Unlike All The Songs, 2015’s exhaustive analysis of every single Bob Dylan composition, or Chronicles, his critically-acclaimed 2004 memoir, this is about as simple and unadorned as you can get when approaching Dylan’s lyrics: a comprehensive collection of every single song Dylan wrote and recorded from his 1961 self-titled debut album up to 2012’s Tempest. No footnotes, no annotations, no analysis. A few photos and reproductions of Dylan’s longhand scribbling, but that’s about it.
Pessimists will groan and call it a “Nobel Prize rush job”, seeing as how Dylan was in fact controversially awarded the prestigious literary prize just a couple of months ago (more on that later). That’s fair. You could even whine about the crass commercialism of it — given the fact that Christmas is right around the corner — and what better way to let your aging hippie uncle know you’re thinking about him this holiday season?
There’s also the fact that Dylan’s lyrics have been bound and published as a single set more than a couple of times in the past — first in 1985 (in an edition I bought as a high school Dylan freak, complete with lovely charcoal illustrations by the man himself), again in 2001 and even later in 2014. The latter edition was a spiffy, doorstop-worthy volume complete with heavy stock paper and a fancy ribbon bookmark.
Dylan hasn’t released any original compositions since 2012; since then, he’s recorded and released two new studio albums: Shadows in the Night and Fallen Angels, but both consist solely of standards. So what’s new with this version? According to the publisher’s press release, “Well known for changing the lyrics to even his best-loved songs, Dylan has edited dozens of songs for this volume, making it a must-read for everyone from fanatics to casual fans.”
Additionally, while the lush, collectible 2014 version goes for more than $200 (unless you have better luck with eBay), the new version is a relatively budget-rate edition. Despite the considerably lower price, it still looks lovely, was obviously assembled with great care, has a cool red duotone cover with Bob’s 1966 face staring at you, and contains all the same lyrics, from “Song to Woody” to “Duquesne Whistle”.
Arranged chronologically, the book is divided by individual studio albums, and in addition to the songs from the albums proper, you get all the songs that were later dropped from the albums’ final sequences (most of them later ending up on various editions of Dylan’s celebrated Bootleg Series). That means that in addition to “The Times They Are A-Changin’”, you also get the epic, oft-covered “Percy’s Song”. Multi-verse masterpieces like “Hurricane” and “Black Diamond Bay” from the Desire album sit comfortably next to outtakes like “Abandoned Love” and “Golden Loom”. One of Dylan’s most acclaimed outtakes, “Blind Willie McTell”, is here alongside the rest of the compositions from 1983’s Infidels. It’s a testament to Dylan’s creative prowess outracing his recorded input, particularly in the early days when you see that the self-titled debut album contains two official Dylan songs and 27 “additional early lyrics”.
Calling Dylan a “protest songwriter” is not unlike referring to Stephen King as a “horror writer”. While both writers are best known for those respective genres, they are certainly not limited to them. Songs like “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll”, “Chimes of Freedom” and “Masters of War” are sterling examples of protest writing, but Dylan also excelled at surrealism (“Mr. Tambourine Man”, “Ballad of a Thin Man”), simple love songs (“If Not For You”, “Sweetheart Like You”), aching breakup songs (Blood on the Tracks is perhaps the greatest divorce album ever made) biographical epics (“Joey”) and everything in between. The Jewish born-and-bred Robert Zimmerman even experienced a detour of faith and brief conversion to Christianity, which is chronicled in a trio of much-maligned-yet-worthy albums (Slow Train Coming, Saved, Shot of Love). Poring over the lyrics chronologically, it’s a gentle shock to witness such a unique creative arc.
Regarding the Nobel Prize controversy: a great deal of fuss has been made by writers, critics, and fans of all stripes concerning Dylan’s award. Is he deserving of the Nobel Prize for Literature? Do song lyrics belong in the same category as the works of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Samuel Beckett and Pearl Buck? Like all artistic “prizes”, there are no technical units of measure on which to base the merit. You can’t tally up batting averages or home runs in literature, as you do in baseball. It’s worth is in the eye of the beholder. With 30-plus albums of material to drink in, this lovingly packaged hardcover collection of dazzling wordplay and unique vision goes a long way in confirming what millions of fans already know: Bob Dylan is master of the written word. You don’t need a gaggle of Swedish academics to figure that out.
There’s something reassuring about hearing Bob Dylan’s weathered voice, battered by over 50 years of recording and performing, crooning “and if you should survive to a hundred and five / look at all you’ll derive out of being alive / and here is the best part / you have a head start / if you are among the very young at heart”, in the opener to his latest covers album, Fallen Angels.
Dylan shows every intention of surviving until at least a hundred and five (hell, that’s 30 years from now, imagine how many great albums the man could put out during that span!), and he’s already derived more out of being alive than anybody could have imagined. Bob Dylan is a legend, the greatest songwriter in rock history, and if anybody has earned the right to ease into a warmly nostalgic set of well-worn classics it is he. Dylan’s not covering pop standards out of laziness, though, or because his own songwriting well has dried (he delivered the razor-sharp collection of originals, Tempest, only four years ago, and covers have always been a huge part of his repertoire). His fondness for these songs is obvious in the carefully crafted arrangements, the deep resonance of his vocals and the glowing charm his band wrings out of these old nuggets.
Fallen Angels is a companion of sorts to his last album Shadows in the Night, released barely a year ago. It is also a set of Dylan’s take on standards from the deep catalog of pop music history. He opened that album with a much darker vibe, a stunning take on “I’m a Fool to Want You”. Here, “Young at Heart” sets a lighter tone, which he more or less maintains throughout the album. Like its predecessor, all of the songs here (apart from the Johnny Mercer / Hoagy Carmichael gem “Skylark”), were at one time recorded by Frank Sinatra, but every one of them have been covered by a wide array of artists spanning decades.
Dylan offers a whimsical take on “Polka Dots and Moonbeams”, which, like much of the album, features gleaming lines of Donnie Herron’s steel guitar that shimmer like the moonbeams in the lyric. Like on Shadows in the Night, Dylan’s voice here is surprisingly supple given the ragged croak he often delivers live in concert. He instills sincerity and genuine feeling in the gently swaying “All the Way”, an Oscar winner in 1957 for writers Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn after Frank Sinatra recorded it for the film The Joker Is Wild.
“Nevertheless” dates all the way back to 1931 when Bing Crosby first recorded it, and dozens of musical luminaries have covered it since. Dylan’s take is a stately country slow-dance with a beautifully elegant guitar solo. “All Or Nothing at All” was a huge hit for Frank Sinatra in 1943, and Dylan’s reverent take on the 73-year-old track features one of his strongest vocals on the album, rich with feeling. He also takes a few lesser-known gems for a spin, like the jazzy little novelty “On a Little Street in Singapore”. Dylan’s voice is so closely mic’d that his ragged intakes of breath are clearly audible as he gamely tackles one of the album’s more robust vocal challenges.
Perhaps the weakest moment is “It Had to Be You”, which is a bit like drunken late-night karaoke with a band badly in need of a caffeine infusion. He makes up for it with a swinging take on “That Old Black Magic”, with the band finally unleashed from all the slow tunes and Dylan keeping up with their pep admirably. The album ends with the sentimental ballad, “Come Rain or Come Shine”, lovely and solemn.
It’s remarkable how cohesive Fallen Angels is as a listening experience considering that the material stretches decades. Dylan proves that these songs are still relevant and can still be deeply felt despite their age. It’s almost as if he’s intent on proving the eternal durability of a great song. Ultimately, that seems to be the point. For Bob Dylan, it’s obviously a labor of love, and for the most part he succeeds.
It’s not on the same level as Shadows in the Night, which is darker, more emotionally intense and an altogether more potent experience. At times Fallen Angels feels a bit lightweight in comparison. Still, it’s a touching tribute to Dylan’s continued passion for music, his love of performing and a celebration of some damn good songs.
