GeekForce

This is the one, folks. To put this statement into perspective, allow me, unbragging-ly, to share from whence/where I come, Dylan’s music-wise.

I’ve worn out, easily, four or even five Dylan vinyl albums prior to the onset of CD’s as medium we enjoy. As a high school senior and then as a (horny)college freshman, budgetary constraints arising from meager pay in greasy food joints stymied my goal to keep abreast in my collection that I only wanted to grow.

Impovershed as I was, I replaced them all– first in vinyl, then in CDs, and went onward to buy and own all twenty-seven Columbia Records’ Dylan releases, from his first in ‘61 to his most recent in ‘06. I share this not for bragging purposes, but  rather to share my knowledge and perspective of him. 

Forget all about him slowing down; he ain’t close to done yet.

Neither am I. The instant a new Dylan recording is released, I drive somewhere close to support retail, artists, labels, and major oil companies all in one trip. Until I’m an invalid, that’s going to be the way things work ’round here.

SIDETRACK: My future bride, whoever and wherever she is, will not only be kind and beautiful and compassionate and a mom, she’ll need to acclimate to Bob Dylan’s music. I’m prepared, I’ll tell her on our first date together, that I’ll commit entirely to attending ALL of her support groups for ladies who hook up with folk star addicts. I already have been to Sam’s and bought six cases (or was it seven? hmmm) of generic Methadone (or was it St John’s Wort? hmmm) to help her AND me get over the hump…

Adding to above, the so-called ‘Bootlegs’, which are a bit harder to pigeonhole just how many versons are out there on various labels. I’ve got three of such compilations, totaling nine additional (fairly long) disks. I don’t necessarily recommend these pricey items just yet–they’ll be half-priced soon enough–unless one has an ear for variations of some rather obscure Dylan material.  Well over a quarter of all ‘bootleg’ tracks are by hand-held mikes and/or via the then-innovative European cell phones with microphones that now, but not then, are available here for entirely too much in the US.

 ANOTHER SIDETRACK:  The ‘bootlegs”–the word by me will always appear in quotes as it applies here; by definition legally marketed and packaged material isn’t bootlegged at all, but rather pulled out of a vault to, well, market and sell.

Quality being a factor or not:  for heavens’ sake, though, don’t deny yourself, if you know your way around a bit, to randomly pick tracks from these collections and dry an eye once in awhile.)

Finally, as the wisest suggestion this affectionado can offer, pick up all three of his ‘greatest hits’ collections (vol 1,2, and 3) that I own but don’t count herein.

‘Oh Mercy’ surpasses the crowd, and there’s specific reasons why Dylan narrates, most proudly, the album’s making in his book “Chronicles, vol. 1″ and what even he must have felt immensely satisfied with (both book and record). That he recounted a project worked 15 years prior to releasing the book means, well, masters must marvel at their workmanship now and again.  I he and I thought alike, we’d cherish this particular record more than any other. 

Let’s start. The album artwork of its front cover is a (NYC) street artist ‘Trotsky’ painted-brick of a couple dancing. The lettering “BOB DYLAN” atop, “OH MERCY” below, is equal parts stunning/striking and that which  evokes color’s striking best on small square canvass.  The rear art’s simply the best image of him ever captured on film. Shirtless, straw hat-adorned, intelligent eyes gazing upwards…prior to ever cutting the cellophane wrap off of the cover, one knows this one’s going to be damn good.

Consistent with nearly all tracks is a slow, resonant vibrato of the guitar, that, of course, Dylan plays. He’s more ‘lead’ in this work than his lead guitarist. Seven guys contribute to tracks as guitarists, one per track, but you won’t hear strange noises up front.

You WILL hear haunting echo-chamber ringing and singing chord progressions and leads that pick their way afronting-ly to the gaps in his most powerful lyrics my experienced ears have heard from my son’s namesake.

This highly unusually striking ’stringwork’ isn’t all that happens, though. Whoever mixed this record DAMN sure knew how to blend a VERY unusually resounding bass, which, amazingly, is shared among three guys, none of which are marqui artists, particularly.

Looking for a producer? Dan Lanois not only crafts THE BEST Bob Dylan sound dimension in forty-five years, he can flat PLAY the dobro and pedal steel. Am I telling you this is a ‘Nashville Skyline II’? Absolutely not. Lanois’s layered contributions of sonance…

(hey, ’sonance’ IS a word, albeit an obsolete one–flash yourself back to the morning you took the SAT while being hung over)

…adds even more substance to what, in spite of Western Christedom’s nearly total shunning of this record, will remain, in my opinion, the CROWNING BEST of the elites musical and lyrical artists.

Track One, ‘Political World’, opens the door for the immense treat awaiting the listener (read: me) bar-by-bar. Three guitars (I lied earlier-this track’s unique, though), a dobro with a reddish-gold sound, and 2/4 beats from a drum to push it all along. Score this one a clean and solid 9.

Track Four, the pitifully short-on-charts ‘Ring them Bells’ that you only could hear if your stereo’s receiver could coax inward the zillions of FM transmitters in NYC/NJ/Philly. As I recall, though I admittedly worked like a (newlywed) dog, I growled like one when our supposed ‘great’ FM honcho/station contributed absolutely nothing whatsoever toward sharing a song that damn well would have made MORE than a few peoples’ days/lives.

Track Five, ‘Man in the Long Black Coat’ is, honestly and literally, intense to the point of near-terror. It’s also an incredible piling-up and mixing of Bob playing chords on a 12-string (hard ones, too, given how his hands had to work), lead-picks on a six strings, and harmonica (and I’ll get to how this one’s different from all others he’s ever blown into). Accompanied only by the (particularly resonating) dobro and some sort of amazing keyboard sound that I’ve never been able to identify it’s make. Suffice to say, though, it’s hauntingly unique and perfect for filling in the holes.

Track Nine–when this song comes on your car stereo system, please follow these simple steps.

1. pull yo’ ass over
2. adjust your bass slightly downward from midway setting
3. grip your lady’s hand ever-so-much tighter–this is HAPPENING and it’s REAL.  She may not stir, but you definitively will.
4. suspend idle chatter (there will be none) within the track’s first, oh, 3 seconds or so, max, and:
5. friggin’ DIG what occurs to your sensories.

I promised a commentary on the ‘harmonica’ as it’s called on the discography. It’s not, or rather, it’s nothing like Zappa playfully poked fun at or like Bob plays on ‘Highway 61 Revisited’. This is some sort of amplified-assisted mouth harp with chamber-filling echo-y resonance. Somebody, probably Dylan, discovered it, and I haven’t heard such a tone before this record or since…

…and I listen to a HELL of a lot of records.

Buy this CD. I rate it a sterling-solid, Nadia-league TEN. Be not idle, waste no time, buy it, be stunned with me, and chant lyrics as you must.  I’ve owned few non-burnt’-outable records, as there are damn few out there, and this is flat ONE.

Oh. And frame both sides of this cover. It’s unrivaled.

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Columbia Records, 1989, Producer, David Lanois