Bob Dylan Gets It

Bob Dylan gets it (see post High Plains Drifter). On his new album Together Through Life, Dylan captures that hot, dry spirit of the High Plains and the entire Lone Star State. Really, the whole thing feels like a drive from Houston to Laredo to Brownsville in a dusty old El Dorado convertible--stopping in borderland cantinas and reminiscing about lost love and unrealized dreams. If you care more about honesty and art than pretty pop singing, then you should open your soul to this new album. If you are a Texan by birth and/or disposition, you should take time to let this album grow in you--it doesn't grow on you, it grows in you.

Here are some excerpts, highlighting Dylan's thoughts on Texas, from a recent Rolling Stone cover story. " 'You feel things, and you're not quite sure what you feel,' Dylan says of the region. 'But it follows your every move, and you don't know why. You can't get out of it...' The album bottles the feeling of King Ranch country along Highway 77... 'Spirited guys from down there,' Dylan believes. 'Independent-thinking guys. Texas might have more independent-thinking people than any other sate in the country. And it shows in the music... I think you really have to be a Texan to appreciate the vastness of it and the emptiness of it,' Dylan says. 'But I'm an honorary Texan.' "

Dylan gets it. And so should you. If you're planning a road trip this summer, or if you just want to pretend you're on a Tex-Mex adventure, you've got to include at least a couple of tracks from Together Through Life. I'd suggest "Beyond Here Lies Nothin'," "If You Ever Go to Houston," "Jolene," and "It's All Good." The last one is a lesson in not going gentle into that good night, with lines like "Big politicians telling lies / Restaurant kitchen all full of flies / Don't make a bit of difference / Don't see why it should...it's all good."

When Dylan met French president Nicolas Sarkozy recently, the president asked Dylan where he was from. "I'm from the Lone Star State," was Dylan's reply. Then, for a gift Dylan gave the president a Texas-style belt buckle (we call 'em turkey platters). If you know that Dylan is from Minnesota, and really from nowhere, then you understand how funny it all is. But then on "I Feel a Change Comin' On" he sings, "I'm listening to Billy Joe Shaver / And I'm reading James Joyce / Some people they tell me / I've got the blood of the land in my voice." Indeed. Dylan gets it. And if you don't know who Billy Joe Shaver is, you've got some work to do.

music review bob dylan texas

Review: U2's No Line on the Horizon

I still have an excitement about digging into a new album, like a child on Christmas morning. This is especially the case with U2's new work, No Line on the Horizon. As soon as I dropped my daughter off at school, I rushed to my local vendor and plunked down 10 bones for the CD. I'll also be buying the vinyl version soon, but I'm an audiophile nerd like that. In this case, I know it will be worth it.

I'm sorry for those who will only get digital versions, particularly disappointing, gaunt little MP3s. When Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois are at the production helm, the purer and clearer the medium, the better. This is definitely the case with No Line. The band is back in grand Achtung Baby fashion--experimental, deep, atmospheric, and head-on--not that they ever left. They deserve their record number of grammys, and this album should garner more.

The title track kicks right off with a "Mysterious Ways" atmospheric groove. The guitars are in-your-face (as they often are throughout the album), and the beat is punctuated with a distant middle-eastern yelp. Lyrics like "She said, 'Time is irrelevant, it's not linear.' / Then she put her tongue in my ear," show the high-/low-minded tension that is successfully held throughout. Almost every song is very present, yet somehow transcendent--the classic genius of U2.

"Magnificent" is a great love song on the order of the aforementioned tension. It works best (for me) as a love song to God, especially with lines like, "Justified till we die, / you and I will magnify / the Magnificent." However, there is a reality of pain present among the hope, as seen in the chorus, "Only love can leave such a mark / But only love can heal such a scar."

This same mood is heaviest in "White as Snow," which borrows musically from the Advent hymn "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." The Advent theme of the hymn is carried out masterfully in this song, as seen in lines like "Who can forgive forgiveness where forgiveness is not / Only the lamb as white as snow." Yet the listener is left with the repeated, pleading confession, "If only a heart could be as white as snow."

In the same canon as these is "Moment of Surrender." It is a beautifully spiritual and contemplative marriage of music and lyric in the tradition of songs like "Bad" (from The Unforgettable Fire), "One" (Achtung Baby), and "Grace" (All That You Can't Leave Behind). Like those, this is an instant classic in that U2 sub-genre of truly sacred songs. And, like the other songs on No Line, this one pairs sacred and secular imagery to a high art, as in the line "I was speeding on the subway / through the stations of the cross...," and the varied chorus, "At the moment of surrender / Of vision over visibility / I did not notice the passersby/ and they did not notice me." These lyrics are beautifully surrounded by music that is smooth and warm, perfectly accented with a pipe organ in the mix.

Punching through the more contemplative songs are representations of that other classic U2 sub-genre, raucous anthems. The album's first release, "Get On Your Boots," is the best example. As the Obama campaign successfully used How to Destroy an Atomic Bomb's "City of Blinding Lights" as the sound of hope, "Boots" would be the convoluted reality the day after the inauguration. This song and others, like "Stand Up Comedy," are like romance firmly entrenched in reality, like dancing in the dirty rain. "Night is falling everywhere / Rockets at the fun fair / Satan loves a bomb scare / but he won't scare you," is an example of the in-your-face approach the guys are taking.

And the music is the same. The Edge's guitars are often fuzzy and grinding, and the drums are more up in the mix than ever before. The band is tight and never gets buried in the production, which is a feat considering the ethereal contributions of Eno and Lanois. But that team always makes U2 sound like a 4-piece rock band with their spirits slightly exposed.

Any weak spots are only an aesthetic disconnect between listener and band, rather than any technical or creative shortcomings. I thought the plodding chants of computer commands in "Unknown Caller" were cheesy and off-putting at first. But by the end of the song, the chanting was wrapping itself around me and I realized the humanity breaking through the technology ("Restart and re-boot yourself/ You're free to go"). And the primal mood and mixture of roughness and elegance in "Fez--Being Born" turns out to be just right. That piece is more musical art than pop-song (and what's wrong with that?), so the very gradual delivery and evolution of the lyric and music require patience, but it is only serving the song itself--being born.

When the band came out with All That You Can't Leave Behind in 2000, the headlines read "U2 Saves Rock n' Roll." I don't think rock n' roll is as much in need of saving now as it was then, but a fitting headline might be "U2 Does it Again!" If their recent work had been dismal, No Line would be a revelation. But the last two albums have been revelations. Yet, somehow, this one surpasses even those. It is consistently interesting and relevant. Edge's church-bell guitars chime as majestically as ever, and Bono's wail is as plaintive and powerful. There is a lot of fun, as in the bouncing Dylan-esque vocals of "Breathe," and yet there are painful lines like "Child drinking dirty water from a river bank / Soldier brings oranges he got out from a tank," from the Lou Reed-styled "Cedars of Lebanon." The tension of the album is the perfect expression of our times. Yet, as an expression of the human condition, it seems fitting for any time. That's good art.

Review: Chinese Democracy

In late 1987, toward the end of a decade dominated by a sabre-rattling and fear-mongering administration, glossy celebrity worship, bank scandals, and music so slick and lifeless it seemed little more than a corpse made up for its own funeral, I had a late-night revelation. I was a 16-year-old hard rock guitarist and occasional high-school student, watching "Headbanger's Ball" on MTV one weekend night, when I heard the banshee cry: You know where you are? You in the jungle, baby! You're gonna diiiiie! With Axl's scream and Slash's grinding riff I was welcomed to the jungle, where it seemed the culture had been for so long, but now the gleaming veneer was cracked and the ugly truth was punching free. Appetite for Destruction was just about a perfect album--dark ("Welcome to the Jungle", "Nightrain"); anthemic ("Paradise City"); even poppy ("Sweet Child o' Mine"); and all with the blood of 80s corruption (see "It's So Easy" and "Mr. Brownstone") running through its veins.

Now, another decade of said sabre-rattling, scandals, and gloss. And now--15 years in the making--another nearly perfect album from Guns n' Roses, Chinese Democracy. I have to admit resentment toward Axl's prima dona antics over the years, but his genius is undeniable and work like this is why we put up with him. From the opening strains of incidental noise, it is clear that this album is going to be an event. Songs like the title song, "If the World" (a perfect fit in the movie Body of Lies), and "Riad n' the Bedouins" mark an expanded scope for G n' R into a more "world" sound, employing Middle-Eastern textures and references appropriate to our times. Present in songs like "Shackler's Revenge" is the familiar mixture of Axl's overdubbed low-high vocals, which sound like his own internal split between meditative and manic! The traditional dark lyrical content is also present, as in "Shackler's" where Axl repeats, "I don't believe there's a reason/I don't believe it." There are many familiar G n' R elements keeping Chinese Democracy right in line with the "band's" catalog.

Absent, however, are Slash's riffs. Like the Rolling Stones ("Satisfaction"), G n' R used to be a "riff band," with songs like "Jungle" and "Sweet Child" (and most others) defined by Slash's opening guitar riff. The new G n' R markedly departs from such raw and traditional blues-based rock sensibilities, in exchange for drum loops and slicker production. Nevertheless, the guitar work is stellar! Axl has surrounded himself with considerable talent and, though the guitar lacks Slash's personality, the technique is flawless and there are many moments that require words like "tasty" and "elegant" and even "magnificent." And for guitarists like myself it is great to herald that, at least on Chinese Democracy, the guitar solo is back!

The few lower points on the album have to do with over-producing ("Scraped") and sentimentality ("This I Love"), though even these are buoyed by lyrical and musical inventiveness. Also, I would be remiss not to single out "Street of Dreams," perhaps the most beautiful of all of Axl's writing. Yes, the song is radio-ready, but it deserves any play it will hopefully get. A more mature "November Rain," "Dreams" moves through beautiful chord changes and uplifting guitar play that truly elevates the soul. "Better" will be a good option for rock radio, and "Catcher in the Rye" even borders on prog-rock with its various movements. Axl's lyrical craftsmanship has sharpened as the well from which he draws seems to have deepened considerably. Cliches are few and lyrics are biting, personal, gritty, and even cathartic and spiritual--often in the same song (from "Prostitute"--What would you say if I told you that I'm to blame?/What would you do if I had to deny your name?). Basically, the album's high points are many and varied--take your pick! Like any G n' R record, there is something for just about everyone.

Indeed, the entire album seems to be a concept a decade-and-a-half in the making, but somehow landing right in stride with the rapid-fire 21st century. The despair and darkness that so plagued Axl and so defined the Guns n' Roses of 1987 still lurks throughout Chinese Democracy, but there is light. The unusual song "Madagascar" employs audio from Martin Luther King Jr., sounding notes of hope (Forgive them that tear down my soul/Bless them that they might grow old), again appropriate for our times. Rumors of this album's release have been spread for years, but with its broader lyrical and musical scope, and cries for justice and healing--both personal and global--the timing of this release seems like marketing genius. Just as our ears and souls are glazing over again, Axl arrives to wail us out of musical complacency. Welcome to...Chinese Democracy!