BOB DYLAN
Rough And Rowdy Ways
(Columbia)
In 2012, Bob Dylan released his 35th
studio album Tempest. The collection was
loaded with potent songs like “Pay in
Blood,” “Scarlet Town,” and “Early
Roman Kings” that served Dylan well
during stops on his Never Ending Tour.
The album earned stellar marks from
musicologists, but despite a strong launch
did not receive the public attention it merited.
The rough-hewn singer spent the
next several years lending grit to the catalog
of his velvet-voiced hero Frank Sinatra
with 2015’s Shadows in the Night and
2016’s Fallen Angels. 2017’s sprawling
Triplicate dug deeper into the Great
American Songbook. Casual fans sat baffled
at concerts as the Bard crooned standards
like “Autumn Leaves” and “Young
at Heart,” even as his stellar live band
delivered gorgeous performances of these
chestnuts–including stirring solos by
Charlie Sexton. Longtime fans expected
the mercurial folk legend to do as he
pleased in his own playground while they
waited to hear “Tangled Up in Blue.” If
there was any motivation on Dylan’s part
to build anticipation during this
exploratory stretch for new original material,
it worked. Rough and Rowdy Ways
arrived last week to acclaim as a #1
album. That’s good news for Bob. The
good news for fans is that Dylan indeed
pulled no punches and crafted a knockout
set. It’s not as dark and deadly as Tempest,
but Rough and Rowdy Ways is just as sharp
in its variety while making room for wisdom,
perspective, cranky observation,
wit, and a century’s worthy of pop culture
references alongside those familiarly grim
musings. The 17-minute “Murder Most
Foul” (Dylan’s longest song in a catalog
famous for some very long songs) accommodates
all of the above, as Dylan returns
to the 1963 assassination of President
Kennedy and uses it as the foundation for
his stream-of-consciousness description
of the troubled state of the union up to the
present day. In addition to its steely-eyed
retelling of Kennedy’s death, the undulating
song finds redemption in a soothing
string of Easter-egg references to songs,
artists, and musical flashpoints spanning
Dylan’s favorite genres. The album benefits
mightily from the intuitive interplay
of a seasoned band that tracked the songs
together live, hot on the heels of a threemonth
trek that stunned the crowd at UIC
Pavilion last October. The wry statement
of self “I Contain Multitudes” is rooted in
rustic Americana but shifts craftily with
wisps of the torch-pop Dylan internalized
on Triplicate–while namechecking “those
British bad boys the Rolling Stones.” The
band never overplays, but unfailingly
provides a captivating and spacious
palette upon which Dylan can unfurl his
gravel-etched prose. Sometimes the players
support through contradiction.
During one good-natured warm and
inviting passage led by Donnie Herron’s
lilting pedal steel, Dylan gets venomous.
“You greedy old wolf, I’ll show you my
heart,” he states with bravado and
clenched fists. “But not all of it, only the
hateful part.” Guitarists Sexton and Bob
Britt intertwine with sly rhythm and a
bawdy riff both borrowed from Billy “The
Kid” Emerson’s 1954 “If Lovin’ Is
Believing” during “False Prophet.” Over
drummer Matt Chamberlain’s ambling
shuffle, Dylan declares that he’s seen it all
and is willing to tell hard truths about the
turmoil around all of us. “I'm just here to
bring vengeance on somebody's head,” he
growls. Dylan casts himself as Dr.
Frankenstein as the band spins a swirling
and eerie soundtrack for the cinematic
“My Own Version of You.” During “Black
Rider,” Dylan tells a shadowy tormentor
to kiss off. At first he seems fearful, but
grows bolder when the brigand turns
chummy. “Don't hug me, don't flatter me,
don't turn on the charm,” Dylan sneers.
“I'll take a sword and hack off your arm.”
The song contains another singularly outrageous
turn of phrase and condemnation
that will coax shocked laughter from anyone
who still imagines Dylan as the
young folkie singing “Blowin’ in the
Wind” in 1963. Check out the song. You’ll
know it when you hear it. The band shines
again on the shuffling roadhouse blues
“Goodbye Jimmy Reed,” propelled by
Chamberlain and longtime sideman Tony
Garnier’s loping bass. Dylan’s lyrics gather
old-time religion, rustic blues, desire,
and survival as an unrepentant iconoclast.
The band crafts a shimmering and tranquil
setting for “Key West,” a light-hearted
description of a veritable paradise for
any philosopher pirate. Herron’s accordion
conjures summer breeze, straw hats
and piña coladas. “If you lost your mind,
you’ll find it there,” sings Dylan, wistfully.
Dylan is resolute and persistent during
“Crossing the Rubicon,” a song that seems
to tap the tenor of the times. “What are
these dark days I see?,” Dylan asks. It’s
another lanky blues musing that over-
another lanky blues musing that overflows
with turns of phrase to make any nimbletongued
street poet nod in respect. “I’ll cut
you up with a crooked knife,” Dylan
warns. “Lord, and I’ll miss you when
you’re gone.”
At 79, Bob Dylan has focused all of his
experience and crafted what any engaged
fan could credibly claim as his or her
favorite Dylan album. We can hope that it
won’t take another eight years for another
new set. If it does, any weatherman who
knows which way the wind blows would
suggest that it’ll be worth the wait. But you
won’t need to hear it from that guy.
– Jeff Elbel
9
MICHAEL McDERMOTT
What in The World...
(Pauper Sky)
(Chicago’s Americana and folk-rock
hero Michael McDermott’s 15th solo
album finds his songwriting sharp and full
of fire. The high-spirited title track of What
in the World… is a thundering folk-rock
anthem for the election year that unleashes
a torrential flood of words a la Bob Dylan’s
“Subterranean Homesick Blues,” railing
against the “dark days coming for the
USA.” McDermott’s lengthy list includes
kids in cages, welfare for billionaires, and
every social conflict predating the coronavirus
pandemic. “It’s pretty clear that the
President’s a criminal,” the acknowledged
patriot pointedly states, in case you
weren’t sure of his position. “What in the
world is happening here?,” he asks, more
than rhetorically. “New York, Texas” is
gentler by comparison. It’s the song of itinerant
souls that may not have hope, but are
looking for it. Ghosts of the past encourage
a couple on the move to find reasons to be
grateful. “Blue Eyed Barmaid” is a tavern
tale from a songwriter who no longer visits
the pub to drink, but maintains a keen eye
for the traits and details that make true-life
characters their own compelling universes.
This particular subject of indelible memory
“never heard of Del Amitri, but she loved
Car Seat Headrest.” The song’s tumbling
acoustic guitar arpeggios hint at the popsavvy
of Paul Simon’s “Graceland.” “I
wasted so much time waiting for things I’ll
never get,” sings McDermott in “The
Things You Want,” when the necessary
things “are standing oh so near.” It’s another
reminder to be present, mindful, and
appreciative of things and people during
the fleeting time that we have them – even
in challenging relationships with parents,
etc. “The Veils of Veronica” is a haunted
memory of a broken soul adrift and weary
of the world, and those who cherished and
wanted to save her. Reflective piano and
muted pedal steel carry the current of “Die
with Me.” The song reflects and mourns an
elder’s love that will be lost to time when
the singer passes. However, it concludes
with McDermott’s belief in the next generation’s
ability to evolve and shed
entrenched biases and hatred. At the other
end of the spectrum is the grim swamprocker
“Mother Emanuel,” focusing on the
cold-hearted 2015 church shooting in
Charleston, South Carolina. The characters
include a killer with his vision of civil war
and without care for the personal costs for
those left behind. Others include the ones
left bereft, who nonetheless offer forgiveness
in the face of unthinkable loss. The
episode showed humanity at its coldhearted
worst. But as President Obama
wrote at the time, it also revealed that the
“decency and goodness of the American
people shines through in these families.”
The rollicking “No Matter What” takes a
backward look at life misspent with drink
and drugs, and the common refrain that
made it seem like another person’s life: “I
was still drinking then.” McDermott offers
brotherhood and encouragement to anyone
facing a similar fight. “Don’t give up
no matter what,” he sings. “You’re worth
it.” “Until I Found You” is a sweet
acoustic-based song of thanks for all of the
life lessons learned when the right companion
finally entered McDermott’s life.
The singer exits with shades of Bruce
Springsteen during “Positively Central
Park.” He’s not sure what comes after this
life, but wants to build a loving bond worthy
of eternal memory and hallowed
ground. At the heart of What in the World…
is the confessional and self-deprecating
“Contender.” The song’s uptempo and festive
swing is a diversionary tactic paired
with a lyric that recalls youthful dreams
and ambitions, followed by self-inflicted
wounds. The bouncing pulse is elevated
with Rich Parenti’s jaunty saxophone and
its hints of Clarence Clemons’ work with
the E Street Band, even while McDermott
accepts the notion that he didn’t become
the type of boss he might have wished.
While he may not have become the
Next Big Thing that some predicted upon
the release of 620 W. Surf nearly 30 years
ago, McDermott’s still in the fight and producing
his best material on his own terms
and under his own considerable power, in
the tradition of Chicago saints like Steve
Goodman and John Prine. What in the
World… collects clear-headed and relatable
examinations of troubles and joys–from
within and without–and does so with intelligence,
heart, and melody. (michaelmcdermott.com)
– Jeff Elbel
8
MARVIN GAYE
More Trouble
(Motown/UMe)
For the many fans of Marvin Gaye’s
soulful soundtrack to 1972 blaxploitation
film Trouble Man, this LP-only release of
More Trouble will be an essential companion.
As advertised, More Trouble expands
upon the musical story behind the influential
musical score with alternate takes, different
edits, and Gaye’s vocal versions of
“Theme from Trouble Man” and “’T’
Stands for Trouble.” The theme song was
featured in the film’s opening sequence,
but without the vocal performance as
heard here. Gaye’s lyric during a Take 1
recording of “Poor Abbey Walsh, Part 2”
reveals the fate of a hapless characterter.
U nedited
versions of Continued on page 26
24 illinoisentertainer.com july 2020