Bob Dylan – Minneapolis 1961 Review

Odds and ends are the best bits for seasoned Bob Dylan fans. Where else can you hear a spritely Dylan sound like a chain smoker on a cover of Candy Man? Right here. In Minneapolis 1961 is what it says on the tin. Or is it? It should be an offering of recordings nabbed from Dylan’s time in Minneapolis, those early bootleg spots which paved the way to Great White Wonder. The Dylan YouTube channel moves in mysterious ways, like God or a blind shark. Here lay some deep cuts, out-of-place recordings and pre-debut pieces which were left well alone. But here they are. Cobbled together with no place to go. It brings early comfort to what sounds more like home demos and toying around than solid. 

But to hear the process of building towards that first record is a real joy. A treat not for the ears, for the quality here is less-than-stellar, but for the heart. Fill yourselves with the warmth of early recordings and wilder, out-there instrumentals. Candy Man relies on its harmonica interludes while Baby Please Don’t Go has Dylan feel his way through percussion and its impact on his sound, something he would not quite utilise throughout his career. But here the stomp and holler-like tone are a suitable accompaniment to the sounds of a man refining his various moments and sparks of creativity. Stealin’ has a cockiness to it found in the affair whistled through by Dylan, his lighter flourishes of contemporary folk masking the harsher side of his story. He does it well through In Minneapolis 1961 and it would be a defining trait of his work in the 1960s.  

Blueprints is not quite the word for what Dylan does here but it does have the feeling of those early marks of interest. Take those live recordings like It’s Hard to Be Blind or compilation closer Black Cross and you hear the readiness of an artist working out the charm of his sound. Bolder moments can be heard within this collection. It is not like Dylan rid himself of daring musical choices but there is something wilder about this unrefined, early stage. He did not dip his toes into these waters again and yet suits them just fine. Dylan separates himself from the rest of the pack by moving on from the covers and raging storms of expected country efforts, and he is all the better for it. Man of Constant Sorrow serves as a point of no return, so different here from how it sounded on the self-titled debut. 

For those wanting to hear the final stages of a creative process and a trailblazing career coming to a head, look no further than In Minneapolis 1961. Little snippets from the Vd pieces form an impression of these early touring days. Clubhouses and little stages in random cafés across the country housed the burning consistencies Dylan was still uncovering. These are the joys of these early works, incredible for those who want to learn a little more about this recording process. In Minneapolis 1961 has all the joys of those blunt, early moments. Unrefined bits of the man who would capture the decade just a few years later. Incredible stuff for those sifting through the annals of interesting material.