It would seem that every time in the last 30 years Dylan sang into a microphone, a tape was smuggled out, copied and passed through an underground of fans. With this 58-track, boxed set of demos, alternate takes, rehearsals and concert recordings, average civilians can get in on both the ephemera and the classic moments.
In its off-the-cuff way, The Bootleg Series is as important as the guitar-plunking poet's 1985 retrospective of authorized recordings, Biograph. (Producer Jeff Rosen compiled both collections.) The sound quality is vastly better than that on any of the estimated 1,200 unauthorized records.
The stark Volume 1, with Dylan backing himself on guitar and harmonica, is the most intriguing. It's a coffeehouse sampler that begins with "Hard Times in New York Town," sung at a Minneapolis hotel just after Dylan's first trip to New York City in 1961, when he signed with Columbia Records.
Also strong is "House Carpenter," a traditional ballad cut from The Free-wheelin' Bob Dylan. Oddities range from a yodeling "Talkin' Hava Negeilah Blues" to a 1963 Carnegie Hall performance of "Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues." In a useful 68-page booklet included in this set, Dylan expert John Bauldie notes that Dylan had been barred from singing the Birch song, a funny anti-anti-Communist manifesto, on The Ed Sullivan Show.
Dylan was always an original. But his borrowings in those early days—from Woody Guthrie, for instance—are obvious. By Volume 2, his artistry is assured, his presentation articulate and evocative. This album contains surprising versions of some compositions, including an acoustic version of "Subterranean Homesick Blues" and a fragment of "Like a Rolling Stone" in a fractured waltz tempo. There's also a haunting "I Shall Be Released" done with the Band after Dylan's 1966 motorcycle accident; the keening harmonies of the late Richard Manuel sound like the voice of an anguished angel.
Volume 3 (1974-1989) is the least satisfying, dominated by clumsy if fervent songs growing out of Dylan's conversion to Christianity. Among the exceptions: a tribute to an old blues singer, "Blind Willie McTell."
If you're still disturbed by Dylan's appearance on the Grammy Awards, fidgeting with his hat and croaking about God knows what, browse in this collection. Listen, say, to "Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie." Its pell-mell poetry is a vivid reminder of how much Dylan has had to say, and of the often remarkable ways he found to say it. (Columbia)
Divinyls
Every strip club in the country should be a much happier place to be, thanks to this album. The music is precisely the sort of stuff every topless dancer worth her tassels will soon be coordinating a routine to, and not simply because the first single is called "I Touch Myself."
First, there's the music's irresistible bump and grind. Every tune on this fine album slinks along sexily with a pop hook that yanks your ears and feet right into the tune. We're not talking icky-gooey, Richard Marx-style hooks. When things get cranking on such numbers as "Need a Lover" and "Bless My Soul (It's Rock-n-Roll)," it's like hearing a sultrier version of AC/DC.
Then there are the lyrics, sung and cowritten by Christina Amphlett, a performer so up-front about her sexuality she makes Madonna seem like your spinster aunt in Arkansas. And Amphlett can deliver such lyrics as "I'm the mistress of the night/No stranger to your fantasy/Lashings of a recipe/I'm whipping something up/That's just for you" on a record without earning a parental warning label.
It's not as if she sounds innocent. Amphlett's sexy voice can go from a little-girl coo on "If Love Was a Gun" to a gritty growl on "Lay Your Body Down," all the while sounding like somebody who could make big money starling up a "976 number" phone line. (Virgin)
Glen Campbell
Somehow Campbell has never seemed like elder statesman material. At 55, though, he strikes a nicely restrained pose on this album, mixing reconsiderations of country standards with appealing new songs.
The highlight is Campbell's elegant version of Willie Nelson's still fresh-sounding "Healing Hands of Time," though it's good too to hear Dolly Parton's "Light of a Clear Blue Morning" and Bill Anderson's "Once a Day."
While Campbell kicks up his boots on "Living in a House Full of Love" and "Somebody's Doin' Me Right," most of the album is more reflective. And why not? There are enough young lions prowling Nashville these days. It's a treat to hear an older cat poring over the country songbook, in effect, and saying, "Yep. These are worth hearing again." (Capitol)
- Contributors:
- David Hiltbrand,
- Craig Tomashoff,
- Ralph Novak.
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
