There is no shortage of live or outtake experience from Bob Dylan. Those bootlegs are never going to dry up, it would seem. And yet there are few which stand above the rest, in this instance for what it can be connected to than anything found within. Great White Wonder was, as its title suggested, a wonder. A genuine shift in how audiences could experience their favourite artists. We were no longer tethered or led by what a studio or artist wanted us to hear and this practice of recording concerts to distribute to the public at large has blossomed with the introduction of technology capable of fitting in your pocket, recording the show, and uploading to online platforms. It is a revolution taken for granted. Even now, we can listen to the old methods of bootlegging through YouTube uploads. Case in point, A Rare Batch of Little White Wonder Vol 2.
But is this a second volume? It is the great dupe of the century. A Rare Batch of Little White Wonder is, in fact, of little difference to the first volume. Identical. It is not as easy as this. Volume Two appears to be nothing more than a re-release of the first set of recordings. Old material passed through new hands; the Joker bootleg label has a lot of explaining to do. But it is the small flourishes which make all the difference. Gone is the garish and ugly design of the original print and in place is a standardised picture of Dylan performing live and the set of songs featured within. A re-release of the set with the same title trouble as the original. No sources, no fixes. Just a nicer-looking package for release. It is a bit of a difference maker, aesthetically speaking, and yet the notoriety of the set and the desire for it remains.
The more professional-looking route of modern bootlegs means they are lost in the waves of official releases. Dylan in particular has this with his works, from officially released outtakes to unofficially leaked pieces. Live recordings of an unofficial and official variety work together, rather than apart. Differentiating the two is crucial. Hardworking bootleggers of the here and now are now in charge of a product of their own, despite the work not being theirs. It creates a unique relationship from artist to recorder to listener. The pipeline is slim and never intended for wider audiences, and yet it ends up in their hands.
In the case of Little White Wonder and the volumes to follow, no difference musically can be heard between the first and second editions. It may offer a slight variation of sound quality, but those with better ears and more time on their hands will be the judge of this. A Rare Batch of Little White Wonder Vol 2, at the time of writing, can be purchased from Amazon for £24. A small price to pay for a slice of history. It is an endearing continuation of a spin-off to the huge Great White Wonder. Common bootlegs copied and pasted from vinyl to vinyl are now a lucrative opportunity. But the financial aspect of it has given way to passion, and rightly so. Dedicated and self-made bootleggers record and document these shows and recordings for the pleasure of doing so.
Bootlegs like A Rare Batch of Little White Wonder and the instalments to follow are vital. It is the link we have to the earliest days of bootlegging and why it was so important to document these performances. Dylan, who recently released The 1974 Live Recordings, was already keeping tabs on his gigs with soundboard recordings, so why not attendees too? There is a homebrew joy to these early recordings but also a sense of service. A desire to bring great music and odd recordings to those who had the interest but not the funds or ability needed to get to these gigs. It is all well and good wanting to hear Dylan play All Along the Watchtower in 2024, but doing so requires a flight to the United States and a back-and-forth with John Mellencamp. All of it is hinged on chance. But why play the luck game when someone in attendance will take to Twitter with it just minutes after the performance?
Has the spark left live performances because of bootlegging? Not at all. Where it may prove annoying to have someone brandish their phone up above their head for an hour and a half, it does serve a universal purpose in aiding those who cannot attend to experience mind-blowing or one-off moments. We should not take the route to this array of recordings for granted. Great White Wonder is the starting point and led to such a deluge in material being released, that it is hard to know where to start. Some shows offer common tropes of a Dylan performance like recordings of the Rough and Rowdy Ways tour. Yet in there is a crucial addition many would miss on any other show. The chance of rarities. This is why we plunder the songs and sounds collected by others, and why it must go on.
We will never know how New York State of Mind sounds in the hands of Dylan, not completely. But the action of trying to record it, the snippet we have, is far more a spectacle and worthy of discussion through the act of recording rather than seeing it written up on a setlist website. Bootlegging still maintains the same premise as it did decades ago. It is an act of service more people can utilise now the means of recording are in their hands. But does it defy the wishes of the artist? For all the joy we get at home listening to Dylan perform Big River or Stella Blue, the recent ban of phones and recording devices seems to go against a style of unofficial release Dylan has dealt with most of his career.
It spurned on The Bootleg Series, but the sentiment of why Dylan chose to officially release those tracks appears financial, and full of disdain for those wanting more from an already prolific artist. Speaking to Jonathan Lethem in 2006, Dylan said: “I still don’t like bootleg records. There was a period of time when people were just bootlegging anything on me… All my stuff was being bootlegged high and low, far and wide. They were never intended to be released, but everybody was buying them.” Therein lies the issue. Artists should have a right to create without fear of it being the finished result, out there before the right sound or lyric is found. Musicians are battling this now more than ever yet our hunger for new material, some hint at the future or the return of an old classic often oversteps the imaginary boundaries between artist and audience.
Bootlegs are an inevitability. Where the financial impact cannot be assessed in Dylan’s case, for if the tracks were never meant to be released, then there was no money to be made anyway, the effect on the creative process is where the damage lay. What tracks or performances were meant for release but never made it that far? The Supper Club recordings are a great example. Performances experienced by an audience and then prepared for release, but pulled for artistic differences flagged by Dylan. Do we have a right to hear it? Is there something to be said for the history of the performance, or do artists deserve their say on additional releases of their material? Bootlegs are beautiful, rare beasts and as important as Great White Wonder and the rare little instalments to follow, there is a damage they deal which means some artists may tread with caution.
