Bob Dylan “Together Through Life” Review

If reviewing the new Guns ‘n Roses record is “like reviewing a unicorn” according to Chuck Klosterman, then reviewing a new record by Bob Dylan is a bit like reviewing the Roman Colosseum; you might not like the way it looks now, but there is no denying the cultural significance of the structure and the history found within. The real challenge of critiquing Dylan’s 33rd studio album, Together Through Life, is separating the man and the myth from the music, and viewing the work on its own merits, not associating it with and adding it to the myriad of achievements and accolades that Dylan has received throughout his illustrious 47+ year career in music. But no matter how much you manage to separate the legend from the labor, you are still faced with the inherent knowledge that the man has indeed slayed his share of lions over the years, and that the blood of those battles still colors his music even now.

Dylan originally went into the studio simply to record a single track for use in My Own Love Song, the new film by Olivier Dahan (La Vie en Rose), but the session proved so relaxed and uninhibited that the band proceeded to record the 10 tracks found on Together Through Life in quick succession. That leisurely, unforced nature is an underlying quality of all the songs, and really gives the album a breath of life and a sense of vitality throughout. The uptempo blues of “Beyond Here Lies Nothin’” gets the album off to a strong start, showcasing a strong supporting band that Dylan has obviously grown comfortable with while touring over the years. The song is also augmented by the subtle accordion work of David Hidalgo from Los Lobos, whose welcome contributions are featured throughout the record. Dylan makes no promises about his future with the lines, “Beyond here lies nothin’/Nothin’ done and nothin’ said,” insisting you instead focus on the here and now, as he is.

“Life Is Hard,” the song featured in My Own Love Song, is a tender, wistful ballad that is one of the nine tracks on the record co-written with the Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter. The understated mandolin of Mike Campbell (Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers) and the sparse production on this song (again done by Jack Frost, Dylan’s pseudonym that he uses for production credits) gives it a real “front-porch on a warm summer evening” feel, and the song breezes by smoothly. “My Wife’s Home Town” continues the theme of love and what you lose when you give in to it that is threaded throughout the record. It’s a caustic blues number that echoes Willie Dixon’s “I Just Want To Make Love To You” enough for Dylan to give Dixon a music credit for the song in the liner notes. “If You Ever Go To Houston” is one of my favorites from the album, vibrantly guided along by Hidalgo’s accordion and Dylan’s gruff but affectionate vocals. The lyrics are insightful and wary, with Dylan cautioning anyone who chooses to walk in his footsteps, “Better know where you’re going, or stay where you are… Well I know these streets, I’ve been here before/I nearly got killed here during the Mexican War.” It’s a shining lyrical example of someone who’s well aware of the things they’ve seen, but reluctant to tell you exactly what that was, instead shrouding their memories in riddle and rhyme. What more could we expect from Dylan at this point?

“Forgetful Heart” is a delicate number reminiscent of “Ain’t Talkin’” from Modern Times, and is yet another track where the gravelly voice of Dylan is boldly placed front and center in the mix, not buried beneath other instruments in an effort to perhaps mask the toll taken on his pipes over the years. Dylan appears quite comfortable with his age and the effect the years have had on him, and this is quite evident throughout this stark, revealing record. “Jolene” is a buoyant, up-tempo rocker that stomps along with Dylan’s spunky lyrics and a jangly electric guitar riff and a jaunty, potent solo that closes the song out. Dylan also quickly tosses off this line, which proves that trying to decipher his motives and meaning is ultimately a fruitless exercise: “I keep my hands in my pocket, I’m movin’ along/People think they know, but they’re all wrong.”

(uncredited “Bar” photo via Bob Dylan)

“This Dream Of You” is the only song on the record that Dylan wrote the music and the lyrics for completely on his own, and it’s a gentle, lush, Spanish-tinged number that again features the nimble accordion playing of Hidalgo and an aching violin that gives the song its fragile heart. It’s an unguarded, vulnerable song that features some of the most winsome lyrics of Dylan’s later period: “There’s a moment when all old things become new again/But that moment might have come and gone/All I have and all I know is this dream of you which keeps me living on.” And this perfectly noble couplet that seems to define his recent output and his never-ending tour: “Everything I touch seems to disappear/Everywhere I turn, you are always here/I’ll run this race until my earthly death/I’ll defend this place with my dying breath.” It’s an intuitive and astute look back (and forward) from a man who, at this point in his career, doesn’t really need to, for his career has been poured over by far greater scribes than myself. But in the end, his words carry the real weight, don’t they? Which makes this stunning, revealing track even more poignant.

The album really gets a jolt of life with “Shake Shake Mama,” which is the best straight ahead rocker that Dylan has done in years. It has a bounce and attitude to it that is refreshing and bracing, and finds Dylan arrogantly proclaiming “Some of you women you really know your stuff/But your clothes are all torn and your language is a little too rough.” Take that, Britney and the like. It’s a lively, rollicking track that might even reference a Minneapolis thoroughfare: “I’m motherless, fatherless, almost friendless too/It’s Friday morning on Franklin Avenue.” It’s a strong and confident song from an album filled with them.

“I Feel A Change Coming On” is another loose, vibrant number that finds the band arrangements subtle and nuanced, but never overwhelming, which allows Dylan’s lyrics to carry the track. And with lyrics like this, there’s no real need for musical embellishment: “Well now what’s the use in dreaming/You got better things to do/Dreams never did work for me anyway/Even when they did come true.” The dreams this man must have must be staggering, but they don’t do much for him, apparently. Must be nice. The album closes with an odd little number that finds Dylan trying his hand using the slang of the street on “It’s All Good.” It ends the record on an optimistic, upbeat note, but it still was a bit disconcerting hearing Dylan repeat the phrase “It’s all good” throughout the track, just like it was a bit jarring to hear him reference Alicia Keys on “Thunder on the Mountain.” Dylan creates this otherworldly landscape through his lyrics that a listener can truly get lost in, and when such blatant, overt examples of the “real world” seeps into his storytelling, it brings you back to reality in such a concrete way that it can be a bit off-putting. But it’s a minor complaint, really, and the album ends with Dylan whooping it up and quoting Hamlet: “I’m gonna pluck off your beard and blow it in your face/This time tomorrow I’ll be roaming in your place/I wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could/You know what they say/They say it’s all good.” Indeed it is, Bob.

Together Through Life is another stellar addition to Dylan’s revered catalog, surely helped by it’s unhurried pace and tone, as well as Dylan’s penetrating, vulnerable lyrics. Any additional work that we get from the soon-to-be 68 year old Dylan has to be considered a gift at this point, but the fact that he remains not only relevant but extremely viable is a testament not only to the stellar cast of musicians that he’s surrounded himself with, but to the sheer will and dedication of Dylan himself, who wouldn’t really want to be doing anything else, anyway. At least that’s how I read the cards he’s dealing. But the album was born out of such casual circumstances, and even surprised Columbia when they were given the word that a new Dylan record was finished. But often the best art comes from humble origins, and this album is a perfect example that not every album needs to be poured over meticulously. As Dylan so eloquently puts it, “If you’re goin’ on home, better go the shortest way.” And, if this recording represents a bit of home for Bob, I thank him for inviting us over.

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Also: Bob Dylan & His Band @ Northrop Auditorium