Bob Dylan – Zimmerman Home Tape 1958 Review

Now the appeal and fascination of A Complete Unknown has all but died down, the time to return to even earlier works than James Mangold showed is at hand. Zimmerman Home Tape 1958 may be the earliest recordings of Bob Dylan. Unofficially released through a series of links online, a forum post here or there, you can assemble the tape yourself. Expect little in the way of listenable quality, but much to love from a historical perspective. One from the loft. Tapes of a family getting to grips with a passionate display. Music makes the heart beat faster and for many it is an intimate experience between loved ones, a display of affection to one song or another for family, friends and close influences. Exactly this occurs on the Zimmerman Home Tape 1958.  

Still, plenty to love, if you can get through the choked and gruff-sounding Hey Little Richard opener. Not the best quality to begin with, but what a racket. Fragments of songs rather than full-blown performances, and expectedly so. This is a teenager hammering a piano into his musical submission and finding a knack for it all the while. None of the Zimmerman Home Tape 1958 is all that listenable, but the early influences on Dylan, the throwaway mentions of names like Johnny Cash, people Dylan would go on to work with and inspire, create a warmth which comes from knowing Dylan would make good on it later. The man on this tape would become the most influential musician to ever walk the earth, that is no hyperbole. You would not think it if Zimmerman Home Tape 1958 was your first experience of his work, but who can honestly say their first experience with Dylan is one of the earliest homebrew recordings in his career? Nobody, that is who.  

Because to storm through his discography, bootleg, homebrew or otherwise, and to start here, is madness. A glance or two at the history books is all worth it if the opening track is anything to go by. Hey Little Richard is the first original song Dylan put to tape. Outside of a studio, that is. The rest are relatively keen covers of We Belong Together and Jenny, Jenny. Crackles and moments of magic, though only to the ears of those already well-versed in his work. Push backwards through time, picking up the occasional live recording or official bootleg release on your way back to this one. A thoroughly historic document. And yet even in these earliest performances, the at-home tape is a set of particulars Dylan would utilise in his studio releases. A confidence, an unwavering desire to sound like himself, hoarse and throaty pieces the whole way through.  

“You gotta have some kind of expression,” he can be heard saying. That much is true and remained true for much of his career. Individuality can be heard from word go in the lush career Dylan has. Those talking moments, like the radio interviews and performances to follow, are far more interesting than anything played. Zimmerman Home Tape 1958 has a phenomenal deep dive into what Dylan was listening to at the time, something not revisited until The Philosophy of Modern Song decades later. Conversations on how white artists were copying black artists, an interview with John Bucklen to follow from around 1992, adds that much-needed context. Zimmerman Home Tape 1958 is a crucial listen for utterly dedicated fans – and even in these early moments, the swagger and gift Dylan would showcase just a few years later, is right there to hear.