It had happened in August 1966 and soon rumours spread as to what exactly occurred. Had Dylan been mortally wounded? Paralyzed? Left a vegetable? Died? The myths grew as his many touring dates booked by manager Albert Grossman had to be cancelled. It was likely for the best since Bob was in a run-down state, more precarious health-wise than he would be until the mid-90s. A steady diet of marijuana, mphetamine and possible heroin use had turned Dylan into a zonked-out creature, not too far from the fictionalized portrayal of Cate Blanchett playing the very 1966 Dylan-based "Jude" in 2010's film I'm Not There. The scathing backlash of many in his fanbase to his adoption of electric rock music had seemingly rolled off Dylan like water off a duck's back. But deep inside the madness got to him and made him contemplate retiring from music, secluding himself or changing directions entirely. Luckily he opted for the latter two routes.
The following year, Dylan relocated with his wife and started a family. He also took an integral part in the immortal Basement Tapes at the nearby cottage of some friends. The friends were the Hawks - later to become world renowned as the Band. These mostly Canadian fellows had been Dylan's 1966 touring band, reaching glorious heights by fusing their bluesy bar band/rockabilly nature with his folk leanings. His prolific songwriting would also rub off on them to fantastic results. Many of the tunes made the rounds on a popular bootleg album called The Great White North Album,which led to Columbia officially releasing many of the recordings (but not really close to all of them) in 1975. The sessions still stand as Dylan's own lost touchstone moment, signalling his immersion into a mythology by yarning a legendary string of songs seemingly borne out of a different time and place in American folklore, as if conjured up by world-weary bluesmen and then unearthed by Alan Lomax or Harry Smith stumbling upon some rural, cotton-picking Southern village.
They solidifed Dylan as no longer a mere copyist or byproduct of the 60s culture he helped create, but as a timeless creative beacon. But in typical Dylan fashion, many of the recordings and songs weren't intended to see the light of day- the first sign that Dylan, willingly or unwillingly, didn't know what to do with his most stirring material. Eight years previous to the official release of these "tapes," Columbia was most certainly relieved when Bob eased back into the public eye- if only for a moment- with the release of John Wesley Harding at the end of 1967, a spare, country-tinged album that was hardly a followup in spirit to the expressionist Blonde and Blonde and contrasted with the flower power psychedelia ruling the rock world at the time. Columbia had tried to placate his void in the marketplace with a greatest hits release in 1967, an event that extremely rankled Dylan due to it being put out without his approval or consultation.
Meanwhile, his woodshedding continued through 1968 in spite of the new material unleashed to the public. Everyone wanted a piece of the icon but he was content to release music every so often while raising a family with his wife Sara Lowndes, married to him in a secret ceremony in 1965. A foray into much more faithfully pure country came in 1969 with Nashville Skyline but all the while, Dylan was being pressured by the radical Hippies to become their champion and spokesperson against the Vietnam War. The counterculture saw Dylan as the pied piper and wanted to follow him on the march to peace. Dylan resisted, being a rather apolitical thinker when push came to shove. But the adulation and demand was starting to grate on him, so with 1970's double-LP Self Portrait, he somewhat intentionally made the corniest, squarest album possible in order to shake off the attention in both his private and artistic life. It was a set even Merle Haggard and his "Okie from Muskogee" types would consider simplistic.
The RTR consisted of numerous musicians Dylan has associated with over the years not to mention others with a wide divergence of backgrounds- everyone from Joni Mitchell to former David Bowie sideman Mick Ronson! The tour started off big enough, but got decidedly massive as it kept adding guests from show to show, sometimes those guests staying on for further tour stops. The wild party cocktail of drugs, alcohol and ridiculous fanfare was a true sign of the times. It also seemed to sap a lot of Dylan's creativity once the dust had settled. For the tour, Dylan adopted a more theatrical style than ever, donning a "mask" with eyeliner and white face paint (but don't worry, he didn't look like the lost third Jewish member of KISS). He gestured more noticeably with his physical movements and bellowed the songs in a hoarse, energetic voice completely unlike the laid-back, almost laconic Dylan of old. Amidst it all was the filming of one of his newest pet projects, a four-hour dirge of a film that became known as Renaldo & Clara upon its release in 1978.
Work on that ultimately forgettable cinematic endeavour held up Dylan's next release. Amidst the filming of his eventual movie, the Rolling Thunder Revue tour finished in 1976 after generating much publicity and seemingly putting Dylan back on top of the contemporary pop/rock world. But Dylan, now 37 but with a wealth of experience behind him, was really in a crisis period personally. His marriage to Sara officially ended in 1977 despite the many attempts to repair it over the prior five years of cracks in the facade. In 1978, the newly divorced Dylan released the odd Street Legal, an album panned everywhere except in Europe, particularly Holland where for some reason it became seen as one of his most vital works (does this mean it needed Amsterdam marijuana to be enjoyed? Possibly so.) Of the 9 tracks, only "Changing of the Guards," "Senor (Tales of Yankee Power)" and "Where Are You Tonight (Journey Through the Heat)?" were worthy of being on an album issued by a name like Bob Dylan.
Street Legal featured Dylan with a rather generic pro rock unit, equipped by multiple female backing singers- to become a trait of practically every Dylan album until 1989. The rather upfront and beefy saxophone of Steve Douglas added a Vegasy touch but the songs themselves lacked originality and though there were a few good ones, there were many that were truly pedestrian. It seemed an unatural, ill-fitting next step after the highs hit in the mid-70s. With a similar band on the road to the Street Legal tracks, Dylan took to a big world tour through 1978-79 but it was disparaged by most critics for its overblown sound and complete reinventions of old standards that rendered them either unrecognizable, schmaltzy or both. The double LP live document of the tour's Japanese visit was captured by the depressing Bob Dylan at Budokan. The presence of several African-American women backing him on the tour not only gave the music a gospel feel but brought Dylan to a point no one had contemplated was possible: a conversion to Christianity.
The whirlwind of his life and the personal failures led him to converse with these black women about their faith. Bob also credited a Toronto concert where a fan threw a silver cross necklace onstage and the intrigued singer kept it for comfort. Then he apparently had a vision in a hotel room in Tuscon, Arizona, where he claimed to feel the spirit of Jesus joining him. When the tour concluded, he shocked many by becoming a born again Christian, a move many saw as hard to fathom, firstly because he was a Jew and secondly because his lyrics and attitude always seemed too intellectual and knowing to embace religion- at least that's what his secular and atheist supporters contended. Rumour had it that Bob was baptized in Pat Boone's swimming pool, but there's never been any proof of this happening. If true, Boone could've turned it into a museum for a quick buck from Dylanites I suppose. As a born-again, Dylan soon took to airing out his complaints quite heartily and vociferously.
With this new faith, Dylan bravely made it clear and ever present in his live shows that he'd found Jesus, God, belief, etc. and that he was going to let everyone know. But most of the time, all the abundance of faith he acquired made him come across as angrier, more bitter with the world. That streak of outrage hasn't completely left his music to this day but it's more of a soft undercurrent compared to the dogmatic soapbox that was his Christian re-birth period. 1979's Slow Train Coming, produced by Dire Straits' Mark Knopfler, was the forum for these newfound beliefs and while the passion behind the more faith-based pieces equalled some of his 60s highlights, a lot of the blues-rockers were familiar sounding and only served for him to rant about those who were poisoning the world or going to hell. Yet it was one of these, "Gotta Serve Somebody," that strangely enough won him his first Grammy award. Despite the flaws, Slow Train was seen as superior to Street Legal in most circles, and some even claimed it to be better than Desire.
Knopfler's clean, feathery production certainly hit the spot after the rather aimless production jobs done on Bob's previous two LPs. For a minute there in 1980, it seemed Dylan was going to turn it around and perhaps use his Christianity to become sensational once more, even if he had become so ingratiated in it that he was predicting the end times and the return of the Messiah. After all, such a spiritual rebirth had done wonderful things for Van Morrison when he was in danger of becoming stale. But no such acclaim was made toward 1980's Saved, a stiff and joyless effort that was dead on arrival and among his worst albums. Aside from the grandiosity of "Solid Rock" and the touching "What Can I Do for You?" featuring perhaps his best harp solo ever, Saved was a limpid collection of gospel and boring blues-rock with Dylan's singing voice declining to the point where he was almost talking instead of even trying to properly sing anymore. This was a crying shame considering video and audio footage of many of his concerts from around the same period show Dylan's religious vision and new compositions were surprisingly moving when done with the proper amount of passion and care.
But was anyone really going to go nuts over a 44-year old who could barely wheez out a song... unless it was totally out of character for him and highly mainstream? The answer was no but Bob gave it a shot with Empire Burlesque. For it, he reached out to the cream of the crop of rock session men, writers and producers but namely Eurythmics' Dave Stewart and New York-based dance and hip hop producer Arthur Baker. Despite its slickness, inadequate mixing and aimless electronic accessorizing, a lot of critics enjoyed this album and its songwriting isn't too shabby, even if its production often is. It only falls on its face for unfocused, throwaway cuts like "Never Gonna Be the Same Again" and the misbegotten "Disco Dylan" experiment, "When the Night Comes Falling from the Sky." But this time most of the love songs don't suffer from dullness and though the synthesizer hijinks don't improve a lot of cuts, they don't ruin any either.
The LP even ends on a harkening back to the guitar-and-harrmonica folk days with the short, but memorable ditty "Dark Eyes." 1985 was a busy, busy year in the professional life of Dylan. He showed up on "We are the World," released a fantastic career retrospective "box set" called Biograph and performed at Live Aid in a rather slapdash, trainwreck acoustic set with technical gaffes and the unstable backing of an inebriated Ron Wood and Keith Richards of the Stones.
Then Dylan topped it off by innocently suggesting some of the money raised go to help struggling American farmers, a quote considered the genesis for what became Farm Aid. He even gave his first TV interview in years and when you look at it, 1985 is the last time the man could be seen everywhere in the media. The myriad of sessions Dylan was involved in from 1983-86 formed the basis of his next two albums, a pair of letdowns after Infidels and Empire Burlesque hinted at respectability.
"Brownsville Girl" was a fleeting moment of excellence in a time of dry wells of creativity. Still, Knocked Out Loaded made Infidels and Empire Burlesque look like chartbusters by comparisons, stalling out at a paltry on Billboard's charts without cracking the top 30. 1988's Down in the Groove arguably made no improvement even if it was an album of more consistency. But unlike Knocked Out, it lacked a true lynchpin track to get jazzed about. There were fewer writings from Dylan and more pointless, bluesy filler like "Had a Dream About You, Baby," "Let's Stick Together" and " At the same time, there was humour ("Ugliest Girl in the World"), stark folk covers to relive his halcyon folk prime ("Shenandoah," "Rank Strangers to Me") and a moving song taken to classic level later by Nick Cave ("Death is Not the End"), and also including a collaboration with vocal group Full Force. But cobbled together through so many sessions dating back so far gives it a giant personnel list and where else are you going to hear Eric Clapton, Steve Jones (ex of the Sex Pistols), Paul Simonon (ex-the Clash), Randy Jackson (yes, the same one of American Idol fame), Sly & Robbie and Kip Winger all on the same album?
Even Dylan's sporadic role in a film in the 80s was a misguided attempt at achieving anywhere close to a decent standard. I speak of 1987's Hearts of Fire, a film that received limited release around the world, was panned by critics everywhere and rightfully so. If it was hard for Bob to figure out where his career was at by this point, it was even harder for audiences to accept. He still enjoyed the high stage musically, enjoying a slight resurgence in concert during a 1986 world tour with Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers as his opening act and collaborators. The Petty tour, according to Dylan in Chronicles Part One, found him regaining his strengths of singing his older tunes in a way where he could reinvent them and find meaning in them again (this just 8 years after forgoing his older material because these songs supposedly weren't sent to him by God to write). Whatever path he was on when discussing this, Dylan surely must have been referencing what prompted him to turn to constant touring starting 2 years later. Out of several collaborations with members of the Grateful Dead, Dylan went out on the road with them for a period in 1987, resulting in the unfortunate Dylan & the Dead, a low point for both well established veteran acts that should best be left forgotten.
Bob also claimed in that memoir that he'd severely injured his hand in a boating accident and it made him question of he could play guitar again or if he should even bother with music anymore. Some have read into this beyond the ailing hand. One theory is that Dylan's crisis of confidence came from losing his singing voice as well and in his recordings after 1988-89, his voice took an inexplicable turn for the worst, losing range and being resigned to a low, crackled growl. Now it's not as if he could sing well when he had the full capabilities of his voice but since the late 80s, his singing voice has steadily worsened to this very day. As of the late 80s, Dylan craved a role where he could sink into the background and found that when he participated in the celebrated supergroup, the Traveling Wilburies. Though vocally and songwriting-wise his contribution were small, it did do well to boost the fortunes of his sagging career and his goofy "Tweeter and the Monkey Man" was a highlight of the self-titled record that followed late in '88.
With his reputation still artistically shot on his own, Dylan found a temporary reprieve thanks to famed Canadian producer Daniel Lanois. Lanois had made waves in the past 3 years, producing commercial and/or critical smashes by U2, Peter Gabriel, Robbie Robertson and the Neville Brothers. With practically the same studio group as the one on the Nevilles' superb `989 album Yellow Moon, Dylan finally found a producer willing to do unique, breathtaking things with his sound. Lanois pushed Dylan to capture a feel and put some committment into arranging his songs where it had been severely lacking for the better part of a decade. Lanois has since grown tobe pigeonholed as carrying a distinct style, sometimes one predictable and cliched despite its majestic splendor. Heavy on reverb, slapback echo and other atmospheric touches like so many other Lanois works, 1989's Oh Mercy was nonetheless the tonic needed to bring life to some of the simplest, yet genuinely heartfelt collection of songs Dylan had written since Slow Train Coming.
But the darker, more harsh realities of love and life were echoed in the best covers of the album- "Little Maggie" and "Black Jack Davey" for instance. It was with this bleaker side that Dylan ran with for World Gone Wrong, a reserved, subtle "fire and brimstone" affair that resembled Dylan's dim worldview of his Christian period, only this time applied to arrangements much less dense and more time honoured. It was hailed as a minor masterpiece, and finds Dylan evoking the dusty roads, plantations, run-down rural scenes and tragic realities of Depression era America. Coming off more like an old, wise traveller than a bitter, God-fearing codger has been Dylan's metier ever since. After World Gone Wrong, Time Out of Mind was the true major comeback that stuck. 2001's Love and Theft stands as the crowned jewel of this renaissance that continues on to this day. As for World Gone Wrong, it brought weary, bluesy, coal-dusted humanity back to Dylan's lexicon and was arguably his best album overall since Desire (where have we hard that before?). With fabulous numbers like the title cut, "Blood in My Eyes," "Love Henry," "Jack-A-Roe" and "Lone Pilgrim," Dylan enjoyed a surprisingly natural album than almost anything he'd done since the 70s.On World Gone Wrong, the organic and satisfying progression up from Good As I Been, Dylan stood like one of the aged, experienced Delta blues giants he had always tried to replicate.
Following this, Dylan began to restore his reputation as a must-see touring act by working for years with a reliable core of musicians. He quit his worrying drinking habit and started writing again, allowing for a freshness not seen in years. Bob still pulls out crazy moves like his recent Christmas album- albeit, done for charity- and he can still confuse and bewilder in concert, but overall he has learned how to hit his senior years gracefully. The middle aged years were no picnic but it took a real time of reflection for Dylan to recover his mantle. He also understands how to spread out his releases, to pile up quality songs, though he was on a real tear by following up 2006's Modern Times with Together Through Life under 3 years later. But if his years on this earth are now down to a mere decade or two, every music fanatic can be grateful that he stepped up his game one last time, for however long it lasted. God willing, he will be providing music for a lot while longer because if he can continue his post mid-life renaissance, the end of his glory is far from near.