In preparation for the upcoming episode of Texting, which my co-host Tomek and I are conceiving of as a “celebration” of Bob Dylan’s “Love and Theft,” I have been revisiting not only that particular album, but the entire Dylan catalog to boot. While doing so, I thought I might as well help set the mood for S3E12 by throwing together a textually deviant playlist of 20 Dylan songs recorded at different stages of the erstwhile Robert Zimmerman’s long career. To undertake such a task is of course to expose myself to potential charges from hardcore Dylanites of being a “noob”—since every jerkoff, myself included, thinks he knows the “true” Dylan and everyone else is woefully ignorant—but if I can make at least one listener reconsider at least one track or spark a spirited conversation about America’s greatest singer-songwriter and his oeuvre, then perhaps my efforts shall not have been in vain. That said, I should admit straightaway that I’m an old school rocker with a particular affinity for the music of the 60s and 70s, so my playlist will definitely reflect that prejudice. I have also thus far completely neglected to audit Bobby D’s Christian phase—if for no other reason than because the album cover of Saved gives me the creeps. The only remaining criterion of selection is that I am limiting myself to one song per album (except for the double album Blonde on Blonde). Given the depth and profundity of the Dylan songbook, it should be understood that a list such as this could change from day to day, but for what it’s worth, here’s what I’m feeling today. I’ve made up my mind to give myself to you in this manner. Whether you are a Dylanesque “noob” or a self-styled Dylanologist, I hope you find something herein to inspire or provoke you.
1. “Summer Days”
Let’s kick things off with something from “Love and Theft” itself, the textual focus of S3E12 and the album I have called Dylan’s “autumnal masterpiece.” You should absolutely listen to the record in its entirety, as it is one of the Minnesota-born troubadour’s finest collections of songs, most of which have by now more or less found their way into the Great American Songbook. Several Dylan fans I polled mentioned “Mississippi” as a standout, but I personally prefer tracks like “Lonesome Day Blues,” “Bye and Bye,” “Honest With Me,” and “Sugar Baby.” Since I can only pick one, though, I will go with “Summer Days,” which I heard performed live at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo on February 20, 2002, soon after the album’s release—on September 11, 2001, of all days. The band was cooking the night I saw them and the dueling electric guitars of Charlie Sexton and Larry Campbell were, well, electrifying. I even noticed Jack Frost himself dancing a bit of a jig. Now, everybody get ready to lift up your glasses and sing!
2. “Is Your Love in Vain?”
Thanks to friend of show Joe and his co-host Gareth for Episode 7 of the 10TB Hard Drive podcast, which shamed me into giving 1978’s Street-Legal another listen. Of course, Gareth’s claim that this horn-laden Springsteenesque album is Dylan’s greatest achievement strikes me as absurd. Suum cuique should be taken as a guiding principle in matters such as these, but in my humble opinion Street-Legal doesn’t even measure up to its predecessor, 1976’s Desire. However, there is some excellent guitar work to be heard throughout, and “Is Your Love in Vain?” alone is worth the price of admission. “Achingly beautiful” is the phrase that comes to mind when I listen to this track (and I must have played it at least fifty times in the past couple of weeks):
3. “Romance in Durango”
And speaking of Desire, the follow-up to the canonical Blood on the Tracks, I would say there are at least three songs on this record which are among Dylan’s best, and “Romance in Durango” is one of them. “Isis” and “One More Cup of Coffee” might—or might not, actually—be better songs overall, but, as you will see, I have a special place in my heart for Dylan’s extended musical narratives, and I’ve always found the Tex-Mex vibe of this track (which is featured in Oliver Stone’s underrated film Savages, by the way) irresistible. Note: Bob Dylan’s Spanish pronunciation is better than Joe Strummer’s.
4. “Foot of Pride”
Dylan snapped out of his Jesus freakout with 1983’s Infidels, an album produced by Dire Straits’ Mark Knopfler and featuring the Jamaican rhythm section of Sly & Robbie. The “noob” choice from this album would of course be “Jokerman,” or perhaps “I and I” (“Neighborhood Bully,” with its unsavory Zionist apologetics, being out of the question, of course). These are both great tunes, but I will go with one which technically didn’t even make the final cut. I think I hear both Knopfler and ex-Rolling Stone Mick Taylor on this version of “Foot of Pride”:
Here’s another outtake, which almost sounds like a different song altogether:
But my favorite version of “Foot of Pride” is Lou Reed’s blistering cover from the 30th Anniversary Concert at Madison Square Garden (with SNL’s G.E. Smith on guitar and Letterman’s Anton Fig on drums):
For those who don’t like this choice: say one more stupid thing to me before the final nail is driven in.
5. “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”
Next we go back in time to 1963, almost to the beginning, when the heir apparent to Woody Guthrie released The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, an album featuring 11 original songs, one of which is this lovely folky ballad which has comforted me during many a break-up. When my Seoul-based band Princess Disease was merely an acoustic duo, this number was part of our set-list, and it featured yours truly singing, strumming the guitar, and blowing the harmonica for indifferent drunkards in Itaewon. Classic early Dylan chosen for sentimental reasons. Tomek likes this one too, as well he should.
6. “Forever Young”
Call me a “noob,” but this blessing in the form of a song, this biblical psalm in the form of a pop tune, from 1974’s Planet Waves— but first heard by me on The Essential Bob Dylan, released in 2000—is too transcendent a musical statement to not be included in my textually deviant playlist. Needless to say, I prefer the slow version of this “cast-iron song” (or is it a “torch ballad”?). Robbie Robertson, Levon Helm, and the rest of the Band provide appropriately laidback accompaniment. Neil Young and Jerry Garcia have given their endorsement.
7. “On the Road Again”
Now we come to the heart of the matter. The next four tracks in my textually deviant playlist are all from that trio of albums released in 1965-1966 which—along with all that the Beatles, the Stones, the Who, et al. were up to at that time—changed rock music forever (and mostly for the better). Of course, 1965’s Bringing It All Back Home must be listened to from start to finish, but the track I have selected gets the blood circulating as well as any on this record. Play it loud and remember that it is best served with brown rice, seaweed, and a dirty hot dog.
8. “From a Buick 6”
1965’s Highway 61 Revisited may well be the pinnacle of Dylan’s artistic achievement—greater than even the great Blonde on Blonde. (Yeah, I said it.) Every song on this 50-plus-minute record is essential. Pick any one of them randomly and you have hit upon a standard, a classic, a genetic building block of popular music, a strand of musical DNA for the rock that was to come (and is still to come). But because I spent the better part of my life searching for a junkyard angel who would be bound to put a blanket on my bed if perchance I should fall down dying, “From a Buick 6,” like the aforementioned “Don’t Think Twice,” has a special sentimental value for me. Imagine speeding down Highway 61 in an open-top Buick with this blasting at full volume:
9. “Visions of Johanna”
Disc 1 of 1966’s landmark double album Blonde on Blonde features several evocations of the Eternal Feminine. I clearly remember my own “Johanna,” and my visions of her kept me up past many a dawn. If you can’t admit the same, you’re a liar and I don’t believe you.
10. “Absolutely Sweet Marie”
Other such evocations of das Ewig-Weibliche appear on Disc 2, and my fave ain’t necessarily “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands,” although it too is undeniably great. But where are you tonight, Sweet Marie?
11. “Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts”
Fast-forward to 1975. There’s no denying Blood on the Tracks. (In fact, it may even be better than Highway 61, now that I think about it.) Everyone knows and loves (perhaps too much) “Tangled Up in Blue,” and every track after that—every single one—is a standard and a classic. But I feel that the long narrative ballad “Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts” (which clocks in at 8:52) is often unjustly slighted. Why do some fail to recognize the brilliance of this tune? It’s like a musical short story or novella set in the Wild West or—and I mean this in the best possible way—a mid-70s made-for-TV movie with an ironic understated moral (which for some reason I imagine being aired on CBS rather than ABC or NBC). I consider it Dylan at his most Faulknerian (if Faulkner were a rhyming balladeer unbounded by the limits of Yoknapatawpha County).
12. “To Be Alone With You”
Rewind to 1969. Although Nashville Skyline showcases what my brother calls Dylan’s “Kermit the Frog Voice” and I could personally do without the meandering duet with Johnny Cash which opens the album, it is a record chock full of rollicking good tunes. Perhaps I’m biased in choosing “To Be Alone With You” because Princess Disease covered it as well, but just try listening to this 2-minute ditty without shaking your ass. The musicologist in me also loves the shout-out to Ray Charles. “Is it rolling, Bob?” Hell yeah, it is. (Note to “noobs”: That’s actually Bob Dylan querying producer Bob Johnston.)
13. “If Not For You”
I confess I first heard George Harrison’s slowed-down version of this gorgeous song on All Things Must Pass and I honestly like it better than the original:
But here’s Dylan’s version, from 1970’s New Morning, which of course ain’t bad:
14. “Love Sick”
When pressed, I recently listed 1997’s Time Out of Mind as being among my top 10 Dylan albums. That was rash and ill-considered, but the evaluation was made on the basis of the phenomenal opening track, which poignantly depicts what occurs when the Beloved idealized in “If Not For You” disappoints and devastates the Lover. Who among us has not felt in the depths of his bowels the simple truth of the words sung here by that gravelly voice?
15. “Everything Is Broken”
Sometime during the Covid madness, New York punk rocker, singer-songwriter, and Dylan superfan Doug “The Judge” Wapner introduced me to 1989’s Oh Mercy, which was recorded in New Orleans with producer Daniel Lanois (yeah, the Canadian dude that worked with Brian Eno on those U2 albums). When I first heard track 3 on side 1, I couldn’t believe it had escaped my notice previously. Great groove, great musicianship, great lyrics. I include “Everything Is Broken” in this textually deviant playlist because, obviously, everything is still broken in 2024—and probably more so.
16. “With God on Our Side”
“Masters of War” and “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall”—both from Freewheelin’, as it turns out—are probably more powerful as protest songs, but “With God on Our Side” is a nice representative of 1964’s The Times They Are A-Changing. It is a solid anti-war anthem which might also be described as a condensed version of Howard Zinn’s alternative history of the U.S. Empire. A bit of a downer, but it’s good for you.
17. “Motorpsycho Nightmare”
I also have an idiosyncratic affection for 1964’s Another Side of Bob Dylan, which I was first exposed to in the early aughts when friend of show Brian played it for me, my sometime co-author G.J. Villa, and our mutual friend Mahoney at the old Victorian in the Mission District of San Francisco. “Motorpsycho Nightmare” (or “Nitemare,” as it is occasionally spelled) is not even my favorite song on the album—that would be “All I Really Want to Do” or “To Ramona” or “My Back Pages”—but when I first heard it I had a good laugh and, as you must surely know by now, I’m partial to Dylan’s rambling musical narratives (most of them, anyway). This one goes out to all the unpatriotic rotten doctor Commie rats who love Fidel Castro and his beard.
18. “If You Ever Go to Houston”
What is it with Dylan and Texas? Is he a wannabe denizen of the Lone Star State (or Hate, as Morrissey would have it)? Is he trying to claim his share of the Texas songwriting tradition represented by greats like Buddy Holly, who he thinks anointed him his successor (read Chronicles: Volume One, “noob”!), or his former bandmate Roy Orbison? In any case, as a long-time Houstonian and a Texas-born singer-songwriter myself, I feel a twinge of nostalgia from here on the island of Formosa when Dylan (with a little help from Robert Hunter in the lyric department) sings of downtown H-Town on this track from 2009’s Together Through Life, which “Judge” Wapner also introduced me to:
19. “The Wicked Messenger”
Somewhat begrudgingly, I will choose one song from 1967’s John Wesley Harding—not because it’s not a solid or even a great album, but because, as noted above, I recently ranked Time Out of Mind higher and I’m a bit embarrassed by that now. This is not my favorite Dylan song cycle by any means—I’ve never liked the title track or the song which inspired the name of the band who gave us “Living After Midnight”—but it’s interesting that such a stripped-down album was released without fanfare in the aftermath of the Summer of Love and the psychedelic craze, and JWH undoubtedly does include some fantastic tunes from Dylan’s “American baul” period (look it up, “noob”!). The obvious choice would be the Hank Williamsesque “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” which along with “Down Along the Cove” features pedal steel guitar and foreshadows the country rock which would feature so prominently on Nashville Skyline. Other possibilities would be “As I Went Out One Morning,” “Dear Landlord,” and that song made famous by Jimi Hendrix (“noob” selection). But let’s go with “The Wicked Messenger,” a strange prophetic allegory which seems to describe Dylan himself (and would later be covered by the Faces, the Black Keys, and Patti Smith).
20. “Murder Most Foul”
You’ve made it this far, so why not listen to a 17-minute epic from 2020’s Rough and Rowdy Ways? The Midwestern Bard, at age 79, sings the Death of the American Dream while glorifying the music that made that tragedy almost bearable. Other highlights of Rough and Rowdy Ways, if any are wanted, would be “I Contain Multitudes” and “False Prophet.” Enjoy.
And there you have it, my textually deviant Dylan playlist. You’re welcome. Now come at me, haters. Tell me what I should and should not have included. (I can already hear the criticisms being launched at me for snubbing “Brownsville Girl.”) Also, share your comments, impressions, and reviews of “Love and Theft” in particular—or Dylan in general—if you’d like them to be mentioned in the pod. And be sure to tune in Monday for the ep which will feature friends of show Joe and Guy, as well as my co-host and myself. It should be a wild one.