Reviews by kuvien

This is a three-and-a-half-hour monster of an album, so if you're sitting down to listen to this, it's the same as dedicating yourself to an opera. The first track...you can hear the ignored malaise swirling around the perimeter of the party, out in the dark away from the bright lights of the festivities. There is an underpinning of duality at work throughout this archival collection. It's no mistake, I think, that the holy presence of a martyr such as Jeanne d'Arc would sound like the roaring consummation of fire. The music is the sonic equivalent of laying your heart upon the pyre. "Crazy Nigger" (an album-length single composition) is some apocalyptic piano shit, when the last empires build their wealth upon the backs of the impoverished and downtrodden. Near the end of the piece, it sounds like a sea of voices are all speaking at once and speaking at variance with one another. Unsettling to say the least. So, which one would you be? Gay, Evil, or Crazy? As for me, definitely Evil. It is simultaneously destructive and creative, like building sand castles at high tide.

Part of the band’s purpose is to recognize where jazz came from but not adhere to the thought that the music must therefore continue to be rooted in the Western music market, which the ensemble members have criticized as being an increasingly generic industry. So a lot of these compositions are born of improv sessions focusing on the central European ideas of the Slavic witch and her rejection of, what we would now call, the patriarchy.

When Bob Dylan sings badly well, it's awesome. When he sings badly badly, it's a pass for me, dawg.

These are some damn fine folk'n'blues renditions.

Not nearly as good as the album that comes before it, this highly political album is like Dylan taking a deep breath as he looks around himself and takes stock, realizing that he and the rest of the world aren’t dead, nuked in an atomic holocaust caused by the Cuban Missile Crisis.

I love live shows like this, ones that enjoy the glee of retrospection. Like with Miles Davis in 1969 ahead of the release of Bitches Brew, Dylan goes to London to play songs from his upcoming album Blonde on Blonde. I'm sitting here listening pointing and going "ooh ooh!" because I know how legendary those songs will become.

Dylan's Christian phase is often reviled by music critics and aficionados, and sure there's a corny track or two here, but overall this is a solid album.

Egregious.

was basically already done after NYC 1974, but Dylan went back into a different studio at the last minute to re-record half the album with a different band, upping the tempo, and stepping back from the vulnerability of some of these tracks. Anger is an excellent mask, and Bob knew that well. And so these raw, honest, emotional tracks got buried for a couple decades. I've heard the official studio album a million times, and I love it, but I feel like these ten tracks—five I already know and those five lost originals—are the true album. Dylan has never ever made me cry, but this recording has made me tear up, much to my surprise. This—not the official release—is the greatest break-up album of all time, but perhaps it's for the best that Dylan re-recorded some of the songs after he cooled off. This one's a bit emotionally dangerous. For reference: the five re-recorded songs that are here preserved in their original form are “Tangled Up in Blue”, “You’re a Big Girl Now”, “Idiot Wind”, “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts”, and “If You See Her, Say Hello”.

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He met a fair maiden wrapped in chains. He offered her his hand, but she took his arm--and in that moment he knew she meant him harm. What a Dylan thing to say! Wrapped in so much mystery and yet so real and accessible. That line always astounds me. I also wonder who those princes are who keep the view on the watchtower. Don't princes usually have guards do that? What are they watching for anyway, and what are they guarding?

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Though not as good lyrically as his other albums, this one leads off with one of the greatest protest songs of all time. The overall feel of the album for me is much more focused on the beauty of the music, what with the everpresent violin and the lovely backing of Emmylou's vocals. The last track, "Sara", is a bit underwhelming, since she couldn't really have been the love of his life if he was cheating on her. Besides, Dylan stole Sara from her real husband. Anyway, that's got nothing to do with the music. The chorus of the song is a bit unimaginative, I guess that being another reason he deserved to lose Sara in the end.

"Talkin' New York" and "Song to Woody" are the only original Dylan tracks here, the former giving the listener a dose of his early talkin' blues wit, the latter exploring the lonesome, fiercely-free poetry of social consciousness.

The rest of the album is bohemian-cool nasally stripped-down harmonica/acoustic guitar renderings of classic folk and blues tunes, bedrock-songs like "In My Time of Dyin'", "Man of Constant Sorrow", and "House of the Risin' Sun". I don't go so much for covers in general, and especially not an album full of them, but folk gets a pass, because that's what folk is: handed-down music meant to be played and re-interpreted across generations.

Not my favorite Dylan album but still a great collection of storytelling tunes and talking blues. The last track is casual destruction as only Dylan can deliver it, a few lines from his notebook sending a woman home.

Though this is not labeled as a live album, keep in mind that this album is a recording of the band's November 2nd, 1972, concert at Theater 9 in Stockholm. The layered percussion keeps everything loose and easy, and the vocal ejaculations rejoice at this freedom of structure. This is one of those rare treats I find by hanging out with nerds more knowledgeable about music than I, truly a hidden gem. London, Queenstown, and Istanbul all intersect here, and the result is as glorious as you could imagine! The trio formed the band and rehearsed for only a few days before performing this album. The word "fireball" is used in the liner notes, and that words stuck with me while listening. There are creative musical explosions all over this recording, and some sear you because they come upon you unawares. Xaba is God, and God is love. And because of that truth, this trio plays its music.

Just a straight-up fun album, with a lot of variety to hold the listener's interest, ending with a beautiful, meditative vocal track, complete with yelps and trills. A perfect album for those who like deep bass grooves that sustain a rich musical soil from which soloing can grow and flourish. I'll say it again: this album is fun, the kind that's so good you shake your head in wonder as you are carried along by the... well, by the groove.

Okay, well Egypt is where these three dudes jammed this. One only of the guys is from Egypt, actually, the other two being from Libya and the States. But still. Egypt is where the magic happened. Besides, the cover art is unashamedly Egyptian. This album rocks, but what I like best is when the music leaves the rock behind and descends into some interesting experimental soundscapes. On the long seventh track, I enjoyed the breakdown of structure.

Someone made a mistake teaching this man who to read, because that meant one day he happened upon the Child ballad list and made this travesty of an album. I wish I didn't have ears.

omg as if the music wasn't boring enough, the album cover art is first-rate pandering... nice troll, guys!