There has never been a clearer attempt to shed an audience than Self-Portrait. At least, that's one way of looking at this baffling double album, a deliberately sprawling affair that runs the gamut from self-portrait to self-parody, touching on operatic pop, rowdy Basement Tapes leftovers, slight whimsy, and covers of wannabe Dylans from Paul Simon to Gordon Lightfoot. To say the least, it's confusing, especially arriving at the end of a decade of unmitigated brilliance, and while the years have made it easier to listen to, it still remains inscrutable, an impossible record to unlock. It may not be worth the effort, either, since this isn't a matter of deciphering cryptic lyrics or interpreting lyrics, it's all about discerning intent, figuring out what the hell Dylan was thinking when he was recording -- not trying to decode a song. There are times where it's quite clearly played for a laugh -- if his shambling version of "The Boxer" isn't a pointed parody of Paul Simon, there was no reason to cut it -- but he's poker-faced elsewhere, and the songs (apart from such earthed gems as "Mighty Quinn," which aren't presented in their best versions) are simply not worth much consideration. But, in a strange way, Self Portrait is, because decades have passed and it still doesn't make much sense, even for Dylanphiles. That doesn't necessarily mean that it's worth the time to figure it out -- you're not going to find an answer, anyway -- but it's sort of fascinating all the same.
The world first heard of The Mighty Quinn (Quinn The Eskimo) through Manfred Mann who had a hit in '69(?) with a pop arrangement of what is a brooding, nervous and tense Basement Tapes track. As Dylan Tracks go its certainly a minor work. Perhaps it is, as some have suggested, a near throw-away, a semi-gibberish word game tossed off as a series of inside jokes. But maybe not.Who is this g...
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So I have been informed by one of my trusted allies that the forecast is grim this Monday and we are setting in for a day of storms...well, let us ease into this predicament with a of soft drizzle of Bobby D.
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When I bought the CD Self Portrait about 7-8 years ago, I set it aside for about a year before I learned to appreciate the unique blend of style in both the songs recorded for the CD as well as the way in which Dylan chose to arrange some of the traditional and current songs written by other artists that are present on the disc. The beauty of Self Portrait is that Dylan gives us a glimpse at h...
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Now I have heard many arguments posed over the years that challenge the quality of Bob Dylan's singing voice; and some even challenging the allowability of the four words preceding the semicolon as an English-language phrase without proper insertion of an adjective of the bad, awful, non-existent sort between "Dylan's" and "singing". I however disagree wholeheartedly; and as evidence of my immova
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Here is a little bit of my kind of drinking music when I am low....I love to hear Dylan sing like this....pouring it out all over the floor.
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I have been in a kind of Dylan mood of late, like a few others. Self Portrait and Nashville Skyline were hard albums for me to get into in 1969. I was used to the John Wesley Harding and Blonde On Blonde Dylan. One song that has stayed with me all these years though was 'Days of 49'.It kind of hit the romantic notion of prospecting and gold rush of those days.
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