Blonde on Blonde is the final album of Bob Dylan's mid-'60s run, after he "went electric" with the twin powerhouses of Bringing it All Back Home & Highway 61 Revisited, & before he stripped his sound to rootsy simplicity with John Wesley Harding. Although only a year had passed since Highway 61, this Dylan seems noticeably more mature, less exuberant & more world-weary, more in control of his craft. But even as there is more confidence in the songwriting, there is less confidence in Dylan's own point of view. The out-of-focus cover photo shows an artist trying to swim through the indulgences of rock stardom (I believe the album title is meant to be taken literally), the pressures of being declared a prophet by the public, the mounting need to top his own era-defining output, & just plain being 25 years old for fuck's sake. The result is an expansive (at 72 minutes, the 1st double LP in popular music history) album that amplifies both the best & worst habits of Dylan's artistry.
If you were anywhere near me in 2016 when Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize for his "contributions to American song," you know that I think conflating songwriting & poetry does a disservice to both art forms. That said, the best claim Dylan has to being a poet can be found in Blonde on Blonde's side 1 highlight "Visions of Johanna." What begins as a nocturnal portrait of disaffected young people in a hushed loft apartment becomes a comparison between 2 lovers, & eventually, between 2 states of mind: the idealized & the real. Over a reluctantly active bassline & bluesy lead guitar vamps that delicately stay out of the lyrics' way, Dylan describes Louise--who represents the thing that reminds you just enough of what you want but cannot have--with the heartstopping line "the ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face." "Visions of Johanna" is one of Dylan's most gorgeous songs & the 1st time he really achieved that balance between the conceptual & the personal.
But--but--despite being a lyrical triumph, "Visions of Johanna" is still predicated on Dylan's objectifying tendency to use women as symbols. There's nothing wrong with this in theory, but when it permeates a whole record, to the point where it even colors the album title itself, you start to wonder if it interferes with Dylan's ability to treat women as, you know, people. The arrogance that Dylan must have shown in relationships is evident in 2 companion pieces here, "One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)" & "Most Likely You Go Your Way & I'll Go Mine." Again, the musical arrangements are exciting, from the snare rolls in the former's extravagant chorus to the latter's staccato horns. But this double-header of underestimating women rehashes several of the same sentiments. Compare the former song's "I couldn't see how you could know me, but you said you knew me & I believed you did" with the latter's "You say you told me that you wanna hold me but you know you're not that strong." Dylan's seeming self-image (too complex to know, too heavy to hold) seeks to turn egotism into a positive trait compared to his lover whom he paints as dishonest & frail, not knowing her own mind.
Which brings me to--sigh--"Just Like a Woman." I have to confess that I used to really love this song as a kid. Maybe it was my 1st favorite Dylan song. I liked it for its shuffling rhythm, for the interplay between the nylon-string lead guitar & Al Kooper's gentle organ, because the harmonica part was one I could play, & because of Dylan's use of rhyme. But it didn't take long into adulthood (I believe I was younger than Bob was when he wrote it) to understand that the lyrics are absolute garbage. They come across as a rebuke of female trickery; when she's getting her way, she acts like a grown woman, but when challenged she turns into a petulant child--he even refers to her as "Baby." She's too immature, the song implies, to handle the pressure of adult relationships. This feels like a whole lot of projection. (Also there's a "my drugs are better than yours" subplot with his friendship with "Queen Mary" & her amphetamines making her "like all the rest.") To the charge that the song isn't about womanhood as a whole but rather about a specific woman: Dylan doesn't operate that way. He can't resist generalizing & universalizing. It's what he does.
Musically, Blonde on Blonde is maybe less adventurous than the previous 2 records, but more polished & confident. Lyrically, Dylan hit a sweet spot where his opaque moments felt less pretentious & his straightforward moments felt less bland. There's no denying that this is a major achievement, & I still spin it quite often--& individual songs even more so. But I don't think there's another album where Dylan's hangups about women are quite so blatant, & once you tune in it becomes impossible to ignore.
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