The Album Review Club - Week #147 - (page 1942) - Blonde On Blonde - Bob Dylan

WTF!
I know I’m going to have to read that again, but if this is what it makes you feel and this is a 10 for you, I’m conflicted between wondering how melancholic you are feeling, yourself and if you’d like to talk.
That and my own feelings of, maybe I won’t play this in the car tomorrow, myself, as I’ve had an odd year and this mightn’t be the best travelling companion.

Are you ok mate?
We’re all friends here. ;-)
I'm fine mate thanks. The melancholy of the album reminded me of my mate and they were happy memories on the whole. I probably wouldn't play it whilst you're driving as it's more dull than sad. I like my misery much more hyperbolic
 
The power of music.

Although I'm a little confused, it's a 4 until he remember Derek might have liked it.

And people wonder about my scoring system...
Even the 4 is confused. If I remember right I have the struts a 5 but if I had to pick one to listen to a couple more times it would be this one. It's a 4 for the music and a 10 for my friend. Rob can stick a 4 in his spreadsheet if he feels it more accurate
 
I'm fine mate thanks. The melancholy of the album reminded me of my mate and they were happy memories on the whole. I probably wouldn't play it whilst you're driving as it's more dull than sad. I like my misery much more hyperbolic
That’s convinced me.
It’s Rory all the way today.
Souped up Ford,….. all the way to Westport.
 
This album has left me deeply conflicted. It seems to be deliberately dull but it seems to very accurately reflect the artist. Admittedly I know tap all about him or Pink Floyd or anything but judging from the few lyrics escaping his nasal cavity he seems to be confessing his own dullness.

Against the Odds which may or may not have been written with his wife definitely describes his marriage breaking up. It's delivered incredibly impassionately like they have been arguing about the correct spelling of the colour grey/gray and now can't eat breakfast together.

In Summer Elegy he writes "this song has no end" and you feel it. Not because it is delivered with any kind of conviction but because you just really want this thing to end. Unironically he writes that "too many words fill my mind" on an album that is full of instrumentals. He drinks too absent friends not realising that everyone else is still friends but they just stopped inviting him out because he loves to talk about all the different grit sandpaper he owns.

To be fair Waves does sound like waves washing gently upon a beach somewhere and has a nice little skip in it. It's actually in these small moments that the album has some merit and there's a good chance I'm just too cynical and blunt to get it. Wright is demonstrating the proper way to construct a perfectly fit dovetail whereas I want to just stick a couple of nails in it and be done.

I'll mention Holiday briefly because it sets up a line for me later on. It's message is a little confused as it starts with a plea to take a holiday, suddenly he exposes his own lack of conviction and general malaise before the song takes a bit of a positive slant without anything really changing.

Mad Yannis Dance retreads some of the same ground as Waves and like Cat Cruise fails to live up to it's title. I keep expecting and hoping for a Baba O'Riley style breakdown but it never comes. It is probably worth considering this album as a long piece of music rather than a collection of individual songs as the same piano patterns repeat throughout and the electric guitar and sax remain tonally stubborn.

Drop In From The Top attempts to do something slightly different as though the above mentioned holiday was taken at a Caribbean resort which Wright stubbornly refused to leave in case a pineapple fell on his head. His wife though went out and got a braid in her air which left Wright reeling - she's mad that one. That night as he anxiously smoked a cigarette on the balcony of his hotel a taxi went past. Through the open window of the cab he heard the snippet of a song he couldn't quite remember in the studio as he and the band jammed this out.

Then just as I'm about to rank this a 4 Pink's Song suddenly reminds me of my mate Derek. Derek was 20 years my senior and when I first met him he was on his way to commit suicide. He felt like life had done him dirty. He had married a much younger woman who had unexpectedly asked for a divorce. He'd moved into a tiny flat and was eking out a living making wedding videos. Every video he made reminded him of what he had lost and all his energy had been consumed by a deep sadness. He'd once ran a successful chain of bingo halls and started a pet ambulance business but all that conviction and confidence had left him with just a comb over and an Amiga.

He drove a Toyota Yaris and he'd installed a sound system in it worth more than the car. He'd often invite me into his car to listen to something he was really excited by. He never played me this but no doubt if he'd owned it he would have. I would politely admire the tunes and his car which he was so proud of mainly because Derek was the kind of guy who really wanted you to like what he liked and if you didn't he would get quite upset. The boot was full of car cleaning products and he was so meticulous with his own car that he eventually ran a small business cleaning the cars of beautiful women who worked for the now defunct clothing company Misguided.

When he got sick with cancer i was 100% not a good enough friend but he still held me in a higher regard than I deserved. He was in and out of hospital and I would sometimes pick him up in my car. He would admonish me for how untidy it was and vowed to leave me his Yaris when he passed away.

He kept his promise and I drove his car full of cleaning products for more than a year. My hands would smell of the cologne he wore that had seeped into the steering wheel and I'd listen to the mix cd he had made me make him. When it finally packed in I sold it for £50. It was worth so much more - not as a vehicle but as a testament to him.

I had made some invites to his memorial service and had a picture of him on my computer. My four year old somehow managed to change the title of the file to "Dead Derek" which he would have been gravely offended by but which never fails to make my family laugh.

Like the car this album smells of him and he would have really enjoyed it. So in honour of him and because I'll forever now call it "Dead Derek's Album" it gets a 10.

Jeez Louise. Maybe you Shouldn't listen to Painting of a Panic Attack after all!
 
I don't know if I'm more amazed at how fast you are in reviewing an album each and every week, or your innate ability to tie it into something that is so emotional and insightful that I probably would never reach.

You and I both love Radiohead, and when I read how you interpret an album, it makes me know that I'm both on the right side of history on appreciating good music (I don't want to hear it, naysayers!), and there's still hope for me to sense it to the degree that you do.

Sorry to hear about your mate, I know he'd be proud of how you've honoured him. Since you are done with the album, you should definitely give "Wearing the Inside Out" a spin, because Richard has done well to capture isolation and despair and coming back out of it.

"This bleeding heart's, not beating much."

"And with these words, I can see, clear through the clouds that covered me"
I normally have a first listen at work whilst I'm tidying stuff up and doing menial repetitive stuff. Then I bike home so it gets my second listen then and when Im making dinner. I'll normally stick a few notes in my phone and look at the lyrics more. Third listen in the evening and then I'll write the review whilst skimming through the tracks.

Thankful to have the memory of my mate for this one as i was struggling to be moved by it. It was on the third listen and the line "Let me go, I cannot stay" that triggered me into an uncharitable thought that no one would really stop him leaving because he's kind of a buzzkill and a mope but also demanded attention. Derek was like that - no conversation was quick and he was the personification of mope but you could see glimpses of who he had used to be. He knew all the staff in his local Morrisons and if he'd found a new flavour yoghurt or something he'd like he would bring you some to share in his enjoyment. You'd hear him on the phone to who you assumed was a friend just to find out it was the bank or a salesman. He just could only sustain that in short bursts before he'd get back to moping.

I stopped listening to Radiohead just before Kid A came out and then "rediscovered" them early last year. No matter what Foggy says I think they are incredible. I get why people find them pretentious but if you read my reviews I have a penchant for that :) also if you carefully read my reviews there is a formula

1) unfairly fixate on a minor aspect of a lyric or musical choice
2) take that minor thing into an absurd place
3) throw in a personal anecdote to try and make myself sound more interesting
4) make it much too long (like a Radiohead song)
 
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Jeez Louise. Maybe you Shouldn't listen to Painting of a Panic Attack after all!
Ha I almost put that on yesterday morning whilst waiting for the new album to drop but instead listened to a podcast review of Guitar Town as it had been a pick on here recently. Thankfully they disliked it so it always nice to have your opinions validated :) it's on my list of things to try though.
 

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