Piano music

In the liner notes to 1974 s Blood on the Tracks , widely regarded as Bob Dylan s greatest album, Pete Hamill tells us that, when talking of or thinking about Dylan, we should ignore the clenched young scholars who analyse his rhymes into dust.

As such, it s very hard to find myself feeling like a young scholar, and especially hard to brand myself as clenched.

Nonetheless, Dylan s latest album does need to be commented on, especially as there has been, to my mind, a knee-jerk reaction of critical love over it which is not particularly deserved.

Perhaps it s the lack of decent singer songwriters these days that has made people nostalgic. James Blunt and

Jack Johnson s tedious, prozac-esque mumblings have doubtless made some critics yearn for a singer songwriter with a little more bite, but this cannot wholly explain things as Dylan has not been a solo acoustic strummer for forty years now, discounting his early nineties work such as Good As I Been To You.

So maybe it s the veneration of legends that has caused this album to garner such praise. Five stars for Dylan the legend, rather than the album he has created.

Whatever the reason, Modern Times has received glowing praise despite the fact that it just isn t that great.

The best way to describe the tone of Bob s latest offering is as a perfect blend

of his previous two albums; the genuinely excellent Time Out Of Mind and the even better Love and Theft. The problem is, in mixing the two, he seems to have thrown away the good stuff and kept the weaker parts of both albums.

Time Out Of Mind , for all it s lyrical poise and cynical insight, suffered from occasionally muddled and murky sound, due to Daniel U2 Lanois swampy, echo-laden production. Modern Times , despite being produced by Dylan s alter-ego Jack Frost, struggles with the same murky, half-assed feel to the songs. It s not that the band is so echoey or sludgey in it s sound, there just seems

to be a vibe of laziness which some critics have called relaxed and which I personally refer to as dull.

Love and Theft , meanwhile, was sonically brilliant. A vibrant, ballsy road-band sound combined with Dylan s vocals, a combination or roaring braggadocio and growling, wise-assed wisdom from a seasoned hustler.

The only minor flaw with Love and Theft was that some of the songs felt under-written. The wit that was in evidence frequently came at the expense of coherence. Some of Dylan s lyrics were composed of stream-of-consciousness rhyming couplets without any real connection to anything at all. This was a minor quibble with an album as strong as Love and Theft ,

but proves to be a crippling flaw in Modern Times.

Every song on Modern Times seems to have no focus whatsoever. Whilst some critics are praising Dylan s ability to cover diverse subjects within a song, it comes off in all honesty like someone just throwing whatever he feels like into a song and hoping it pays off. When Dylan chooses to be surreal and rambling, he almost always accomplishes it with a sense of perverse internal logic (the hysterical and nonsensical Bob Dylan s 115th Dream from Bringing it All Back Home , right up to the 15 minute odyssey of 1997 s Highlands), but on Modern Times , the songs

feel patchy and almost made up on the spot.

Indeed, there are no songs whatsoever on Modern Times that seem to have a coherent plot or theme.

The other major problem with the album is that, even when it feels like it s been made up on the spot, it s still not particularly original, which is a crime when we consider the source.

The opening song, Thunder on the Mountain , feels like a Chuck Berry cover by a swing band, and in no way should that be taken as a compliment.

Rolling and Tumbling , meanwhile, has Muddy Waters doing both in his grave (the Theft on Love and Theft was charming and contained

a knowing wink, here it s just shameless) and fills the latter s potent blues with the same interminable cobbled-together couplet musings.

Robert Johnson is heavily lifted from, but often with the sort of lazy rhyming scheme that I’ve already discussed. Like Johnson on “They’re Red Hot”, Dylan plans to “Sleep in the kitchen with [his] feet in the hall”, but then drains whatever life is left from the pilfered line with the lazy clich “sleep is like a temporary death.” Surely the legendary poet can come up with something less hackneyed than this?!

If not, it’s only a matter of time before the critics catch on again.

In summation: A so-so effort from a musical great, who needs to start writing

songs again and stop being so damned lazy in all departments.