past. His talent had been reduced to a magisterial routine masked by the final quality of his packaged product. The movie Renaldo And Clara (1978) and its soundtrack did not shed any new light on Dylan's thousand mysteries. His private life was just as ungiving: his princely Malibu villa was empty. Sarah, who had been with him since Blonde On Blonde, had left immediately after their divorce.

Once again, having reached an equilibrium, Dylan unraveled everything to start all over again. This time he converted to Catholicism, he who was born a Jew, and honored the conversion with a funky gospel that fares no better than Gotta Serve Somebody and Precious Angel of Slow Train Coming (1979), Every Grain Of Sand of Shot Of Love (1981), and Jokerman of Infidels (1983), perhaps the best record of this period. This season, full of departures and returns, of dress rehearsals to surprise the public and remain on the crest of the wave, although it had been happening since 1968, was not so creative. The fatigue showed non only in the compositions but in the poetry as well, never before so insipid. To be fair, Dylan took a tremendous risk with Slow Train. First of all, virtually none of his fans was looking forward to Dylan recording original gospel songs and talking about religion. Secondly, it shattered the iconic image of the Civil Rights leader, of the rebellious hippy, of the peace activist, of the leftist intellectual. Saved, the follow-up, was even less musical but even more intimate and persona, like Dylan confessing himself to a priest.

Although the time when he governed popular music had long expired, Dylan was still able to make people talk about him. Empire Burlesque (CBS, 1985) set forth a new, disconcerting period for the bard of Minnesota. After having reiterated his own folk-rock genre with Tight Connection To My Heart, his own genre of love song with I'll Remember You, and after having finally found the right balance of funk, gospel, blues and boogie with Clean Cut Kid and Seeing The Real You At Last (and even a touch of disco with Trust Yourself, When The Night Comes Falling From The Sky), Dylan found himself closer to the Doobie Brothers than Woody Guthrie.

The determining factor here was the recording studio: Dylan was now able to gain advantage from the technique of multitrack recording while preserving the illusion of spontaneity. It became obvious, however, that Dylan was no longer able to write meaningful lyrics: he's either caught in nauseating concentrations of cliche or he speaks nonsense.

That same approach, used again in Knocked Out Loaded (1986), produced a loud, hysterical sound, as in the reggae-gospel Precious Memories or, despite the heavy funky cadence, Driftin' Too Far From Shore. The ever more frequent use of covers is the most evident sign of a lack of inspiration, but it's also a warning that Dylan has become attracted once again to his roots, in a chronic case of psychological and existential regression toward his origins. The long Brownsville Girl, a text by playwright Sam Shepard and the apocalyptic street epic Band Of The Hand serve to jump start his diminished creativity.

Down in the Groove (1988) collects assorted leftovers from different sessions.

Oh Mercy (CBS, 1989), produced by Daniel Lanois is the best album of the decade; aside from the crackling country-blues Political World, worthy of The Band and the bayou ballad Everything Is Broken, worthy of Creedence Clearwater Revival, the album moves in a profoundly personal atmosphere between the softly arranged Where Teardrop Falls and Shooting Star, rich with profound emotions and confessions that bring to mind old timers Hank Williams and Woody Guthrie respectively.

Dylan, who taught everybody, showed that he's also capable of learning from the new generation, taking from Jackson Brown the atmospheric sense in the piano ballad Ring Them Bells, reciting Man In The Long Black Coat as a parable by Cohen but adding a delicate Donovan style arrangement, singing What Was It You Wanted as Waits would, with voodoo cadence and delta guitars. It's a record of great effect. Cynical and cold as the worst of the marginalized, and still the preacher, Dylan has preserved in a corner of his heart the tender, utopian poetry of the generation that made him a myth.

The 80s close without fanfare, with Dylan agreeing to parody himself in the Traveling Wilburys, in the company of Tom Petty, George Harrison, Jeff Lynne and Roy Orbison. Although it is certainly one of the super groups of all time, the result is an orgy of nonsense. Among the songs of Volume One (Warner Bros, 1988), Dirty World stands out, with its mocking progressive R&B arrangement and novelty chorus; among the songs of the second album, titled Volume Three (Warner Bros), the rock and roll of She's My Baby and the doo-wop of Seven Deadly Sins stand out.

Under The Red Sky (Columbia), is intended to repeat that relaxed, ironic mood but fails, as it now often happens to the artist: aside from the novelty Wiggle Wiggle, the ZZ Top-like boogie Unbelievable, and the blues 10000 Men, the song are weak and wavering. The album is incoherent and at times even pathetic. Dylan seems to find his stride in Handy Dandy.

At this time the legendary folk singer snubbed the media and began a colossal tour around the world (that lasted four years, for over three million fans), purposely avoiding great arenas, preferring small town to big cities. At the "Grammys" while America was at war with Saddam Hussein, he scandalized the public by singing either drunk or drugged or both Masters Of War. While in concert in Israel he refused to sing his songs from the past. Enigmatic and provoking, Dylan has made his reluctance to explain himself a true art. Hostile toward his own notoriety and toward the journalists that feed it, he doesn't seem to be in the least worried that he's now singing for a generation that is not his.

If anything, he seems genuinely terrorized by a public who never understood and still doesn't understand: "Nobody is more surprised than me by the longevity of my songs," he declared in February 1992 in San Francisco, in a rare interview. The secret servicemen that accompany him must protect him from the 550 maniacs who have been pursuing him for decades. No other musician, classic or popular, has been the subject of four biographies (Scaduto, Shelton, Spitz and Heylin) while still living.

For the "Bobfest" (at the Madison Square Garden) to celebrate thirty years of activity, Dylan recorded the first acoustic record in twenty seven years, without a doubt the closest record to that of his debut, completely dedicated to the compositions of others: Good As I Been To You (Columbia, 1992). The following year he did it again with World Gone Wrong (Columbia, 1993). Both instances confirm the impenetrability of an individual who sends messages ever more slight, leaving to his public the fun of interpreting them, and also serve to underline how anti-academic Dylan's phrasing and his picking have always been. Unfortunately the impression remains that many of his records have been put together hastily, and that this has been the cause of so much qualitative inconsistency.

The most important event of those years is the release of Bootleg Series (Columbia). One of the few certainties - from the Basement Tapes on - is that Dylan is a mythological creature who loves to let people loose in his attic. We found out over a decade later that the best song of the 80s was Blind Willie McTell (1983), never released. The fourth part of Bootleg Series, Royal Albert Hall Concert includes a May 1966 concert recorded in England (Manchester). One record is acoustic and the other is electric. It's one of the most frenetic performances of the time, it goes to show how much ahead of his public Dylan was.

Time Out Of Mind (1997), the first collection of all-new material in many years, marked yet another resurrection, of the sort that John Wesley Harding was. Dylan's best blues album ever seems to be an artistic testament of sort, with the artist facing eternity and metaphysical uncertainty (Not Dark Yet, Cold Irons Bound, Standing In The Doorway), while Dirt Road Blues and Million Miles seem to replay his career in slow motion. It is a dark, gothic and even macabre work, but Dylan sings it with a detached voice, that hardly sounds like the voice of a prophet. The serenade Make You Feel My Love is as touching as anything Dylan has written in the 1960s. The album's tour de force is a sixteen-minute Highlands, which sounds like a self-reply to Blonde On Blonde's quest for the Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands. Daniel Lanois' production helps each note count.

On Love And Theft (Columbia, 2001) Dylan, well assisted by guitarist Charlie Sexton, ran the gamut from pre-bop jazz (the lilting Po Boy and the slow Moonlight, that could have been two Louis Armstrong ballads) to anthemic folk ballads (Mississippi and especially the martial, driving High Water - for Charlie Patton), from noir blues (Bye And Bye) to slow-grinding blues (Cry A While) to majestic, roaring rhythm'n'blues (Lonesome Day Blues, Honest With Me), from swinging rockabilly (Summer Days) to ragtime (the bouncing, violin-tinged Floater - Too Much To Ask). They are all charming vignettes of ages long gone. The one song that does sound like a tribute to the past is the pulsing, energetic blues-rock of Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum.
His poetic vein touched a new nadir ("every moment of existence seems like some dirty trick/ happiness can come suddenly and leave just as quick") and the music was not exactly revolutionary.
In the 1970s Dylan did something that still puzzles critics and audience: he followed the metaphysical John Wesley Harding with trivial records of country music. Three decades later, he seemed to be up to the same trick: the metaphysical Time Out Of Mind was followed by an album that was basically a joke. Most of the songs are, merely, imitations of blues, rock'n'roll and pop cliches.
The other amazing thing about Dylan is that the less musical his voice sounds (and age is definitely taking a toll on his voice), the more electrifying the music sounds.

In 2003, the distinguished literary critic CHristopher Ricks published a book, "Dylan's Vision of Sin", on Dylan's poetry.

Few musicians in 2006 can sound so out of touch with contemporary music as Dylan does on Modern Times (2006). But then ignoring the trends has always been his secret weapon. (In the past, he also used to set the trends for the future, but that is another story). The album is oddly titled after a Charlie Chaplin movie, and most songs reference genres and styles of Dylan's own childhood. The lead-off track, Thunder On the Mountain apes his own blues-rock sound of 1965. Rollin' and Tumblin' is an odd imitation of Muddy Waters' blues-a-billy. The Latin romance of Beyond Horizon and the domestic pathos of Workingman's Blues #2, that boasts the intimacy of a Cat Stevens parable, are more typical of the album's emotional and musical center of mass: a calm and resigned form of nostalgia. The romantic Spirit On the Water (an old-fashioned ballad sung in the manner of Louis Armstrong) and the apocalyptic The Levee's Gonna Break dispel the notion that Dylan is simply a senile icon kept alive by cunning businessmen, but little on this album does more than assert Dylan's past (past) greatness.

In 2008 Dylan became the first rock musician ever to be awarded a Pulitzer prize (for "his profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power.")

Together Through Life (Columbia, 2009), one of Dylan's worst albums, co-written with Grateful Dead's lyricist Robert Hunter, was his blues album, with a strong zydeco influence (courtesy of David Hidalgo's accordion). I Feel a Change Comin' On is a bit more melodic and lively than the rest, but the rest can be truly awful. Emblematic of the problem, the seven-minute This Dream of You is a far cry from the lengthy elegies of Blonde on Blonde. Beyond Here Lies Nothin (the highlight and only song worth the price of the cd) finds a nice balance of hoarse voice, African-style drumming and bluesy accordion. Life Is Hard is a slow sleepy meditation a` la Tom Waits. Shake Shake Mama is a night-club joke in the vein of Rainy Day Women. At least It's All Good ends the album with a frenzied dance on an optimistic tone. But mostly these are faceless lifeless blues songs.

In 2011 Dylan embarrassed himself with an exhibition of paintings that were mere copies of other people's photographs.

Tempest (2012) consists of a hodgepodge of styles delivered in a sloppy manner. There are songs that are basically tributes to the styles of his youth, like Duquesne Whistle. There is quasi-boogie Narrow Way and its counterpoint, the folkish seven-minute Tin Angel. There is the pounding, vitriolic Pay in Blood amid several lame tedious laments. And there is especially the Celtic-tinged 14-minute Tempest with accordion and fiddle, an allegorical mournful meditation on the sinking of the Titanic, his best in a while. But in general the storytelling is more yawn-inspiring than inspirational, the material is mediocre, and the performances are slacking.

Dylan spent the next decade recording covers, often of pop ballads popularized by Frank Sinatra: Shadows in the Night (2015), Fallen Angels (2016) and Triplicate (2017).

In 2016 Bob Dylan became the first singer-songwriter to win a Nobel Prize for Literature.

The 17-minute Murder Most Foul (2020) was Bob Dylan's first new song in eight years, a somber meditations on the 1960s starting with the assassination of John Kennedy. It became his first song to top the sales charts, despite being one of his least musical. The band improvises a gentle, plaintive, lightly psychedelic soundscape for the words of the rambling Homeric bard to glide on. The album Rough and Rowdy Ways (2020), with a title that evokes country-music legend Jimmie Rodgers, contains several lengthy litanies in a similar colloquial and monotonous style, notably the nine-minute Key West. The more musical moments are found in the subdued I Contain Multitudes (an obvious invocation of Walt Whitman), which evokes one of Louis Armstrong's raspy, heartbreaking singalongs, and in the sleepy and gritty blues False Prophet (reminiscent of Billy "The Kid" Emerson's If Lovin' Is Believing of 1954). The songs are varied enough, from the waltzing, quasi-clownish Frankenstein-ian skit of My Own Version Of You to the funereal elegy Black Rider via the romantic ballad I've Made Up My Mind To Give Myself To You. Contrary to the title of the album, this is mostly low-energy music. The "rough and rowdy" Dylan comes out only in the stomping salon boogie Goodbye Jimmy Reed, a tribute to the bluesman Jimmy Reed that could be taken from an old John Mayall album, The album came out in the middle of the covid-19 pandemic, at a time of tension between the USA and China, after almost four years of the neofascist presidency of Donald Trump and all the scandals that came with it, and predated by a few weeks the largest racial protests in two decades, but nothing of this is reflected in the lyrics. The mood is bleak, but simply reflects the nostalgia of a 79-year-old man who is beginning to face his own mortality and legacy. Dylan exudes a supernatural calm while he weaves his allegorical tales full of literary cliches (typical of someone who reads a lot of classics), and hardly worth of a Nobel laureate. He drops an endless number of famous names, from John Kennedy to the Beatles and Beethoven and the Rolling Stones, and Chopin and Edgar Allan Poe and Leon Russell, Anne Frank, Indiana Jones, Elvis Presley, Martin Luther King, Al Pacino, Marlon Brando, St John the Apostle... Perhaps he absorbed something from each of them, but his art can hardly be called a post-modernist collage of their work. It is rather a process of free association that tries to elicit meaning out of pure syntax.