Is Bob Dylan a good singer?
Nasal, laboured, gritty, unrefined, jarring and hopeless – over the years, I have heard and read these adjectives, among others, in relation to the voice of the one and only Bob Dylan. I can concur comfortably with the first four, but number five, I cannot, and six is frankly risible. Of course, one mightn’t laugh initially when hearing the claim, “Bob Dylan is a hopeless singer,” but as the words resound in mind, even the staunchest Dylanophobe can discern the folly as they take stock of the artist’s unparalleled success of the past six decades.
Dylan is about as far from hopeless as a performing artist can be. He arrived in New York City in 1961 to meet Woody Guthrie and begin his folk odyssey in Greenwich Village. At this juncture, Dylan began to corral a modest following. Still, for every follower he gained, a derisive folk purist could be heard uttering words like “hopeless” or phases like, “he ain’t going nowhere”. As we now know, that double negative proved to be the correct prophesy.
The traits that opposed some people to Dylan during his early years, such as his nasal, laboured vocals and his idiosyncratic approach to the harmonica, were intrinsic factors in his eventual success. This departure from convention set the young troubadour apart from the pack, and when combined with a burgeoning knack for poignant songwriting, it was difficult not to tune in.
When listening to the more conventional Dylan covers, like those of ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ and ‘It’s All Over Now Baby Blue’ recorded by Peter, Paul and Mary and Them, respectively, something is added, but we lose something important in the process. Despite these best efforts at refinement, or rather because of them, we lose the gritty realism of Dylan’s voice.
In 1963, Dylan broke through on a global scale with the arrival of The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. This second studio album is home to a fine crop of politically charged songs, some comical, some solemn, that connect because Dylan’s voice was a clear window to his quirky character. Most crucially, it translated natural honesty, and I strongly believe that great art is never contrived.
So, is Bob Dylan a good singer? Well, I certainly don’t claim the man can or could ever emulate Pavarotti. Nor, however, do I believe Pavarotti could emulate Dylan. I imagine Pavarotti would have also had difficulty covering the same vocal range as Céline Dion. Being “good”, as far as I’m concerned, is doing something outstanding within your own physical limits.
A virtuosic singer should be able to hit the right notes on demand over a broad range of frequencies and patterns. A “good” singer should have a basic handle on pitch control but can and should apply this to their own distinctive style. For David Byrne, it’s an angsty yelp; for Horace Andy, it’s a warm, reverberating reggae pulse; and for John Lydon, it involves an assault of overpronunciation.
I personally don’t air my lungs all that much, but if I were to give Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ a whirl, I’m confident I’d be pelted with rotten tomatoes and banished from earshot. My baritone range is much better suited to Lou Reed or Leonard Cohen covers, which is fortunate since that’s the music I’d rather listen to.
I can’t remember where I heard it, but I’ve always enjoyed the line, “Everyone can sing, but that doesn’t mean everyone should”. Beyond the comedy of this statement, I disagree and pose the less catchy alternative, “If you get pelted with tomatoes, find a new audience or try a different vocal style.”
On the most technical level, the judgement of vocal ability is not void of objectivity. Thanks to the Dada Movement, a relatively unskilled painter can create an avant-garde masterpiece (perhaps a glorified squiggle) worth millions, while a proficient and prolific landscape artist becomes well acquainted with the poverty line. Alas, the caveat to this analogy is that the same paint and brushes are available to my hypothetical artists. Yet, we are all brought into this world with differing vocal bounds.
Throughout his career, Dylan has tailored songs to suit his own styles and strengths. I remember the first time I heard Blonde on Blonde. I didn’t think much of it initially, but upon repeated listens, the rough edges of unexpected undulations and seemingly misplaced emphases eroded as the music grew on me like a verdant moss. If you want proof that Dylan could, in his prime, undulate soulfully and conventionally, then you need only to give 1969’s Nashville Skyline a spin.
This debate over Dylan’s voice has raged on for many a year with many a provoked defence. One of the most notable of such defences came courtesy of Mick Jagger. In 2003, a host on Dutch TV asked the Rolling Stones frontman whether he had any apprehensions concerning the likely impact of age on his voice.
“Do you like Bob Dylan?” Jagger asked in response, continuing, “He’s over 60, and I quite like watching his shows. I think it’s quite fun, and I enjoy watching him performing.”
“Yes, I enjoy watching him, but his voice is [not so good],” the host protested.
“You don’t like his voice?” Jagger interjected. “It’s like a voice that’s never been one of the great tenors of our time, but it’s got a timbre, a projection, and it’s got a feeling to it.”
As this exchange patently exhibits, we’re dealing with a matter of subjectivity – “You’re right from your side/ I’m right from mine,” as Dylan sang in ‘One Too Many Mornings’. Therefore, I’m afraid I can’t give you the answer, but I can give you my answer. Thanks to the cognitive revolution, we have subjectivity, and thanks to subjectivity, the diagnosis of a “good singer” shouldn’t be made using a linear or quantitative metric – we must remember that art and mathematics fit together as snugly as a sock on a screwdriver.
Over six long decades, Dylan has, indeed, lost a significant degree of range and projection in his voice and now opts for a crooning jazz-pop style to circumvent. In online forums, some fans complain that songs performed during Dylan’s recent concerts are barely recognisable; meanwhile, others claim not to enjoy the music so much as being in the presence of a living legend. However, to this day, a healthy majority still appears to embrace the warmth of Dylan’s character through his vocals, and by my metric, you’re only a poor singer when nobody wants to listen.
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