In the history of rock 'n' roll, no artist has reinvented himself with as much frequency and variety as Bob Dylan. Over the course of 30-some albums, Dylan has worn the guise of idealist protest singer, amphetamine-jacked surrealist, born-again Christian and heartbroken acoustic master, and thrown out so many classic songs his failures simply fade away.
With his latest album, Modern Times, Dylan has once again successfully reestablished himself —this time as an elder statesman of country and blues. Viewed as third in a trilogy with Time Out of Mind and Love and Theft, the album is easily as good as his two prior efforts, swaying with the rhythm of a legend who, after 40 years, still owes nothing to anyone but himself.
For Modern Times, Dylan—in his typical contradictory style—has brought the past to the present, playing songs that vibrate with the influence of artists like Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry and Wanda Jackson. It was this American rockabilly that turned a teenage Dylan into a rock star hopeful, and now that he's joined them as an idol, he has also joined them in terms of style.
Dylan's career has always depended on two sides of the scale—high energy and wistful thought—and both are well represented. ""Thunder on the Mountain,"" the album's first track, has a musical energy not seen since his Traveling Wilburys days and a revitalized poetic nature, stringing together orphan armies and gunshots with Alicia Keys and the Sept. 11 attacks.
Unfortunately, Dylan tips the scale unfavorably by spending too much time on vintage-styled ballads. ""Spirit on the Water"" and ""Beyond the Horizon,"" while beautifully rendered tracks, sound far too similar to each other and slow the album down on a complete listen. ""When the Deal Goes Down"" is almost too sentimental for its own good, with a rhythm that could have been pulled from the Cole Porter songbook.
Indeed, Dylan's voice—equally revered and criticized by the music world—has not gotten any stronger at 65, taking on a weathered gravelly timbre that sounds like his vocal chords could take the rough edges off a piece of wood. It certainly won't win over anyone who prefers the young Midwestern cynic, but it's perfect for the vintage dancehall feel of ""Rollin' and Tumblin'"" and the ""Desolation Row""-style ethereal images of the excellent closing track ""Ain't Talkin'.""
It's also a relief to hear that, despite its weathering, the voice of his generation can call up his typical shrouded images of changing times. ""The Levee's Gonna Break"" is a prime example.
Where most other songwriters would turn it into a mournful ballad on Hurricane Katrina, Dylan writes a jazz tune about a love affair with positive lines like ""Few more years of hard work, then there'll be a thousand years of happiness.""
It may not be this generation's Highway 61 Revisited or Blood on the Tracks, but by his lyrics it is clear Dylan didn't mean it that way: ""I did all I could, I did it right there and then / I've already confessed—no need to confess again.""
Modern Times isn't a revolution; it's just a solidly produced album with a mix of songs equally suited to quiet romantic evenings or cross-country road trips. The master is still among us, and it's to the benefit of our own modern times he's still producing music of this caliber.
