Eight years on from his last release of original material, Bob Dylan once more defied fan expectations. Those long-time listeners are set to expect the unexpected, or nothing at all. The latter often prevails. Occasionally there is a pang of excitement for the smallest detail. It overwhelms people to think about the return of, say, Under the Red Sky, to his setlist. When those truly exciting moments come to pass – a performance of Mr. Tambourine Man for the first time in fifteen years, for instance – it feels like a moment worth celebrating. That was the case for the sudden announcement of Rough and Rowdy Ways, an album Dylan has toured for four years. Rightly so. It is his strongest material this century and remains a twilight ride, an example of those last years on stage and in the studio being the pinnacle.
Rough and Rowdy Ways is a two-pronged jab of quality. Not only is it some of the very best material Dylan has written since his perceived comeback on Time Out of Mind, but the exploration of culture and its impact on Dylan affects every moment. This is not an adaptation of life to music, but death and the slow crawl into obscurity Dylan believes the human race has begun. Rhythm and blues may be the prevailing sound on Rough and Rowdy Ways, but it is the adaptation Dylan makes to the modern world which remains such a surprise. Pop culture references are littered throughout the album, most of them moments of contemplation for what passes as acceptable reference points in the modern day. From Holy Grail mentions and self-referential tracks of love and betrayal on False Prophet, to the litany of pop culture people on Murder Most Foul.
In both stage and studio, the form Dylan takes as an artist seems to be that of his idol, Little Richard. He said the Tutti Frutti songwriter “lit a match” under him, and now is the time for Dylan to offer those same sparks in the next generation. Rough and Rowdy Ways may live in the past somewhat, but it is in those reference points that Dylan explores the influence of his heroes and lived-in historical events. The next generation of creatives, when the time comes, must do the same, but must remember their place too. False Prophet suggests that best of all, a staggering song which, like many of the songs found on Rough and Rowdy Ways, hopes a listener will challenge the concept of song. Dylan has dedicated the last five years of his career to reattributing and rekindling the creative spark in many a creator.
His perception of genre, of song structure, and performance, is different to the subconscious creativity which dominated his 1960s output. There is no doubt about it. It comes to life on Rough and Rowdy Ways, where the rigidity and complexity of the music are clear. But this is in opposition to the freeform style, the ever-changing presence Dylan has as a live performer. He told the New York Times in 2020: “Improvisation leaves you open to good or bad performances and the idea is to stay consistent. You basically play the same thing time after time in the most perfect way you can.” It is not the song that changes, then, but the perception of perfection. This goes for any Dylan song he takes to the stage, be it the frequent appearance of When I Paint My Masterpiece or the rarely played Roll On John.
What Dylan hints at during that exceptional interview is a return to the subconscious form of writing. It is what keeps Rough and Rowdy Ways so electrifying. The depths of Dylan’s thought and meaning come from not thinking at all. See where the mind can take you and circle back, sometime in the future. He finds himself in a spot where the cultural innovations of his youth, and of modern times, are affecting him. You can hear it in the sly references to Frank Sinatra, Indiana Jones, and Anne Frank on I Contain Multitudes. But then those references are made in passing, the eye and mind of Dylan is, as he says himself on masterful track I’ve Made Up My Mind to Give Myself to You, a “shooting star / it looks at nothing, not here or there”.
Dylan is no fool to nostalgia, either. He may make references to past art, previous events, but they are current to him. Much like when we pick up a book or watch a movie from the past, it becomes a current event, so too is it the case for Dylan on Rough and Rowdy Ways. We can still learn from the past. Those wiser moments or ahead-of-the-times messages which can be collected and learned from, decades later. Sometimes centuries. The dilution of modern art, be it the streaming services which value time over learning or the insufferable increase in advertisements and sales tactics, is disturbing. There is a sense of separating yourself from those modern times on Rough and Rowdy Ways. The past was nowhere close to pure, though it is not painted as such here. Dylan incorporates the tragedies and shortcomings of the world around him throughout his most recent studio album.
It links back to that fear Dylan has of the death of the human race. “Every human being, no matter how strong or mighty, is frail when it comes to death,” he said. “I think about it in general terms, not in a personal way.” What of the death of those moments humanity holds close to their heart? They too, are dying, and Rough and Rowdy Ways feels like a call to a time when, despite the horrors of the world, there was truth and beauty to hold onto in the everyday. In the art, the conversations, which were present. Even these moments of life have been affected, be it through subscription services or severing ties with context at a time when it should be valued above anything.
For Dylan to muse subconsciously on this and come out the other end with a precise and deeply moving piece of work is stunning. That world of context and commitment is “obsolete.” It has been for years, long before Dylan put any of the words to Rough and Rowdy Ways on paper. Defiance is what defines this album now, and five years on from its release, it still feels like a towering achievement. A series of observations which set off with satisfaction and end with fear for what comes next. Dylan may not be around to see what occurs for the next generation, certainly not for the generation after, but here is a blueprint for what may go wrong. That is not to mention his longest song to date, the defiant Murder Most Foul. Had it been released at a time when media attention was limited, more honed, it would be the song to define his career.
Rough and Rowdy Ways may still. Should it be his final album studio album, it would join the weighty final pieces of Leonard Cohen’s You Want It Darker and Rowland S. Howard’s Pop Crimes. There is no tell within, as there was in some spots of Time Out of Mind when Dylan suffered a serious medical episode. But what there is throughout Rough and Rowdy Ways is a sense of cultural change. What Dylan was affected by is different to the contemporary scope of today. It is wider in its catch, which means dreck is aboard all too often. We would do well to hold onto Rough and Rowdy Ways as long as we can. This is up there with his most influential works. This is the modern-day electric turn, the moment he was born-again put to tape once more. Rough and Rowdy Ways is a startling piece of work, an observant masterpiece which has Dylan warn us of the times, changing as ever.
