
I’d been meaning to say something about Bob Dylan’s “Modern Times,” which hit the stores last week and which I’ve been listening to over and over again.
The third disc in what Sony has billed as a trilogy, it definitely sounds like an extension of “Love and Theft,” though a little softer and not quite as manically surreal and funny.
“Modern Times” is far more meditative, with Dylan considering the end. It is an album of adult songs, considered, almost sweet, but with a definite edge (listen to the lilting “Spirit on the Water”) — different than the biting vitriol that he has often used, subtle and refined.
Dylan riffs on paradise, Alicia Keys and the deep darkness, sweeping across American musical history like the wandering minstrel ghost he always has been. “Thunder on the Mountain” (where the Alicia Keys reference shows up) is a fitting, rocking opener, and “Rollin’ and Tumblin'” is spitfire blues.
Dylan makes use of the familiar — Merle Haggard makes an appearance on the weakest cut, a workmanlike but somewhat less-than-inspired rewrite of “Workingman’s Blues,” and Slim Harpo and Muddy Waters and … well, call it a pastiche.
“Those who think Dylan merely plagiarizes miss the point,” writes Thom Jurek on All Music.
Dylan is a folk musician; he uses American folk forms such as blues, rock, gospel, and R&B as well as lyrics, licks, and/or whatever else he can to get a song across. This tradition of borrowing and retelling goes back to the beginning of song and story. Even the title of Modern Times is a wink-eye reference to a film by Charlie Chaplin. It doesn’t make Dylan less; it makes him more, because he contains all of these songs within himself. By his use of them, he adds to their secret histories and labyrinthine legends. Besides, he’s been around long enough to do anything he damn well pleases and has been doing so since the beginning.
As with “Love and Theft,” Dylan’s worn voice seems to come from another time, ties all this together. Dylan has always been a synthesizer — back in the mid-1960s, his concoctions resulted in a shape-changing swirl that changed the direction of both rock and folk. In the ’70s, his best work fused an angry, biting wit with a sometimes softer musical streak (this may not be completely accurate; the mid-’70s music from “Blood on the Tracks” and “Desire” lacked the explosive quality of “Highway 61 Revisited,” but still burned with energy).
The new music, with its odd and ancient sounding references, both musical and lyrical, presents us with something equally unusual in popular music — a record about growing older, about regrets and the settling of scores.
Dylan is considering the end, but in doing so he is giving us something wholly new.
South Brunswick Post, The Cranbury Press
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