Tapes for and by folk enthusiasts are in slim supply. Contemporary artists are never going to produce the homebrew folk sounds of The McKenzie Tapes. There is no chance of it mounting a comeback and so we are left with a finite set of resources to pick through. Bob Dylan in his earliest years gave plenty of time to what became uncovered or seemingly underheard tapes, such is the case of The McKenzie Tapes. Recorded in the home of Eve and Mac McKenzie around the holidays and just a few months shy of Dylan releasing his debut album, these pieces serve as a familiar set of songs, traditional covers which highlight the homeliness of Dylan. He would apply this to his hits and the records to follow these tapes have, despite their lush studio work and instrumental polish, a sense of suddenness and improvisation. Woody Guthrie plays his part in The McKenzie Tapes, his wife Marjorie introducing the recorders and artist.
What follows is a series of interesting tracks from a time before fame. A brilliant collection of titbits, tuning and tremendous covers. All that remains of these tapes are fragments and barely audible vocal performances, but it is undeniably Dylan and a chance to hear him without his guard up. Those defences remain today and are all part of the touring style he provides on Rough and Rowdy Ways, but to hear him in the living room of some trusted acquaintances is to hear his true feel for these songs. (I Heard That) Lonesome Whistle is the first identifiable track where the tape does not suddenly cut out. Hearing Dylan add a few additional instrumental spots with the “wow wow” interjection is sweet, and the lightness of this piece feels like a fundamentally different Dylan than the one heard on studio works.
Finger-style guitar playing to the little bits of chatter from others in the room gives this a complete feeling. It does not feel like a gig but a showcase to interested parties of a talent which would soon blossom. Setting and scenario is a big difference maker for these tapes. Informal back-and-forth between hosts and their live-in musician, Dylan, gives this a breezy feel. The free-flowing state of great works is here, with Fixin’ to Die and House of the Rising Sun heard within. But the chatter around his playing, the suggestions to play this song or that track at a concert, can be heard in the background. These are suggestions of the everyday listener and they make for nice spots in-between the rough recordings which, beyond historic value, are not a necessary listen.
But they are intensely interesting. Cut through the near unlistenable static of You’re No Good and hear the depths of an early Dylan, a voice which was still finding the right tempo and shape. What these early moments serve is an artist finding their footing. His conviction and convincing vocal range, the instrumental brilliance heard in his greatest hits, can be found in patches here. Instrumental sections highlight the brilliance of improvisational momentum while the covers of Come All Ye Fair and Tender Ladies or originals like Ballad of Donald White bring out a side of Dylan not heard on his official releases. These tapes offer yet another side of the legendary performer, an affable and homely appeal to counter the often elusive and slippery public image. He is just like you or I, but has a hell of a guitar style to him, heard particularly well throughout these intimate tapes.
