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There’s something comforting about hearing castanets on a recording by Bryan Ferry – the unabashedly British post-modern rock crooner/sophisticate/poseur, and a true original. Castanets. That sort of unlikely, but terribly continental touch is almost expected from the man who brought the tuxedo and brilliantine slicked-back hair to progressive art-rock.

Way back in 1973, castanets popped up in the arrangement of “Do the Strand” - the tongue-in-cheek dance number that kicked off For Your Pleasure, Ferry’s second album with his longtime band Roxy Music. And here comes that clickety-clack again, spicing up “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” - the opening track on his latest solo album Dylanesque, which, as one might gather from the use of a renowned rock-crit coinage as its title, is nothing but interpretations of Bob Dylan songs. And it’s kind of a full-circle thing, since Ferry’s debut solo release These Foolish Things - a side project from 1973 when Roxy Music was on the rise - kicked off with a rousing and completely unique take on Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.”

Fans and pundits know that Ferry first garnered acclaim as the frontman for Roxy Music, the innovative ensemble that also served as the launching pad for composer/performer/producer Brian Eno. Roxy evolved from its wild, sometimes dissonant glam-rock beginnings to a more refined, romantic sound heard to best advantage on the elegantly lovely Avalon, an album that might be the ultimate in make-out music. Along the way, Ferry was putting out solo albums that swung between idiosyncratic cover versions of classic pop, rock and soul songs, and Ferry originals that didn’t suit Roxy or were better suited to backing by different musicians. The results were always interesting, sometimes thrilling (e.g., “Another Time, Another Place,” his majestic ode to the immutable, emotional connection between music, memory, and romance), and in the case of Ferry-penned tracks such as “Slave to Love,” “Don’t Stop the Dance” and “Kiss and Tell,” commercially viable.

Now, in the wake of a Roxy revival tour, Ferry has gone back to Dylan for inspiration. The results make for a very satisfying listening experience. Is it up to the insanely cool revision of Wilbert Harrison’s “Let’s Work Together,” renamed “Let’s Stick Together” by Ferry; or the almost martial, high-volume mutation of Dobie Grey’s “The In Crowd,” transfigured by screaming metal guitars, thundering drums and Ferry’s arrogant, almost dictatorial vocal? No, it isn’t. But what is?!?

I mean, this is a guy who had the chutzpah to radically cover Dylan, Elvis Presley, The Beach Boys, The Rolling Stones, Smokey Robinson & the Miracles, the Four Tops, and even The Beatles, not to mention Lesley Gore. And that was just on his first solo album.

An entire album of Dylan numbers, 11 in all? A stroll through the countryside. Clearly, Dylan’s lyrics on love, loss, politics, and the price of decadence connect with Ferry. And with the recently rougher quality in Ferry’s voice, speaking of age and experience and wisdom accrued, he’s ideally suited to deliver Dylan’s poetic insights - whether romantic, arcane, noble, or dark.

So we get a ramble through “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” that starts out as a cat-like prowl down back alleys, then picks up speed as it depicts the narrator’s willingly self-destructive search for kicks and his descent into despair and resignation. Ferry’s back-up band, including perennial collaborators such as guitarist Chris Spedding and drummer Andy Newmark, rocks it like Roxy, with the singer adding harmonica parts that are nothing if not Dylanesque.

The plundering of Dylan’s songbook stretches from his spare, often-furious, early ‘60s folk style (the anti-war hymn “The Time’s They Are A-Changing,” done in chugging rock fashion and still quite relevant today) to a proclamation of romantic devotion from the 1997 album Time Out of Mind (“Make You Feel My Love,” turned into one of Ferry’s trademark poignant ballads that would fit perfectly on Avalon).

There is gravitas and beauty to Ferry’s stately reading of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” which also features guitar work from Robin Trower of Procul Harum fame. An up-tempo “Simple Twist of Fate” has the flavor of modern country music, and though it might not sit well with some of Ferry’s rock constituency, it fits his quavery-voiced delivery on the number.

Although a decent try, “All I Really Want To Do” was better off in the hands of The Byrds. But “Positively 4th Street” is as good as a rendering of a Dylan song as I’ve ever heard, with Ferry nailing the hurt and anger and sense of betrayal in the lyrics, while a lovely piano accompaniment ripples underneath and a delicate string arrangement from The Dirty Three's Warren Ellis rounds out the sound.

And the unabashed love song “If Not For You,” blessed by Eno’s pulsing and surging “sonic enhancements,” is an unexpected treat, dreamy and sweet, with Ferry warbling at his warmest.

The closing gambit is a risky one - “All Along the Watchtower,” already done to a faretheewell by Jimi Hendrix many years ago. But I’ll be damned if Ferry and his crew don’t tap into the burning heart and soul of the material with a storming performance that brings Dylanesque to a fitting conclusion. And talk about relevance…

There’s something uncomfortably familiar and topical about a song that begins with the lyrics, “‘There must be some way out of here,’ said the joker to the thief / There’s too much confusion - I can’t get no relief.” Dylan wasn’t prescient. The U.S. was mired in Vietnam when he wrote those words. Still, I’ll praise Ferry for the selection, and say that it’s in line with the rest of an impressive Dylanesque.

Bryan Ferry – “Positively 4th Street”: