Bob Dylan is always full of surprises. After releasing an album trilogy of Sinatra-style easy listening classics in the 2010s, it looked like it was curtains for any further studio LPs of original material, and then out of the blue Dylan released Rough & Rowdy Ways during the dark days of Covid. And now, in 2022, after many years of Dylan fans clamouring for a follow-up to his "autobiography" Chronicles: Volume One (2004), he decides instead to publish The Philosophy of Modern Song.
For the book, Nobel Prize in Literature winner Dylan has picked 66 songs that take us on a whistlestop tour of 20th century pop music. With the focus heavily on American recording artists – notably Elvis, Bobby Darin, Little Richard, Willie Nelson and Sinatra – Dylan gets under the skin of each song, while also using them as a jumping-off point to muse on eternal themes such as love, faith, growing old and passing beyond the veil.
How modern are Dylan's selections? He definitely stretches the definition of the word, with selections from as early as the 1920s (such as Uncle Dave Macon's Keep My Skillet Good & Greasy), along with a heavy focus on the 50s & 60s. I think Dylan's meaning of modern here is similar to its use in modern art (denoting the period from 1860s onwards) and nothing at all to do with its contemporary usage as meaning the present or recent past.
In terms of musical styles, there are references to more modern genres like punk, including song selections from Elvis Costello (Pump It Up) and The Clash (London's Calling), as well as the occasional mention of hip hop and even heavy metal, which he memorably compares to bluegrass (writing that the latter is "more adventurous" and "without the embarrassment of Spandex"). However, the overriding focus is on older genres like folk, blues, easy listening, country and soul.
And why 66 songs? It's clear Dylan didn't plan to write a comprehensive survey of the best modern pop songs – noticeably absent in the book are many of his singer-songwriter contemporaries such as Joni Mitchell, Neil Young and Leonard Cohen, as well as groups like The Beatles and The Beach Boys. Instead, the choices are very personal, with Dylan using each of the 66 songs as a springboard to inhabit the characters portrayed in the lyrics, and then taking a step back to philosophise and compose essays on a series of themes in a way that's reminiscent of his Theme Time Radio Hour shows.
His choices vary from American standards (Blue Moon, Blue Suede Shoes, Blue Bayou) to country classics (El Paso, Your Cheatin' Heart, Pancho & Lefty), legendary soul music (I Got A Woman, If You Don't Know Me By Now) and obscure musical selections from the margins of musical history (The Fugs' CIA Man, Charlie Poole's Old & Only In The Way, John Trudell's Doesn't Hurt Anymore). Dylan's essay on Townes Van Zandt's life & songwriting was one of the book's many highlights for me.
There are occasional excursions outside the realm of Americana, with Dylan pointing to the European roots of some of his song selections (Mack The Knife, Beyond The Sea, Volare), as well as the influence of Classical music on many modern pop melodies (pp185-8). Sometimes Dylan also lets his guard down and lets autobiographical details slip in, such as in his essay on Willie Nelson's On The Road Again (p92), when he talks about the benefits of perpetually being on tour ("The thing about being on the road is that you're not bogged down by anything. Not even bad news. You give pleasure to other people and you keep your grief to yourself").
Occasionally Dylan does also stray into modern politics, such as his contention that America’s decline resulted from drugs (p223), his attack on progressive "witchy" women (p253) and his railing against PC culture when listing his favourite films, such as High Noon, Ace In The Hole, On The Waterfront, The Heiress and 12 Angry Men. Dylan probably wouldn't take too kindly to any criticism of his book as lacking in sufficient female representation, with only a few making the cut such as Nina Simone (Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood) and Cher (Gypsies, Tramps & Thieves).
Most striking for me though were the book's occasional moments of lyricism and insight, on topics such as religion’s mysterious power (p97), how some songs simply belong to their owners (p150), how musical performance can be a substitute for therapy (p252), as well as reflections on the treatment of the old (p266) and the magic of lyrics being perfectly wed to music (p275), along with musings on (mis)communication (pp297-8) and faith & gambling (p309). The book also closes with a wonderful paragraph on the power of music that genuinely moved me.
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