In a past life, Fresh and the Qualifier used to get paid to write about music. For years they toiled through a tag-team article called Counterbalance, going head to head, hashing out the relative merits of new releases for the local Chicken Dinner Newspaper. But that was a long time ago - before the economy crashed, sending their frivolous Arts & Entertainment section down in flames.
After wandering in the wilderness, lost and directionless, Fresh and the Qualifier have returned to take on their most challenging assignment: the Greatest Albums of All-Time. Do these critics' darlings hold up, or are they just hyped up?
Robert Allen Zimmerman is a man of many faces and many names. As Bob Dylan he created Blonde on Blonde, album number seven on our great list, and cemented himself as the songwriter among a generation of songwriters. Dylan's music has been dissected every which way from Sunday. Can it stand a little bit more? Fresh and the Qualifier step into the ring with Bob Dylan's Blonde on Blonde.
Fresh: Q-Man, I'm about to commit blasphemy. I like Dylan. But I don't love Dylan. When it comes to Dylan, given my druthers, I'd rather listen to Highway 61 Revisited. When it comes to music in general, given my druthers, I'd probably choose to listen to something other than Dylan. Is there something wrong with me? Did I just cash a one-way ticket to music critic hell?
Qualifier: I'm glad you said that, Fresh. It's true that your abject blasphemy has most certainly earned you a place in rock critic hell (move over, guy from Entertainment Weekly). And while I'm sorry about that, I must thank you for blunting the force of my own transgression - I don't think Blonde on Blonde is anywhere near Dylan's best album, and I wish the criticerati would take a breath from their incessant fawning over it.
After wandering in the wilderness, lost and directionless, Fresh and the Qualifier have returned to take on their most challenging assignment: the Greatest Albums of All-Time. Do these critics' darlings hold up, or are they just hyped up?
Robert Allen Zimmerman is a man of many faces and many names. As Bob Dylan he created Blonde on Blonde, album number seven on our great list, and cemented himself as the songwriter among a generation of songwriters. Dylan's music has been dissected every which way from Sunday. Can it stand a little bit more? Fresh and the Qualifier step into the ring with Bob Dylan's Blonde on Blonde.
Fresh: Q-Man, I'm about to commit blasphemy. I like Dylan. But I don't love Dylan. When it comes to Dylan, given my druthers, I'd rather listen to Highway 61 Revisited. When it comes to music in general, given my druthers, I'd probably choose to listen to something other than Dylan. Is there something wrong with me? Did I just cash a one-way ticket to music critic hell?Qualifier: I'm glad you said that, Fresh. It's true that your abject blasphemy has most certainly earned you a place in rock critic hell (move over, guy from Entertainment Weekly). And while I'm sorry about that, I must thank you for blunting the force of my own transgression - I don't think Blonde on Blonde is anywhere near Dylan's best album, and I wish the criticerati would take a breath from their incessant fawning over it.
F: I have to tell you, that's a huge load off my shoulders. I thought there was something wrong with me - like I had gone insane but I was the only one who knew I was insane and if I opened my mouth everyone would realize I was insane and I would be institutionalized. Please, don't have me put away, I just don't get it. I don't get Zimmy in general but the position of Blonde on Blonde on the list befuddles me.
In an effort to understand this album I went out and read reviews on it until my eyes started to bleed. To keep a long, boring and bloody story very short - I came away with the impression that everybody was reading a little too far into this record. Which leads me to ask, is everybody reading into Dylan a little too far as well?
Q: Short answer, no. Dylan's lyrics do work on a number of different levels, and when he's on fire he's pretty much the best there is. I think people get hung up on the idea that his lyrics need to be deciphered, and when you crack the code they'll reveal the mysteries of the universe, the meaning of life and a few new tasty ways to cook chicken.
Most of what Bob has to say, once he got away from his protest period, is couched in riddles and wordplay. A lot of it's left up to you to sift through what sounds like gobbledy-gook to find the words that resonate with you. I find quite a bit of that on Blonde on Blonde, even at different points within the same song.
F: I don't understand anything that Bob has to say. Also, I don't like to work when it comes to listening to music. The only thing I want to "sift" for is gold or precious gems - not for the nuggets of wisdom hidden underneath the mounds of Bob's gobbledy and gook. Since we both agree that this isn't Dylan's best record, can we talk about why it's in the Top Ten? Musically, there's nothing outstanding aside from the de/reconstruction of the blues. Lyrically? Well . . .
I don't see anything revolutionary here. No sea change, no redefinition. Why is it here? Why number seven?
Q: Ooh, I really have to disagree with when you say that there's not a lot going on musically. By combining acoustic and electric sounds, plus pop and blues structures, Blonde on Blonde does in many ways form the basis for much of the roots rock that came after. Dylan's gift for melody is all over this record ("I Want You," "Just Like a Woman," "4th Time Around"), too, and I maintain that it's his ability to create great melodies that set his songs so far apart. The fact that we're able to discern them through his, uh, unconventional voice is testament to that.
But why is Blonde on Blonde at number seven instead of, say, Highway 61 Revisited? Critics like big statements. The ability to create a rockin' Guernica, a pop War and Peace - that's considered the pinnacle of the rockmaster's art.
F: Ah ha! Looks like I hit a nerve. I also forgot to mention that I think Bob Dylan is fugly and probably smells funny.
Honestly, though, I still don't see it. But I think it's because Bob Dylan permeates everything. Dylan is the sugar of the music world. Before sugar, people really didn't know how great food could taste. When sugar first made it to the western world, people flipped. It was sweet (before that the only flavors they had were salty, bitter and cheesy), it made everything better and by making everything better, it changed the world. But today, sugar is in everything, and no one cares or notices. It has gotten to the point where escaping sugar is almost impossible.
And that's the way I feel about Bob Dylan. The only way to quantify Dylan is to find the absence of Dylan. And I've never been able to find the absence of Dylan. At least not in good music, any way. Try sifting through that simile.
Q: Now that's some quality similizin', Fresh, and 100% accurate as well.
Part of the reason why I don't often reach for Blonde on Blonde when I'm looking for some Dylan can be chalked up to the sequencing of the album. First you've got the actually pretty annoying "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35," then there's the kind of plodding "Pledging My Time." After that you get "Visions of Johanna," which could have been one of Dylan's greatest songs ever if anyone had bothered to teach the bass player the chord progression (really, once you start listening for fluffed notes, it's all you can hear).
You're three quarters of the way through the first side before its first unequivocal success, the soaring "One of Us Must Know." After that, it's pretty much strength to strength, but that first 15 minutes can be a bit of a slog.
F: It's funny that you say that because on my recent trips through this album I too have been skipping past the first three songs. And I feel a bit conflicted about doing that. For me, a top ten album is a record that you should be able to listen to straight through, first note to last, with out even thinking about skipping around. But then, there is a lot of album here, cutting out those first three songs still leaves the listener with a solid hour of Dylan's jibber-jabber, more than enough for anyone. I think I'll amend my iTunes library and make Dylan work for me, not the other way around. He'd be down with that, right?
Q: Bob is more than willing to work for you these days, from amending your iTunes library to everyday yard work. He's really mellowed in recent years. He might not even mind you calling his magnum opus "jibber-jabber."
I'll be interested to see how your Bobophobia plays out as we make our way through this list - he's on here no fewer than 23 times.
F: Ohhhh, mama . . .
In an effort to understand this album I went out and read reviews on it until my eyes started to bleed. To keep a long, boring and bloody story very short - I came away with the impression that everybody was reading a little too far into this record. Which leads me to ask, is everybody reading into Dylan a little too far as well?
Q: Short answer, no. Dylan's lyrics do work on a number of different levels, and when he's on fire he's pretty much the best there is. I think people get hung up on the idea that his lyrics need to be deciphered, and when you crack the code they'll reveal the mysteries of the universe, the meaning of life and a few new tasty ways to cook chicken.
Most of what Bob has to say, once he got away from his protest period, is couched in riddles and wordplay. A lot of it's left up to you to sift through what sounds like gobbledy-gook to find the words that resonate with you. I find quite a bit of that on Blonde on Blonde, even at different points within the same song.
F: I don't understand anything that Bob has to say. Also, I don't like to work when it comes to listening to music. The only thing I want to "sift" for is gold or precious gems - not for the nuggets of wisdom hidden underneath the mounds of Bob's gobbledy and gook. Since we both agree that this isn't Dylan's best record, can we talk about why it's in the Top Ten? Musically, there's nothing outstanding aside from the de/reconstruction of the blues. Lyrically? Well . . .
I don't see anything revolutionary here. No sea change, no redefinition. Why is it here? Why number seven?
Q: Ooh, I really have to disagree with when you say that there's not a lot going on musically. By combining acoustic and electric sounds, plus pop and blues structures, Blonde on Blonde does in many ways form the basis for much of the roots rock that came after. Dylan's gift for melody is all over this record ("I Want You," "Just Like a Woman," "4th Time Around"), too, and I maintain that it's his ability to create great melodies that set his songs so far apart. The fact that we're able to discern them through his, uh, unconventional voice is testament to that.
But why is Blonde on Blonde at number seven instead of, say, Highway 61 Revisited? Critics like big statements. The ability to create a rockin' Guernica, a pop War and Peace - that's considered the pinnacle of the rockmaster's art.
F: Ah ha! Looks like I hit a nerve. I also forgot to mention that I think Bob Dylan is fugly and probably smells funny.
Honestly, though, I still don't see it. But I think it's because Bob Dylan permeates everything. Dylan is the sugar of the music world. Before sugar, people really didn't know how great food could taste. When sugar first made it to the western world, people flipped. It was sweet (before that the only flavors they had were salty, bitter and cheesy), it made everything better and by making everything better, it changed the world. But today, sugar is in everything, and no one cares or notices. It has gotten to the point where escaping sugar is almost impossible.
And that's the way I feel about Bob Dylan. The only way to quantify Dylan is to find the absence of Dylan. And I've never been able to find the absence of Dylan. At least not in good music, any way. Try sifting through that simile.
Q: Now that's some quality similizin', Fresh, and 100% accurate as well.
Part of the reason why I don't often reach for Blonde on Blonde when I'm looking for some Dylan can be chalked up to the sequencing of the album. First you've got the actually pretty annoying "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35," then there's the kind of plodding "Pledging My Time." After that you get "Visions of Johanna," which could have been one of Dylan's greatest songs ever if anyone had bothered to teach the bass player the chord progression (really, once you start listening for fluffed notes, it's all you can hear).
You're three quarters of the way through the first side before its first unequivocal success, the soaring "One of Us Must Know." After that, it's pretty much strength to strength, but that first 15 minutes can be a bit of a slog.
F: It's funny that you say that because on my recent trips through this album I too have been skipping past the first three songs. And I feel a bit conflicted about doing that. For me, a top ten album is a record that you should be able to listen to straight through, first note to last, with out even thinking about skipping around. But then, there is a lot of album here, cutting out those first three songs still leaves the listener with a solid hour of Dylan's jibber-jabber, more than enough for anyone. I think I'll amend my iTunes library and make Dylan work for me, not the other way around. He'd be down with that, right?
Q: Bob is more than willing to work for you these days, from amending your iTunes library to everyday yard work. He's really mellowed in recent years. He might not even mind you calling his magnum opus "jibber-jabber."
I'll be interested to see how your Bobophobia plays out as we make our way through this list - he's on here no fewer than 23 times.
F: Ohhhh, mama . . .
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