Bob Dylan – Black Cross Review

Live versions of Bob Dylan’s works are plentiful and, as such, are easy to access. Easier still when the likes of Black Cross are available. Compilations galore from an official YouTube channel hellbent on profiling every piece of sound Dylan ever made near a recording device. Questionable fittings for these playlists but interesting experiences nonetheless. Early works from Dylan are usually of rather questionable recording quality – crackling and stuff as they are – but this is all part of the charm. For this, it gives the acoustic guitar a well of deeper meaning, a Johnny Cash-like approach from Dylan’s vocal range, the heaviness heard on a rambling piece serving up a slice of what it’s like to live on the land. Eat what you raise, look after the fields, all of it feels for a traditional folk route which would make just one appearance in Dylan’s live performances.  

Ripped right from the Gaslight performance and a welcome opening to this collection of live performances, Black Cross feels like a Dylan original. It is not, in the end it is a marvellous poem adapted to the truth and beauties available with the addition of an acoustic guitar. Conviction here from Dylan is the key to Black Cross – a courageous understanding and honest interpretation of faith in the face of doubt. Roaring moments subdued by the immediate calm to follow, the need for belief rides through Black Cross even though these recordings are from different pockets in time. Early recordings, absolutely, but moments which show different shades of Dylan in his first performances. What ties these together is the sense of doubt running through each performance. It is more than hinted at by the end of opener Black Cross, a denouncement of the performance just played out as “not as good” as previous efforts. And yet there is much to love about it, about the scrutiny and honesty heard within it.  

It is a feeling which carries over to the rest of the songs within this muddled compilation. Ramblin’ Around leaves in the post-performance chatter, the self-assessment to come immediately after a performance which reveals the usual, wandering mind of Dylan. He turns his attention to photographs, to the audience or himself, separating himself from the immediate performance and as such, from the criticism which could level it. Most of these pieces are charming though. Nothing groundbreaking but a neat way to hear the early years at play. See That My Grave Is Kept Clean may be the first of many tracks in this collection to hint at familiarity. These are the repeated early tunes which the label now has a right to publish, and in this comes a flood of YouTube playlists. So what, then, is the point of Black Cross? 

The same as most playlists to feature Long John and Gospel Plow. To understand the early years of Dylan, the high points and the limitations of his one man and guitar show. He would add layer after layer to this and go on to break it all down just two decades later. But what becomes clear is just how critical these years are. Even if these recordings have no relation beyond being some compilation of materials left over, what they present is a chance to hear Dylan at a critical moment. Unimpressed with his sound despite how well-maintained it is, the bar is moved higher and higher by Dylan, rather than those listening in to these early country-like treats. Closer Baby, Let Me Follow You Down sounds almost reserved because of this implication. Harmonica thrills and acoustic, critical spills for Dylan here make for an interesting listen, another chance to understand the strain and frustration of trying to break through.