“Can’t be topped”: the album Bob Dylan called his very best
Heavy is the head that wears the crowd, particularly if you’re Bob Dylan, whose pre-disposed emotional state is unimpressed.
The hard-to-please rock icon has rarely taken a minute to sit down and enjoy the fruits of his labour, given his general disdain for all things popular, and so pinning down one of his own records as something he enjoys seems nigh-on impossible.
In fact, the moment most artists are inclined to enjoy, their breakout, was quickly swept aside in pursuit of alternative greatness. Just as he was heralded as the folk saviour of Greenwich Village, he was swiftly out the door and labelling his debut record as an antiquated reflection of an artist whose true purpose lay within the amped-up electric worlds of rock and roll.
But really, it shouldn’t have been surprising. While the early introduction to Dylan was one of humility, with a scruffy outfit sat atop a stool, clutching onto an acoustic guitar, what came out of it was entirely focused on moving forwards. Maybe the folk community had Allen Ginsberg to blame, who inadvertently pushed his lyrics from the rousing state of community rebellion into outright surrealism, that elusiveness best suited the ambitious worlds of rock and roll.
Highway 61 Revisited allowed him to openly exercise that, injecting his soundscape with the sort of swagger that warranted the cynical and surrealistic narration of his newfound lyrical style. But just as we were getting used to this new state of Dylan, he was onto the next thing and viewed the seminal album as a dated outlook of his rock and roll ambitions.
Swiftly after came Blonde On Blonde, which, to Dylan’s ear, was the recipe finally perfecting itself. “That’s a great album. I hear that album every once in a while, and I know it just can’t be topped,” he explained.
But while Highway 61 Revisited saw Dylan embolden his sonic style, adopting the much-loved Wall Of Sound approach, it was Blonde On Blonde that he considered the true discovery of his sound. He explained, “The closest I ever got to the sound I hear in my mind was on individual bands in the Blonde on Blonde album. It’s that thin, that wild mercury sound. It’s metallic and bright gold, with whatever that conjures up. That’s my particular sound.”
Dare I say it, but Blonde On Blonde actually slips through the cracks of Dylan’s folk emergence and rock resurgence, as a record that almost encapsulates all of the aforementioned sensibilities. That thin sound he so loves is ultimately rooted in the simple folk style that he mastered early on, whose shimmering finish comes from the touches of rock and roll.
So maybe after his swift abandonment of a genre he deemed antiquated, there was an underlying belief that it still played host to some of his best ideas. Or maybe, it was yet another Dylan move to rebel against the popular opinion, choosing not to appease the folk fans of his early work, nor the rock and roll legends of his latest turn and instead, worship an album that sits in between.
Never Miss A Tale
The Far Out Bob Dylan Newsletter
All the latest stories about Bob Dylan from the independent voice of culture.
Straight to your inbox.