CD REVIEW
Return of the philosopher Dylan
'Modern Times' gives Bob's thoughts on New Orleans, the weight of history and his love of ladies
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Over blues changes and folk chords on the new "Modern Times," one finds allusions to the Bible, God, Jesus, Carl Perkins, Memphis Minnie, Muddy Waters, prophets, poets and the classical piece Pachelbel's "Canon."
But what is the sage of our dark age driving at?
In the immortal words of Afrika Bambaataa, as sampled by the Beastie Boys on "Paul's Boutique," it's all about "The ladies! The ladies!"
Touched with desire, Bob Dylan's not playing the dazzling hipster-poet per his peerless '65-'66 run. Here he's the wise man with the quiet leer, the questing philosopher-king in what he claims is "a cowboy band."
Dylan even has his own radio show, the amazingly entertaining "Theme Time Radio Hour," on XM satellite radio. Sure, the man probably employs a pit crew of researchers, but man, is it fun to hear him opine on themes such as jail, fathers, divorce and baseball while playing tunes from his youth and yours.
But as any college DJ can tell you, playing your favorite record to a small audience doesn't exactly get you dates, so what's his secret (besides the whole voice-of-a-generation thing)?
"I've been sitting down studying 'the Art of Love,' " Dylan sings on the opener "Thunder on the Mountain," "I think it will fit me like a glove." (Kids, read your Ovid! It works!) Over the shuffling electric blues on "Rollin' and Tumblin," Dylan mumbles that "some young lazy slut has charmed away my brains," clearly trying to suppress a giant grin.
He's even been watching up-and-comers, especially the comely ones. "I was thinkin' 'bout Alicia Keys/ couldn't keep from crying," he sings. "When she was born in Hell's Kitchen/ I was living down the line."
In case you're looking for a deeper resonance here, here's his explanation from a recent Rolling Stone interview: "I remember seeing her on the Grammys. I think I was on the show with her, I didn't meet her or anything. But I said to myself, 'There's nothing about that girl I don't like.' " Let a player play, people.
Some have contended that "Times" is the third album of a trilogy that started with 1997's no-really-it-isn't-lame-like-his-other-comebacks "Time Out of Mind" and continued with "'Love and Theft.'" After all, this is the first time since the 1970s that Dylan has made three excellent albums in a row. But the three are not of a piece.
"Time Out of Mind" was a total lightning strike, the gauzy, wicked sound of a man clawing his way out of a spent voice, a brush with death and serious cultural irrelevance. "Modern Times" sounds like the lyrically complicated second act of a trilogy that starts with "Love and Theft," where Dylan re-discovered his crucial sense of humor and found new ways to translate an encyclopedic knowledge of American idioms into his most vibrant music in years. "Love" arrived on Sept. 11, 2001, and while most folks weren't exactly crowding the record stores that day, the album's charm and wit came to sound like a balm, a sepulchral voice that had seen it all and knew this, too, would pass. "Modern Times" feels like chapter two of the portrait of the artist as an old man.
Lusty though it is, "Modern Times" feels lyrically denser than "Love" and not completely divorced from current events. "The Levee's Gonna Break" makes a bid to reclaim that joint from Led Zeppelin's melodramatic stomping version, an immortal track that turned a blues ditty into a natural disaster. Dylan scales it back to human size and restores its shuffle. "Some people on the road carryin' everything they own/ Some people got barely enough skin to cover their bone." It's only been a year since Hurricane Katrina smashed the Gulf Coast, but the tune reminds you that the threat of disaster is still older than the river.
If there's anything that's keeping "Modern Times" from heading into the pantheon, it's the music itself. Expertly played? Yes. Accessible? Certainly. Immortal? Nah.
Dylan cut most of this live in the studio with his killer road band, producing it himself under the name "Jack Frost." But he seems to have used the band's skills as an excuse to avoid writing really strong tunes. These are more grooves than well-defined songs, the very definition of highly skilled jam-craft.
But when the grooves and the words mesh, it's just like old times (except, you know, modern). The stunning, subtle closer "Ain't Talkin,' " with a menacing acoustic vibe, finds our man hanging around the Mystic Garden, wondering about a world gone wrong. "I'm a-tryin' to love my neighbor and do good unto others/ But oh, mother things ain't goin' well," he sings, "If I catch my opponents ever sleeping/ I'll just slaughter them where they lie." Does the world make the man, or the man make the world? Can we be in it and not of it?
Heart burnin', still yearnin,' making the most of his last hours, Dylan's still able to throw sliders now and then and the ladies are watching from the cheap seats. There's life in his arm, and it's not dark yet.
jgross@statesman.com; 912-5926
